Sam’s Creed (19 page)

The reference to heaven surprised her. “Why?”

He touched her cheek with the tips of his fingers in a gesture reminiscent of a kiss. “Because you’re an amazing woman.”

She frowned. “You said I was young.”

He smiled. “Young and amazing.”

More conflicting signals, pulling her close where before he would have pushed her away, taking control where before he would have given it to her. She didn’t like it. “I do not understand you anymore.”

“Figuring out why that is will give you something to do until I get back.”

She grabbed his hand, squeezing hard, searching his expression for the truth. “You are coming back?”

This time when he kissed her it was with all the softness he hid so deeply inside him. “Never doubt it.”

“Why?”

He looked around at the ranch below. “I’m beginning to wonder.”

She dug her nails into his hand. “Look at me, Sam, not at what I own. I am more than that.”

His brows snapped down in a frown. “You don’t have to tell me that.”

But she did, because unlike others who might want her because of her wealth, Sam was more likely to not want her because of it, to keep her safely ensconced in it. Away from the harm he thought he brought her. “I was born to this, but I do not need it.”

“It’s a hell of a lot to give up.”

She should not push him now. It was wrong, but he was leaving to fight a battle she worried he could not win. For her. “Ask me for what we both want, Sam.”

His mouth set in that stubborn way he had. “No. I’m not leaving you with regrets if something goes wrong.”

“So instead you would leave me with the emptiness of the unfulfilled wish?”

Yes, Sam thought, he was, because wishes brought into the day hurt more than those that were conceived but never born. His mother’s words, spoken through fever-cracked lips in a bruised and broken face whipped out of the past, flaying him anew with regret. After all this time.

It’ll be all right, Sam. I’ll be better in a bit and then we’ll go back East to your father’s brothers. They’ll take care of us. You’ll play with your cousins, have all the candy you want, get a good education. Just wait a few days.

Except she’d never gotten better. There hadn’t been any candy. He and the others had all but starved to death waiting for his father’s brothers to come. He’d hated his mother for years for giving him that hope. Hated himself for being stupid enough to believe in it to the point he’d almost killed the other members of Hell’s Eight by insisting everything she’d said would come to pass. That they just had to wait.

It wasn’t until he was a man full grown that he found out the telegram his mother had had him send had never arrived. By then it’d no longer mattered. He’d learned to survive on his own, without wishing. Without holding on to false hope. And without giving out false hope to anyone else.

He smoothed his thumb over her mouth. “Yes.”

Her lips parted, wrapped around his work-roughened flesh in a soft nibble before sucking lightly. His cock hardened, his body hungered. His heart hungered harder.

She was everything he’d ever wanted. Everything he shouldn’t take but he was going to. If he came back, and if she still wanted him after she had time to reacquaint herself with everything she would be giving up, because as beautiful as the Montoya ranch was, he wouldn’t be staying. He was Hell’s Eight and always would be. He slid his thumb free. “Hold that thought until I get back.”

“It is not I who should hold that thought.”

The smile she could always conjure from him slid across his lips. She never gave up. That was for sure. “All the way to the grave.” With a press of his knees he urged Breeze away. “Now, why don’t we give those guards with the bead on us a break and head on down so you can introduce me to your mother?”

The introduction didn’t go as expected. Sam expected anger, coolness, and maybe a bit of leftover hostility from Bella’s mother. After all, he was Texan, of no particular family connections, and a Protestant. Not to mention he looked every bit as disreputable at the moment as the outlaws he hunted. Instead, Mrs. Montoya took one look at him standing behind Isabella as she hugged her daughter and burst into tears. Not the violent emotional kind he’d seen Tia and Desi indulge in a time or two, but big silent ones that poured down her still smooth cheeks in a wrenching display of grief that went no further than him. She blinked rapidly as Bella tried to step back, hugging her again, clearly not wanting her daughter to see her distress. If he’d had a handkerchief, Sam would have handed it to her. He didn’t have a handkerchief.

“Bella, your manners are slipping.”

Predictably, Bella spun around and frowned at him. “This is not the time for your provoking, Sam.”

He grabbed her hand and tugged her to his side, giving her mother a bit more time to compose herself. “When would be better?”

“When it is not the time for you to be making a good impression!”

“Bella!” Mrs. Montoya snapped. “This is not the way a proper young woman addresses a man.”

Bella flushed and glared at him as if the reprimand was his fault.

“I am sorry,
Mamá.
”

“It is not me you should be apologizing to.”

It was very clear from where Bella got her tendency to give orders.

“No apologies are necessary, Señora Montoya. Bella and I have an understanding. I provoke her, and she gets to call me on it.”

The woman did not look appeased. “She was raised better.”

“I’ll make a note of it.”

Bella shot him a look so perking with frustration, he got the impression if her mother hadn’t been there, she would have kicked him in the shins. “Sam MacGregor, this is
mí madre.
Bettina Montoya de Aguero.”

He nodded. “A pleasure to meet you, ma’am.”

She inclined her head, the break in her composure as if it had never been. “It is a pleasure to meet you also.” She motioned to Bella. “Especially as you bring back to me my daughter safely.”

“That also was a pleasure.”

Bella flushed a brilliant red. Mrs. Montoya’s brows snapped down in a frown as Bella gasped, “Sam!”

“She’s got a great sense of humor,” he clarified, albeit a little late. “Can make a man laugh at the darkest times.”

The woman’s gaze sharpened in a look he’d seen many a time before. One that usually sent him running.

“She has always had this gift.”

“She,”
Bella said, “is right here.”

Mrs. Montoya never took her eyes off him. “Bella, please go to the kitchen and prepare some café for our guest.”

Bella hesitated, clearly not trusting him alone with her mother. No doubt afraid of what he was going to say if she wasn’t there to limit him. “Can not Leila handle this?”

“Leila is no longer with us.”

“What happened?”

“I sent her away.” With a wave of her hand she dismissed Bella. “Now, please hurry before your ranger thinks we do not know how to treat a guest.”

She didn’t go without a fight. “Sam?”

“Yes.”

She touched her finger to the back of his hands. “Please remember this is
mí madre.
”

“There’s no doubt about that, duchess. You look very much alike.”

Bella’s mother had the same fine skin, same thick dark hair, same aristocratic cheekbones, same autocratic manner, and same, he suspected, inner vulnerability.

“Sam.”

He caught her hand in his. It was a blatant breach of etiquette, but what did he care about rules when there was that fear in Bella’s eyes? Rubbing his thumb across the fine bones of her hand, he held her gaze and whispered, “Relax, Bella. I do know how to behave when the occasion calls for it.”

“I am sorry.” Her lower lip slipped between her teeth. “It is just…”

“Your mother,” he finished for her.

“Sí.”

“Go get the coffee, Bella,” Mrs. Montoya ordered.

The tone of the order brooked no denial. With one last anxious glance, Bella turned and headed to the archway, leaving him alone with her mother.

With another elegant wave of her hand, Mrs. Montoya motioned him to the comfortable parlor. The wine-colored curtains were drawn against the noon sun. He caught the woman’s anxious glance toward the covered windows. Or maybe, he considered, drawn against something else.

“You indulge her,” she said, turning back to him.

He took a seat where she indicated in the wing-back chair across from the horsehair sofa. “She’s easy to indulge.”

The response prompted another frown. “She is head-strong and without a firm hand will get herself in trouble.”

He smiled. “Like running away rather than marrying up to a ba—monster like Tejala?”

“You also defend her.”

“Again, she’s easy to defend.”

“Are you involved inappropriately with my daughter, Mr. MacGregor?”

“I’d say we’ve done everything right.”

“I have heard of your reputation.”

He didn’t think she was talking about his reputation with guns.

“You are said to have many women in many towns.”

“A lot of things are said.”

“That is not an answer.”

He sat back. The chair was comfortable. Built for a man of about his size. It was a pleasant change. “Probably because you haven’t asked me any questions.”

Her eyes narrowed and then she smiled. Just a little, and it was tight around the edges, but it was a smile. “Like my husband, you are very direct.”

“I find it saves time.”

“So did he.”

She looked around the room, memories in her sigh. “He loved it here. Loved what he’d created.”

“Bella says you weren’t so enthusiastic.”

“I was not the best mother then.”

“There’s still a whole lot of future ahead of you.”

“Why are you being so kind?”

He shrugged. “Bella loves you. Since I can’t see Bella being happy if I stand between you and her, I’m inclined to be generous.”

“But?”

He met her gaze squarely. “You betray her to Tejala, and I’ll kill you myself.”

She sat back, eyes widening. “Not so kind, after all.”

“No,” he agreed, placing his hat on his knee. “Not so kind.”

“But you love my daughter.”

It was a statement of fact.

“That I won’t discuss with you.”

“Because you don’t feel it?”

“Because Bella deserves to have it discussed with her first.”

“Ah.” She smoothed a wrinkle from the sofa, attacking it again when it popped back up. “My daughter is in a lot of trouble.”

“I’m going to fix that.”

“By killing Tejala?”

“Yes.”

Footsteps sounded on the tile. Bella returning. Mrs. Montoya cast another anxious glance at the doorway. “The trouble will not go away with Tejala’s death,” she said in a low urgent voice. “There will be other men wanting what she owns.”

“I know.”

“It will take a strong man to hold this ranch for her children, but she would make it worth his while.”

Bella was almost upon them. “Are you offering me Bella in exchange for her safety?”

“Yes.”

“Son of a bitch!”

Mrs. Montoya sat back, her face bleaching white.

Bella came in the room, took one look at the scene and swore with a word she must have picked up from him. The coffee cups rattled on the tray.

Sam got up and took it from her before she dropped it. She glared around him at her mother. “You offered me to him, didn’t you? Like I was some cow in the pasture to be bargained away for a profit.”

“Bella…” Sam cautioned.

She shoved past him, advancing on her mother who didn’t say a word, didn’t stand up.

“No. She offers you the ranch, like I matter for nothing.” Her voice rose with the pain of every syllable, imitating her mother’s more precise pronunciation. “You can have this wonderful ranch if you will but take my worthless daughter off my hands.”

“Bella!” her mother gasped.

“That’s enough.” Sam put the tray on the table.

She spun around, her hands slamming down on her hips. “No, it is not. First cousin Aguerro, then Tejala, now you and tomorrow maybe someone else.” She threw up her hands. “When does what I want matter?”

She meant more than with just her mother. Sam grabbed her arm and tugged her around. He held her gaze. “I said, enough.”

She was furious but beyond that, hurt. Ignoring her mother and all the rules of propriety, he pulled her to him.

She struggled, taking a halfhearted swing at him. “Let me go.”

The blow landed lightly against his ribs. Holding her close he smoothed his hand over her hair, feeling her tremble, feeling her pain, hating that anything but a smile touched her. “Enough, Bella.”

Her hands fisted against his chest. She thumped him on the shoulder, rocking her forehead on the plateau of his breastbone. “I am more than this, Sam.”

“I know.”

She waved her hand indicating the room and all its elegant furnishings without lifting her head. “I wanted
you
to see me as more than this.”

“Bella, I fell in love with you when I thought you didn’t have a pot to pee in.”

She went still against him, still not looking. “Say it again.” Before he could open his mouth she added, “Just the first part.”

He smiled. It hadn’t been the most romantic declaration. “Look at me first.”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because if I do I’ll wake up and it will be a dream and I could not bear it.”

“Your dreams are so poor this is the scenario in which you imagine a man will propose?”

Her head popped up then. “Propose? I did not hear a proposal.”

“And you’re not going to either until I get back.”

She propped her chin on his chest, as always a combination of flirtation, humor and that incredible feminine strength. “But words of love, you will tell me those.”

It wasn’t a question, which just made him smile. He traced the outline of her mouth with his index finger. “Yeah. I’ll tell you those.”

In front of her mother, before he went off and maybe got himself killed, he would give her words of love. Give her hope. Oh yeah, he was a prize.

Something of his thoughts must have shown in his expression because she frowned. “And no regrets, Sam. I do not want them with regrets.”