Trail of Lust (11 page)

Her mouth was salty-sweet. Was she—

"Baby, why are you crying?” He caught one tear on his tongue.

Her voice wavered. “I'm happy, husband."

Her choice of words filled him with elation unlike any he'd ever experienced. When he'd married Bella, he'd known happiness, but being in the thick of the war, terror had been his top emotion.

He nipped Kathleen's lower lip. “I'm glad to hear it."

"I just wish..."

The wind whispered through the cracks in the barn, and a horse stamped repeatedly. Graham waited for Kathleen to go on, but several heartbeats stretched between them.

"Don't ever be afraid to tell me what's on your mind, darlin'.” He couldn't stop kissing her, trailing a path down her jaw to her throat.

She threaded her fingers into his hair. Her words rang with hesitation. “Are you sure it has to be this way? A secret?"

He sighed heavily and pulled back to stare into her face. A cloud moved in front of the moon, and he couldn't clearly make out her features. “For a little while, sweetheart. I don't want it to be this way."

"Are you afraid of introducing me to your family?"

He wasn't shocked she'd asked this. He'd suspected she'd question it sooner or later. Sure, he was a little worried about bringing her into a clan full of brothers and cousins who couldn't keep their mouths shut. When he did decide to bring her home, he'd have to threaten Clay with a broken rib or two if he didn't curb himself.

Graham shook his head, and his nose brushed hers. “That's not the reason, Kathleen. I'm very honored that you've agreed to be my wife."

"Then you really are afraid someone would try to...harm me?"

"I can't take the chance. It won't be for long. I promise.” Even as he said this, he wondered how long it
would
be. After all, no one knew about her. If Wabash happened upon the Allen residence, he could burn the place, shoot Silas, and rape Kathleen, even not knowing she and Graham were linked.

Maybe he needed to send a few rumors out there to draw the evil man in right where he wanted him. Each night, his brothers relayed more facts about Wabash's whereabouts. He was closing the gap, and it was time to do some hunting—Hollis style. A single word would rally his family around him, and the search would be on.

She shivered, and he wrapped her closer. “Will you promise me something else?” she whispered.

"What is it, darlin'?"

"That you'll take me over a hay bale in the future."

His placed his mouth over hers, letting his smile spread over hers. They shared a hiccup of laughter before starting all over again. Touching, stroking, caressing. He couldn't get enough of her, even though she was now firmly implanted in his heart.

Kathleen paced the confines of her father's bedroom. She rounded the bed and stubbed her bare toe on the metal frame. Pain shot up her foot and ankle. She doubled over, grasping her toe and tamping down the howl of agony that bubbled in her throat.

Her father was still sleeping. Still gray. Still breathing shallowly. Yesterday, when she'd gone into town for an elixir, the new doctor had told her to come fetch him if her father didn't improve by the next day.

She stared at Pa's sleeping face. A tuft of white hair stuck up at an odd angle, making him look as if, rather than aging, he'd gone backward to childhood. After she fed him the elixir, he'd stopped throwing up. But he wasn't well either.

She rubbed her hands together. Could she face another ride to town with Jenkins? Alone?

He hadn't exactly crossed any more boundaries with her, but he'd leered at her plenty. A sick knot formed in her belly each time she thought of his gaze on her. She'd wanted to yell that he had no right to take this liberty—she was a married woman!

But she wasn't allowed to divulge the information, and that stung.

Pressing her lips into a fine line, she continued to stare at her father. For him, she must face the trail with Jenkins. She'd insist they ride separately again, and maybe she could outstrip him, reaching town before he did. She was a confident rider. It was possible.

Within minutes, she'd run Jenkins to earth and was seated atop her mare. She'd taken a mere moment to slip on boots, a bonnet, and tidy her hair. At the last moment, she'd realized the string she wore around her throat had worked its way out of her bodice, and the ring was dangling between her breasts. She hastily stuffed it back in before Jenkins noticed.

"Ready, Miss Kathleen?"

She shuddered. What was it about his voice that edged under her skin? Avoiding his gaze, she said, “Yes.” Without waiting for him to take the lead, she set her boot heels into her horse's sides and took off across the field.

Her heart drummed in time to the hoofbeats. After several minutes of galloping, she started to relax. She couldn't shake the memories of last night's encounter with Graham. Each kiss, each release, was emblazoned on her soul. His care for her touched her heart. It had taken all of a day before she realized her emotions for him ran deeper than physical lust. The wisps of love had risen up that first night when he'd come to find her sitting under the moon.

The cool fingers of the wind tickled the stray hairs on her forehead. She drew her bonnet lower and leaned over her horse as they thundered toward town. Jenkins was close behind her, but she ignored him and turned her thoughts ahead. She'd have to ask the doctor to return with her, but that would cost money. She didn't have any way to pay him.

Perhaps he could use a good laying hen?

How would Graham's family deal with money? They were better settled than the Allens were. It was common knowledge the Hollises were the most prosperous family in this part of the state. They probably had cash on hand to pay the doctor if such a need arose.

Not for the first time, Kathleen's mind drifted to his family members. She knew he had two brothers and nine cousins—all males. Absently, her hand slipped to her belly. Would she bear him a son as well? It seemed these strong, rugged men could produce nothing else. She'd heard tell that his cousin Xander's family had been blessed with a new baby, but Kathleen didn't know the gender.

She didn't know anything about them, and that was the trouble. She wanted to become part of that big group, though meeting them for the first time was a daunting thought. What would happen if she just rode into the yard and announced who she was?

A vision of Graham's eyes flashed into her mind. Too well she imagined that dark, brooding look he got. No smile. Nothing to reveal anything but his displeasure. She didn't want to be on the receiving end of that look—ever.

The town was nestled in a basin between three mountain ranges. The paths leading to the cluster of buildings were well worn, and grass barely poked up through the earth. As she reached one of these trails, the sounds of hammering drifted to her.

New buildings were going up, and those that were erected had shiny coats of colorful paint. She slowed the horse to take in the sight. She rarely got off the farm, and reveled in being part of civilization.

Too bad she was with Jenkins.

He took the lead now, catching her reins and towing her horse behind. They rode onto the main street and were forced to stop as a hundred or so horses were driven down the road before them. As far as she could see, horses clogged the main thoroughfare.

She scoured the scene and fixed her gaze on the broad backs of the two men who drove them—one at the front, one at the rear. Something about the set of the shoulders of the man nearest her reminded her of Graham.

She longed for him to turn. Though instinct told her it couldn't be her husband, it might be one of the Hollis boys. Horses were their trade. It was likely they'd bring horses in to trade or sell. The town was booming to life, and more tents had been erected on the outskirts since she'd been here yesterday.

Jenkins cursed, and she studied him. What was his problem?

A few minutes later, the men corralled the horses at the opposite end of town, and she and Jenkins made their way toward the small white clapboard building settled between a hotel and a public bath.

Jenkins dismounted and held her horse so she could too. She was thankful he didn't try to give her a hand down. The last thing she wanted was for him to touch her, let alone have a Hollis man see him touching her.

The doctor was seated on a crate on the wooden walk before his place of business, smoking a pipe. He gained his feet when he saw Kathleen.

"Good day, Miss Allen. Elixir didn't work?"

"No, it did,” she said. It rankled to be addressed as “Miss Allen” when she was truly Mrs. Hollis. “He's stopped being violently ill. However, he's sleeping an awful lot. In fact, he hasn't awakened yet. And I don't like his color."

"Let me get my bag.” He disappeared into his office, leaving Kathleen to look around.

She peered down the street toward the place the horses had been rounded up. A shock ripped through her. She caught her breath as a big male strode up the boardwalk in her direction—a man who wore his hat in the same low fashion as Graham and walked in those same long strides.

He had to be a relative.

Someone stopped him with a call. “Hollis, whatcha asking for that sleek black horse?"

He drew to a stop and hitched a thumb in his belt. “For you? Three hundred."

The man asking let out a low whistle. “That's no deal!"

"Exactly! I've seen how you treat your horse stock, Middleton. I don't want a Hollis horse falling into your hands.” Without bothering to wait for a reply, he continued right toward Kathleen.

He looked up, and their gazes locked. Her heart flipped to see the familiar shape of the man's nose and mouth. His jaw was entirely too chiseled to be anything but a Hollis feature.

The corner of his mouth lifted, cutting a swath across his handsome face. He touched his brim. “Howdy, miss."

Ma'am
. Irritation rose up but was quickly stanched by his smile.

"Hello."

"You waiting on the doc?"

"Yes, he'll be right out.” She purposely chose not to say “with us,” having no wish to include Jenkins in any way.

"Sorry to hear something is ailing you. You look mighty fit to me.” He dragged his gaze over her.

A blush scorched her cheeks, but she managed to mutter a thank-you.

"May I ask your name?"

Jenkins took that moment to speak up. “This here is Miss Kathleen Allen, daughter of Silas Allen.” His hard tone indicated that the Hollis gentleman should back off. But Graham's relative simply stepped closer and took her hand.

"I'm Clay Hollis. I'm glad to make your acquaintance, Miss Allen. It's not often I set eyes on a lovely lady in these parts."

Jenkins narrowed his eyes, and for a bone-shattering moment, she thought he might take a swing at Clay Hollis.

Finally, the doctor emerged, saving the day, in her opinion. “I'm ready, miss. Lead the way."

"Good day, Mr. Hollis,” she said, giving him a nod. She grasped her horse's reins and swung into the saddle, taking care to arrange her skirts and thankful they were long enough to conceal her legs. Would Clay tell Graham about meeting her?

Minutes later, she was riding away from town, following Jenkins and with the doctor riding alongside her. Relief pulsed in her veins at the thought that her father was about to gain aid. But her heart throbbed despondently as she wondered if she'd ever be properly introduced to Clay Hollis—as Graham's wife.

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The wind shifted, and the horse's nostrils flared as it caught Graham's scent.
Dammit.
He needed to get close to this wild mustang, and it was giving him more trouble than the few dollars he'd probably earn from selling it.

Nolan had rounded it up on the back fifty acres, which was as wild as the prairies, since the Hollises had never cultivated it. How he'd managed to put a rope around the horse's neck, haul it home, and corral it, Graham would never know because he couldn't get near the touchy beast.

He made a loop of the rope and thwacked it against his thigh, staring directly into the horse's crazed black eyes. “Come on, you son of a bitch. I always win."

He started toward it, walking slowly but with purpose. If he got within fifteen feet, he could rope it and shut it inside the paddock, where it could be trained to become more civilized.

This horse was exactly the opposite of Kathleen. She'd been tame to start, and now she was growing more insistent and demanding when he loved her. In the early hours before dawn, she'd shoved him down on the hay bale and ridden him like the most competent of lovers.

His cock stiffened at the thought.

The horse snorted and danced away a few more steps.

If he managed to bring this horse to market, he could put the earnings toward the house he wanted to build Kathleen. Or he'd get enough to purchase some beautiful parlor furniture fit for a real lady.

"You gonna waltz with that horse or tell it who's boss?” Clay's irritating drawl chopped off the spires Graham was creating in his mind.

He shot Clay a glare as he edged closer to the horse. A couple more steps and he could throw the rope. “Shut your goddamned mouth, Clay. You'll spook it."

"Oooh, touchy, I see. Not getting enough sleep?"

The lilting way he said this made Graham certain that Clay alluded to his midnight outings.

Graham's muscles coiled, and he flipped the rope a little, ready to make the toss. The black bobbed its head and swished its tail warily. Probably didn't help that Clay was leaning against the fence, gossiping like an old woman.

"You going to own up to the fact you've been leaving every night this week?"

"What's it matter? I'm not twelve years old."

"I don't know where you've been going, but I suspect a woman is the reason for your clandestine jaunts across the fields."

He snapped his gaze to his brother, ready to use the rope for something other than snagging a wild horse. Why did all the Hollis men have to be such damn good trackers? Clay could follow a raccoon to its den in the middle of a spring downpour. He could easily follow Graham across the fields to the Allen house if he wanted. What reason would he have to follow, though, other than to be a pain in Graham's ass?