Wish Upon a Cowboy (33 page)

Apparently what he was feeling showed on his face.

"Maybe," she said, "it's better that you didn't."

"No," he told her. "No more running. No more pretending. And no more lies."

"Jonas…"

"I love you. Hannah." How easy that was, he thought. How right.

"No," she said, shaking her head. "Don't say that now."

"I have to say it," he told her. "You have to know that no matter what else happens around here…" His mind slipped to the still looming problem of Wolcott. "I love you."

She stepped back from him, eyes wide and swimming in fresh tears. He hadn't expected his declaration to have this effect on her, but Lord knew, with Hannah he should have been prepared for anything.

"You can't love me," she said.

"You can't stop me," he assured her with a soft smile.

"Mackenzie…"

"Look," he said, "we'll argue all you want later." His gaze swept her up and down and he knew that he had to get her dry and warm. "First you get out of that dress and we'll warm you up. Then we'll fight."

A brief, sad smile touched one corner of her mouth and he wanted to kiss it away. He wanted to take this whole damn day and wipe it from her mind. But since he couldn't, he figured to give her a memory that would be so good, she'd never look back on this day without smiling.

As her fingers fumbled with the top buttons of her dress, he turned and retrieved the blankets tied up in his bedroll behind his saddle. Then, grabbing up the coffeepot he always carried, he took it to the mouth of the cave and let it fill with rainwater.

He set the pot near the edge of the fire to heat and turned to Hannah in time to see her wrap the rough wool blanket around her still-shivering body. Standing up, he went to her and rubbed his hands up and down her back and over her arms briskly. She sighed against him and when he knelt down, dragging her with him, she came willingly.

"I need you, Hannah," he whispered and the crackle of the fire nearly swallowed his words. "I need to be with you."

"Jonas," she said as she reached up and cupped his cheek, "I need that, too, but –"

"No buts," he interrupted, smoothing her hair back from her face. "Just for today," he went on, "there's no one else in this world but you and me."

"You and me," she repeated, her green eyes already hazing with the passion blossoming between them.

Laying her down on the rocky floor, he quickly got rid of his own clothing and joined her in the folds of the blanket. Her skin was like ice and he drew the cold from her with his own body, giving her his warmth, his desire, his love.

Her lips met his in a kiss filled with sweetness and the promise of a tomorrow that might never come. The bittersweet ache in her heart threatened to choke her. She held him to her and wished that things were different. Wished that she was the woman she'd always thought herself to be. She had his love and now, for his sake, she couldn't accept it.

But this one moment she would claim for herself. And in the years to come, she would remember every second of it. The feel of him. The taste of him. The wonder of his touch.

Hearts beating in time, hands caressing, they joined in an age-old dance, celebrating life and the gift of two souls finding each other.

He touched her gently, his fingertips smoothing across her skin with a feather-light touch that sent sparks of heat dazzling through them both. He looked into her eyes and stared straight into her soul—into the shining, pure heart of her, and knew that this woman was his past, his present, and his future.

And without her, he was nothing.

As their bodies joined, their souls met. In a hush of whispers and sighs, Jonas felt her love fill him and he gave her all that he was and all that he ever hoped to be.

Chapter Nineteen

Hours later, they dressed and readied to head back to the ranch. Hannah glanced at him as he carefully put out the fire and stacked the supplies he would leave behind.

He was so much a man of this place, she thought. His broad shoulders and work-hardened hands, the squint between his eyes that came from hours of staring into the sun. The Mackenzie he might be, but he didn't belong in Creekford as the head of the Guild any more than she did.

He belonged here. On his ranch in the life he'd built for himself. Hannah only wished she could share that life.

She shifted her gaze to the slash of late afternoon sun pouring through the cave's entrance. The rain had ended, just as her time with him had. It was time to admit it, out loud.

"I'm sorry I came here, Jonas," she said softly, though she wasn't really. She would treasure these few weeks with him for as long as she lived. He turned around to face her and she continued. "I'm sorry I disrupted your life."

"Don't be," he said and walked toward her. "I'm not. I'll admit. I wasn't real happy with you at first. But Hannah, if you hadn't come… if you hadn't brought me back to life…"

He reached out for her, but she stepped back, afraid that if he touched her again, she might forget what was right.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing," she said, then muttered, "Everything."

."What are you talking about?" Eyes narrowed, he watched her suspiciously.

"Us, Mackenzie."

"Hannah," he said and grabbed her before she could sidestep him. Pulling her close, he looked down into her eyes, forcing her to meet the cool blue gaze directed at her. "I don't know where you're going with this, but I sure as hell don't like the look in your eyes."

She looked up into his so familiar features and realized how deeply she would miss seeing his face every day. Hearing his voice. Feeling his touch.

"Hannah… I love you."

"Oh, God… " She shook her head and swallowed hard. Panic and regret and an aching loneliness opened up inside her. "Don't say that anymore. Not now."

"Now and every day for the rest of our lives," he muttered thickly, his gaze moving over her features like a dying man glimpsing paradise.

"Don't you see?" she whispered, her voice breaking on a choked-off sob. "It doesn't matter now. We don't matter now."

"Love's all that matters." His fingers dug deeper into her upper arms. "You taught me that."

"But I'm not a witch," she said and again felt the pain of those words stab at her. "I don't give a good goddamn if you're a witch or not. Hell, you ought to know that by now!"

He didn't care. She knew that. Witchcraft meant nothing to him, and it had meant so much to her. What a joke the gods had played on them. She had to try to make him see how the truths they'd discovered in the last few days had irrevocably destroyed what might have been.

"When you found out the truth about yourself," she said in a tumble of words, "you discovered your family. A heritage."

"That doesn't mean anything. It doesn't change who and what I am."

Furious that he could so glibly toss aside what had been ripped from her, she countered, "When my truth was revealed, I lost everything. My family. My name." She shoved at his chest, but it was like trying to push a boulder uphill. "I don't even know who I am!"

He dragged her even closer, until their bodies brushed, igniting small fires in her blood that she determinedly tried to stamp out.

"You're Hannah Lowell. Soon to be Hannah Mackenzie," he muttered darkly. "The woman I love."

"I'm no one," she whispered, shaking her head. "An orphan, plucked out of an asylum and given a name she had no right to."

"No right?" Astonishment colored his voice. "Your parents gave you that name when they chose you to love. To raise."

"I'm not a witch," she repeated, hearing the words sound over and over in her mind. "I'm not a real member of the Lowells. I have no powers. I have no claim to generations of magic. I'm… ordinary."

A harsh, short laugh shot from his throat. He shook his head and said, "If there's one thing you're not, Hannah, it's ordinary."

She wished that were true… but it wasn't.

"Let me go, Jonas," she said, staring up into his eyes.

"Why do you care so damn much about our pasts?" he asked. "I don't. I didn't ask to be a warlock and I damn sure don't want to be one."

"Unfortunately," she whispered, "we don't get a choice." If they did, she would still be the pitifully poor witch she'd always thought herself to be.

"Why are you being so damned stubborn about this?"

"You're the Mackenzie."

"I'm Jonas."

"The hereditary head of the Guild."

"A rancher in Wyoming."

"Now who's being stubborn?" she shouted.

"It's not stubborn to put up a fight against nonsense. You taught me that, too."

"Who you are isn't nonsense. Your duties, your responsibilities aren't nonsense."

"My responsibilities?" he asked. "What about yours?"

"I'm not the Mackenzie."

"No, you're not. But you might already be carrying the next Mackenzie."

Her eyes widened and one hand dropped to her flat abdomen.

"What about your responsibilities to that baby? To me?"

"We don't know that there is a baby," she said, though a part of her hoped to heaven that there was. At least then she would have something of him, of their love, with her always.

"That's not the point."

"Jonas…"

"No," he said, tightening his grip on her until she felt each of his fingers branding her skin right through the fabric of her dress. "What are you trying to say? That because you're not a witch, any child we might create together wouldn't be worthy of living?"

"Of course not," she snapped. "Every child is a blessing. A gift."

"Even orphans?" he asked quietly.

She sucked in a breath. My, he was a tricky warlock. Oh, she knew what he was doing. And it wasn't fair. She'd resigned herself to living without him. How could he throw hope at her when she knew it was useless?

"You must marry another witch," she told him, though the thought of another woman loving him, taking his name, bearing his children made her want to sink to her knees and weep. Hardening her heart and her voice, she continued, "A woman who can strengthen your powers and enrich your bloodline."

"I must marry the woman I love or nobody at all." He scowled at her. "And bloodlines should only be worried about in horses."

"Why are you making this so hard?" she demanded.

"This isn't hard, Hannah. Just like running away isn't hard. It's the staying and fighting for what you want that's hard."

"I don't want to leave you. I have to, I'm not a witch!"

"I don't care who you are," he roared and his voice echoed in the cave. "I love you." He threw his hands wide and let them fall again. "You. The woman who piled food in the middle of my table to teach me a lesson. The woman who wore feathers in her hair for who knows what reason. The woman who touches me and brings me to life again after too many years of darkness."

She choked back a sob.

"The woman who can bring me to my knees with a single glance out of her green eyes." He paused, then said, "There's only one important thing here. Do you love me or not?"

Oh, Lord, what she would have given a week ago to hear him say these things. Why was this happening? Why did she have to love him so desperately and give him up?

And why couldn't he see how difficult this was? How it was tearing at her heart?

She'd never be able to make him understand, and mentally she decided to quit trying. She knew what had to be done and she would do it. When the trouble with Wolcott was over, she'd leave Wyoming and allow Jonas to find his true destiny. And until then, Hannah would let him think he'd convinced her. It would make their last few days together so much easier to bear.

And what was one more lie between them now?

Looking at him, she saw the pain in his eyes that so echoed the ache in her heart. How she would miss him, she thought and silently prayed that he'd given her a child to cherish in the lonely years ahead of her.

"I do love you, Jonas," she said. "I always will."

He looked at her warily for another moment before asking. "So it's settled?"

"Settled," she lied.

He sighed and shook his head, grinning at her. "Have to admit," he said, "you had me worried there for a while."

She forced a smile she hoped looked genuine.

"Then we'll get married as soon as Wolcott's been dealt with."

She inhaled sharply and lied again. "Perfect," she said and let herself be drawn into the circle of his arms.

*  *  *

The next two days passed quickly.

Too quickly for Jonas. He sensed trouble in the air and it wasn't just because his nightly dream battles with the warlock were becoming darker, clearer. He felt Wolcott drawing closer. Danger became a tangible thing, choking him, strangling him nightly.

His eyes gritty from a lack of sleep, his temper constantly near the flash point, Jonas kept to himself as much as he could, sensing that he needed this time to prepare for the approaching battle.

And it was coming. Soon.

"You all right?"

He spun around to face Elias, silently cursing himself for not paying attention to his surroundings. Hell, if an old man could sneak up on him, the warlock should have no problem catching him off guard.

Then the battle would be lost before he could make a try for victory. And Hannah would be defenseless.

Taking off his hat, Jonas wiped his forehead with his sleeve, then resettled the hat again. "I'm fine," he snapped. "Or I would be if folks didn't pop up out of nowhere at me."

"Nowhere?" Elias swung down from his horse and picked up a strand of barbed wire lying on the ground. Holding it in place for Jonas to hammer it into the fence post, he said. "Hell, boy. I rode straight at ya across the meadow. You'd have to be blind not to notice me."

Blind or thinking. Jonas thought. And God knew, he had plenty for his mind to chew on. Not even counting Wolcott, there was Hannah.

Something was wrong. Oh, she'd been doing and saying all the right things. But he felt her distancing herself from him. Her sadness reached out to him, putting the lie to the smile she gave him whenever he looked at her.

He wished again that they'd been able to spend these last couple of nights together, in the same bed. Then at least he could have loved her and held her, made her see how much she meant to him. But with her aunt in the house, they'd had to behave respectably. And every day, despite her smiles and her kisses, he felt her pulling back from him. It was almost as though she were already gone.