Twenty

Luke pushed away from the table, wondering how a man had room for all the food they’d piled onto his plate. Not that they had to work overly hard. No such thing as a decent meal and a certain pretty lady when a man lay low. Still, the chief excuse for the visit was to get the latest news, he told himself.

Why the hell had Roberts shown up? Just riding through? Should be Major Jones.

Luke desperately needed a plan to get out of this mess. No doubt his rope had knots in it to think he stood a hope and a prayer.

He could get caught in his own noose and end what he’d started…before he could free Jack Day.

He took a slow turn about the table. Deep sadness lay behind each smile, almost as if they mourned a loved one’s passing. He reckoned they had ample reason for sadness. Not too many things ran in their favor these days.

When he saw the ribbon in Hope’s hair and the comb in Mother Day’s, his chest swelled. They evidently liked the small gifts.

The toothbrush he gave Glory crossed his mind.

Remembering that special night sent warmth flooding into his belly. An uncomfortable hunger rose that no amount of food could satisfy. No one had to twist his arm to call on the Days.

His gaze lingered on the woman across the table. Her face swam before him when he drifted to sleep at night and woke each day. He fancied her around every turn. Glory flowed in his veins as real as his blood. Watching the waning light brush her hair with some sort of reverence created a hollow crater inside.

She seemed to be in one of her quiet moods. A pure sin to Moses she couldn’t see him, for he’d surely wink if for nothing more than to put some color in her cheeks.

He clenched his jaw until the pain matched that of his heart.

Of all the things in this world, he reckoned nothing would give him greater joy than to set to rights those beautiful stonewashed eyes.

Mama Day dabbed at the corners of her mouth. “Young man, what made you return? With the folks of Santa Anna and that nasty captain ready to shoot you on sight, I believe I’d have to say you’re being awfully foolhardy.”

“I reckon so, ma’am.” He’d brave a hail of gunfire and walk over coals with his bare feet just to kiss his Glory one more time. But he wouldn’t have good sense to tell Mrs. Day that. “I came back to get something I left in your barn.”

Glory pushed the food around on her plate. “Must be all-fired important.”

It was the first time Glory had spoken during the meal and she did it with a measure of stiffness he understood. Misery had a way of snuffing out tender feelings.

“It is.” The words came out hoarse, not the lifeless tone he’d aimed for.

The way her head jerked around you’d have thought he slapped her. Fire and damnation! Good going, McClain.

“Enough to risk your life?”

A painful lurch made his reply no louder than a sigh through a field of cotton. “Yes.”

Whatever she thought, her face kept the secret. She’d not given one measly sign that his risking life and limb pleased her. He even welcomed the hair-trigger temper that had come freely in times past. Anything to hint she hadn’t died inside.

Patience interrupted his thoughts. “I’ll wallop anyone who says you murdered ol’ lady Penelope. Or stab ’em and feed ’em to the wild pigs. They’d best keep their traps shut.”

He propped his elbows on the table. “I do declare. I might oughta take you with me to do my defendin’.” He touched the bruises on the young face. “That’s quite a shiner. Scratches too. Tangle with a bear or something?”

Patience bent quickly to stroke Miss Minnie. “I fell.”

And his name was Dakota Kid.

Plain to see she didn’t want to discuss it. He guessed some of the little darlin’s in town had added the handiwork.

“My stars, I can’t recall when I’ve eaten so much,” Mama Day said. “The batch of fish was delectable.”

He reckoned that must mean good in Ruth-Day English.

“How did you catch so many, Mr. Luke?”

“Well, Punkin, I smeared a little honey on the hook, dropped it in the water, and whistled for ’em. They pert near jumped onto the bank of their own free will.”

He leaned forward and listened.

The sound of hoofbeats made his belly knot. He covered the distance to the window in three steps. One horse and rider.

“Expecting company?”

“It could be my Jack.” Mama Day joined him. “Oh, I do hope so.”

Hope crowded between. “It’s Alex O’Brien.”

“Who?” Luke asked.

“Her beau.” Patience didn’t want to miss out, scooting under his arm. “And he’s wearing courtin’ clothes.”

“Mr. McClain, you can hide in the barn. We’ll send word when he leaves.” Hope swung around. “Quickly. Oh dear, someone take up his plate.”

“I’ll keep him company.”

Glory’s unexpected volunteering shocked him. Luke tried to stifle the promise of his good fortune.

He’d hoped merely to steal a few minutes alone.

More than that would bring unbearable pleasure.

* * *

“You don’t have any snakes in here, I hope.”

Glory suppressed an urge to laugh, recalling the night she went after Luke when he broke his bargain with her. The mere idea of a poor little snake terrifying a tough man of his caliber still seemed a bit odd.

“We only keep the friendly type. Miss Minnie and family run off the bad ones.”

“It’s nice to hear you joke. Most times you’re far too serious. Tonight, you seemed a million miles away.” The heels of his boots scuffed against the barn floor.

The reason burdened her soul. She’d let her papa down. That fact made her own dilemma pretty trivial. Not a scrap of hope remained. Zero.

“Another letter from prison came today.” The tremor inside broke through her armor. “I’m worried about Mama.”

“Your father didn’t…?”

“We haven’t received notification yet but it’s just a matter of time.”

“Miracles do happen, you know. Maybe—”

“Stop! Quit trying to coddle me. My father is past saving.” And so was she. Hard reality, but true.

Sniping wouldn’t cure anything. He hadn’t caused their misfortunes. She wished she could take it back. Silence weighed heavy before he let out a chuckle.

“Did I say something funny?”

“Didn’t realize you can still shoot with both barrels and hit what you’re aiming for. Happy to see you’re not out of ammunition. Here I thought you’d all but climbed into the grave and pulled up the bedsheet.”

“Hell’s bells! I’m not dead yet!”

“I can see that. Yes sirree.” He whistled in admiration.

The tingles she had had before seemed mild in comparison to the hum vibrating inside how. His drawl reminded her of a lazy cat, stretching from a nap. It stirred every emotion she’d ever known twenty times over.

Luke brushed her shoulder. “In case Romeo chances to glance out, we don’t dare light the lantern.”

She pasted on a wry smile. “No need to worry about darkness on my account.”

“Damn!” He whacked something, the wall most likely, with his fist. “Let me bend over so you can kick the seat of my pants. But shoot, you can’t see my rear end either.”

“Please, I’ll get used to it.”

“Yeah, but will I?” he asked softly.

The hopeless undercurrent in his tone tugged at her heartstrings. Whether he sought reassurance or not, she felt drawn to reach out. The hard muscle of his arm gave her a jolt. “I know of worse things.”

Like picturing his silly wink and grin when memory faded.

Like holding on to the feel of his embrace, his lips.

And like having to keep on breathing once he’d gone. Yes, many things numbered the list, each one pain-ridden.

“We might as well make ourselves comfortable while we wait.” Luke’s fingers brushed her face. “This courting business could last for hours.”

A man with a magic carpet would know. His arm slid around her waist, igniting a heat that dampened her palms. She knew he led her down the row of stalls. Dankness, chickens clucking on their roosts, and the way the barn became cooler the deeper inside she went told her.

“What’s the situation with your sister?”

“I take it you mean Hope.” She moved cautiously, not yet familiar with the uneven slope of the floor. “I look for her and O’Brien to tie the knot before long.”

Panic lodged in her throat.

One more person to walk out of her life.

They all would…leaving her alone with memories of useless dreams.

Caesar and Soldier snorted. Bessie kicked up a fuss when they moved past. Thirty steps from the door. She perceived them near the same place she’d located Patience earlier. The hay rustled when they sat down. His gaze, the rich shade of coffee beans if memory served, burned through the midnight of her soul.

His arm slid around her, the heat of his body arousing a strange hunger. Although he had a callus on his thumb, his touch was as soft as satin on her cheek.

Though he hadn’t denied killing Penelope Tucker in so many words, his nearness didn’t threaten her.

He wouldn’t take her life—merely her heart.

Not much separated the two. Either way she’d lose. She smoothed the rough seam of her britches leg, then bunched it up before she straightened it again.

“Perhaps you’d better get whatever it was you left in the loft…that important item you had to return for,” she suggested.

“Later.”

Glory’s pulse quickened when he tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.

“I merely want to look at you.” He cleared his throat. “‘She walks in beauty, like the night. / Of cloudless climes and starry skies.’”

“You know Lord Byron!”

She’d never have imagined. Luke was like a many-faceted diamond. Depended on the way the light shone and which side it turned as to what you saw.

Luke chuckled and drew her down onto the fresh hay. “I blame it on my mother’s insistence. Truth to tell, those are about the only lines of Lord Byron I remember.”

“But still…not many Texans can quote a single word.”

“I didn’t think poetry or reading mattered until I met you. Now my mind dwells on it.” He tickled her neck with a piece of straw. “Do you know how pretty you are right now?”

His silky voice guaranteed mystery and excitement. She skated on a frozen pond that disguised thin spots. Danger of falling through any moment terrified her.

“You’re wrong, McClain. Hope is the comely one.”

“Both your sisters are fine-looking ladies. But you’re the real beauty. You have a glow that shines from the inside out. When you walk by, heads turn. People stare.” His voice cracked. “You put thoughts in a man’s head of everything he can’t have and make him believe his notions aren’t nearly so far-fetched. Darlin’, you take my breath and steal my every thought.”

“Thank you, but you don’t have to say those things.”

What effect did he think he had on her? Words held no meaning unless Luke spoke them. She moved through the days in constant disarray, conscious only of his presence…long after he was no longer there.

“Oh, but I do. They come from my heart.”

He held a magnetism over her she couldn’t shake. As she sat next to him now, nothing mattered, not even the arrogant way he tried to fix their problems.

She didn’t give a hoot if he had turned scoundrel.

Or stage robber.

Or outlaw.

Or snake-oil salesman.

Long as he never left. A light caress of her wrist moved up her arm. Glory shivered…fearing she might die from want. Coaxed into the circle of his arms, she snuggled into that safe place where nightmares and dark beasts couldn’t reach her.

For the moment, her world had no troubles.

No danger—only light. Where everything was perfect.

She felt the most fortunate of women.

His lips brushed the top of her head. “You give so much. I only wish…”

“Shh, no regrets.” She leaned back. With tender care, she touched the face she could no longer see.

She traced his eyes that could twinkle with laughter, glow with excitement, or heat her with a mere glance. The nose that couldn’t seem to stay out of her affairs. The high cheekbones and strong jaw that defined the man she knew.

Such a one could not willingly take another’s life.

Straying to his sensuous mouth, she outlined it with the barest of fingertips.

“You never told me how you got this scar.”

“You never asked.” He nipped at her dawdling fingers.

“I am now.”

“Mountain lion. I reckon I was ten at the time. Duel had just turned fourteen. We went hunting and got lost. From nowhere, this big cat jumped us. We shot, barely wounding it. The animal followed us all day, waiting for an opportunity. When night fell, it attacked. Nearly ripped Duel’s damn arm from the socket. I tried to fight it off and that’s when it ripped a big gash in my throat and caught my mouth.”

“Dear Mother Mary! How did you get free?”

“Duel killed it. I’ll never forget it though. That feeling of being stalked. Of not knowing when it would finish the job.”

A faint tremor rippled through him, and she knew he walked the same path now, fighting for his life once more.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. It taught me a valuable lesson.”

Luke shifted away, but she still felt his nearness.

“Come lie down and tell me what deep, dark secrets you have in that head of yours,” Luke murmured against her temple.

Glory patted the straw until she found him, then lay back. “I hate to disappoint you. Nothing as bloodcurdling as your story.”

“That bad, huh? Well, everyone can’t be so lucky.” He lifted a length of her hair, curling it around a finger. “Anything ever make you crawl under the covers and hide? Tell me something I don’t know about Glory Marie Day.”

That she’d never met a stranger like him?

That he gave her a reason to keep going?

Or that she cared for him with her heart and soul?

She took a shaky breath. “I used to have a dog named Max. We had a bond, he and I. Max took sick one day. He lay there and suffered over a week. I wanted Papa to make him well. Didn’t understand why he couldn’t, ’cause my papa could fix anything. Max died in spite of all my tender care. He left me. Then Papa went away. Mama has gone, too, though in a different way. Hope will get married. After her, Squirt will go off to find her big adventure.”

And she’d be by herself. Without the man called McClain.

“You hide your scars on the inside. Don’t know which is worse, darlin’. My experience has shown one day it’s sunshine and roses, the next blustery and a passel of thorns.”

Such a heavy sigh from a scoundrel who wore rakish grins the same way he toted his forty-five—never far from either. This more serious side took her off guard. She knew how to steel herself against a sweet-talking cowboy. Or almost anyway.

“I wouldn’t have taken you for a philosopher.”

“Do you know how long a second is when you’re waiting for something important, and you can’t swallow because it’ll choke you? Then when you want the moment to last for an eternity, it passes in the blink of an eye.” Luke’s voice became hoarse. “This second is one of those.”

The hay rustled again, and she sensed he rested on an elbow, watching her. She lay unmoving, waiting with bated breath. She’d take whatever he could spare and consider it a blessing. Beggars couldn’t be choosers. Perhaps she’d used up her allotment of miracles.

“Lady, you’re going to make me do something I reckon I shouldn’t. But I never laid claim to good sense.”

His touch threw her in disarray for it brought a yearning so powerful it could destroy. Her skin burned with a fever.

Feathery kisses had her head swimming. Luke nuzzled her earlobes, worked down her jaw, then her neck. The palm he laid over her breast trembled. His touch awakened exquisite, sweet torment. Tears formed and inched down her cheeks. He did things to her she hadn’t earned the right for. That he would give this precious gift to a blind, destitute girl brought a bittersweet ache.

As he fumbled with the buttons of her shirt, she knew she’d stepped on that magic carpet again. Awareness brought paralyzing fear and a sense of crossing an invisible line. Once she let herself need, would she ever stop? And how many regrets would she have if she chose to live that way?

“Say the word and I’ll quit. But this is all I’ve thought of since you hauled my shot-up carcass home that day.”

“I want you, Luke.” There was no going back.

Anywhere not touching him was too far. She clutched a handful of shirt and pulled him closer. His mouth found hers in the same instant the air fondled her, sliding across her bared nipples. They rose to aching, rigid peaks. Shivers ran the length of her.

Tongues could bring the most amazing pleasure, she learned. Every movement of his head left a moist, sinful trail behind.

A mass of tingles waltzed up her spine. Her breath became ragged as she slid her fingers into his hair. Luke took a nipple further into his mouth, creating a swarm of flutters through her. Her heart raced with the pleasure of his touch.

This cowboy moved confident and sure, though not in an arrogant way. A man possessing extraordinary magic, he knew which flick or brush would elicit the right response. He went lower, sliding down her flat belly. And yet she craved more.

Glory had never undressed a man before and scarcely knew where to begin. She’d never dared think of such things. Haste turned her fingers to all thumbs. Yet she desired to lie naked with Luke on a bed of hay and couldn’t bear another second of torture.

A few seconds, a button or two more.

She gasped.

The hardness of his chest met with her tender skin. The delicious friction added another layer to the moment they’d carved from dead dreams and disappointment.

His heated, swollen need throbbed against her bare thigh. Luke’s touch moved lightly across her stomach, down her legs, then into her wet opening. There he paused, letting her absorb the strange caress.

When he slipped a finger inside the tender folds, sensation pulsed over her in thick waves. She embraced each one and pressed herself tightly against his hand, praying the night would never end.

Dear Mother Mary!

Damp tendrils clung to her face. Something consumed her that she had no name for. She only knew she wanted more. She had to quench the flames that threatened to scorch her soul or else they’d not stop there, but engulf the whole of her.

“Relax and enjoy it,” Luke whispered against her ear as he climbed on top of her and filled her with his hardness, stretching the walls of her body.

A burst of unimaginable pleasure rippled through her and she gasped with the unexpected joy the feelings brought.

Glory thrust her arms around his neck and arched to meet him. Salty tears and love married on her tongue in one crowning moment. A cry rent the air in the mating of her flesh with his.

She rose on the waves in a frenzy of heavenly heat and rapture. Higher and higher until the sensations gave way in an explosion of pure white light.

She found a way to put out the fire.

Luke rolled to the side where they lay quivering, gasping for air, perspiration creating a sheen on their bodies.

After several minutes passed, Luke raised to kiss her with gentle reverence. “Have mercy, lady! I ain’t ever been to Glory Land, but I have now.”

And in what a fashion, he might add.

Luke drew her against him and they lay, their passions sated, drifting in a sea of bliss.

Suddenly he raised his head, making sure he hadn’t mistaken the noise. “Listen.”

Unmistakable pitter-patter on the roof told him he hadn’t taken leave of his senses. The rumble of thunder amid the deluge appeared out of place on the drought-stricken plains.

“I never thought…oh, blessed rain!” Glory laughed.

Her jubilance almost shrouded the wretched misery gripping his guts. Time to leave soon.

“Yep, a cloudburst all right.”

“For two cents, I’d run out and stand in the middle of it. It’s been so blasted long.”

And he’d gladly get soaked with her for half of that.

“You’d best get dressed before Punkin comes barreling through that door.” He hated the gruffness that snuck into the warning. His breath came ragged and harsh.

“Just think how her tongue would wag.” Glory fumbled for her shirt.

“Yes, indeed.”

Dim light through the loft door played across gentle features that had seen tender years cut short by too much work and turmoil. He’d give nigh anything to bring back the stolen smiles and laughter.

If his plan worked…