The Outlaw Bride Page 12

  When Rachel caught sight of him returning, her eyes lit up unexpectedly and a smile curved her lips. The setting sun put a glow on her face, illuminating her warm brown eyes. Jacob held her gaze for a moment, then watched the smile disappear.

  “I wasn’t certain you’d be able to do it,” she said in a voice that didn’t match the tenderness he’d seen in her eyes only moments before.

  “I didn’t,” he admitted. “I had help.”

  She glanced behind him. “Tell me you’re not carrying a fairy in your pocket.”

  “No fairies. Sorry, only a little red-haired boy.”

  “No matter,” she said, retying the string on her apron. “Never did believe in fairies anyhow.”

  Jacob couldn’t help but notice that the buttons down the front of Rachel’s shirtwaist gapped open. He tried not to stare, but he couldn’t seem to stop himself. He took a step closer.

  “What … what are you thinking, Jacob Christopher?”

  He saw the sudden flash of fear in her eyes that came with realization. “Right now I don’t think you want to know.” He handed her the bucket and closed his eyes to block out temptation.

  “Don’t you go passing out on me,” she snapped, suddenly beside him, her arm around his waist, those full breasts pressed against his chest. The ever-present throbbing in his head intensified.

  He started to fade into blackness, all the while knowing that he’d never be able to control himself around this woman if he remained conscious.

  11

  Josie looked down at the sodden mass of cornmeal and winced. “I should have stayed home and learned to cook,” Josie sighed. But that wasn’t what Dr. Annie had in mind for her daughter. Josie was to go to school, and it was there that learning became her passion.

  Then Lubina was hired, and it was understood that no one was to trepass in her kitchen, which suited Josie fine. And when Josie went to New York to read law, there were housekeepers and cooks in both of her grandfathers’ homes.

  Josie had spent most of her life scavenging for books, and through her reading she’d discovered a world she’d never even dreamed of. But it was a world that didn’t include cooking.

  So be it. She found a skillet inside the oven, still greasy from its last use. With a small prayer for help from Lubina’s patron saint of the kitchen, she poured the mixture into the skillet and plopped it on top of the stove where she could keep an eye on it.

  Callahan snored in the room off the parlor-kitchen, exhausted from their ride and, Josie suspected, from the disappointment of not finding Ben. After they stabled the horses, she’d insisted he rest before they started back to Sharpsburg.

  He hadn’t argued. “All you have to do is start the fire,” he said. “I’ll just rest a few minutes, and then I’ll help you make something to eat.”

  But as he slept, she became restless, pacing the small cabin, her thoughts focused on him. Not on his health, or even on what they’d done by breaking him out of jail, but on the man. Her heart hurt for the pain he felt because he thought he had let Ben down. Facing the possibility of losing your family must be devastating. She had better get used to that idea, she thought. After what she’d done, that could very well happen.

  Josie continued to pace, torn between concern for her family’s reaction to what she’d done and her feelings for this man for whom she’d risked everything. It wasn’t just that Sims Callahan was an incredibly handsome man, it was the strong sense of connection she felt to him. The feeling of danger was gone. Whatever he’d done, it was to protect the people he cared about. He was simply trying to find a place where he could belong—just like her.

  Josie didn’t fool herself about how vulnerable she was right now. They were alone out here, and though he was still not back to his full strength, he could overpower her with nothing more than a kiss. Her heart moved like a wild mustang in a small corral.

  She had to find something to do, else she’d wake Callahan, and that could be a mistake. How hard could making coffee be? She found a real coffeepot, filled it with water, and placed it on the hot stove. Next, she opened the can of coffee and measured out a loose handful, hoping it was enough to make a reasonable cup of coffee without having it walk out the door. Opening the top buttons of her shirtwaist, she fanned herself. How did women do this three times a day? The stove heated the July air, but it wasn’t just the air that caused her forehead to bead with perspiration. It was the man sleeping in the other room.

  Josie picked up her law books and tried to research cases that might be similar to Callahan’s, cases where juries had reversed sentences, cases about breaking and entering and larceny, but if there was a case involving a man who was robbed while transporting money, she couldn’t find it. Josie the attorney was out of her element; she’d become Josie the woman, and there were no books in her carryall to give her directions about that.

  Josie’s thoughts drifted to Ellie, and she wondered what had happened to her when she arrived in town. Did Will Spencer know that Callahan was out of jail? Was he still in Sharpsburg?

  It would have made more sense for her to go into Sharpsburg and question Banker Perryman about Callahan’s loan herself. But the truth was, she’d come to the ranch instead because she couldn’t resist this man. In a matter of days she’d shed the fourteen years of training that had gone into making her a lady. She’d gone from upholding the law to breaking it. Now she was an outlaw, too. She’d chosen a different trail and she’d have to ride it to the end, wherever that might take her.

  She let her gaze wander across the meager furnishings of the center room through the open doorway. Callahan lay sprawled across the bed like some loose-limbed child. His new clothes, softened now by wear, were wrinkled. He’d removed the replacement boots Will had provided for him. Josie had had to cut the old ones off Callahan’s wounded body.

  This ranch wasn’t much, but it was Ben’s dream. By now, Josie had figured that it was as much Callahan’s dream as Ben’s. And suddenly it had become hers, too, because saying it would be the measure of her success as an attorney.

  A burning smell brought Josie back to the present. She turned and reached out to pull the skillet away from the heat, letting out an oath of pain when the handle touched her bare fingers.

  “Son of a—”

  The skillet hit the floor in a clatter. Callahan jumped to his feet. “What’s wrong?” he asked, reaching for the gun that wasn’t there.

  “Nothing,” Josie said, dropping to the floor to conceal the evidence of her total incompetence. “I’m … I’m just a little woozy,” she whispered foolishly.

  “Careful!” Callahan started toward her. “If you’re going to faint, don’t fall against the stove.” He covered the distance between them in long steps, and before she realized what he was doing, he’d knelt, pulled her up, and held her against him.

  “I wasn’t going to faint,” she protested. Though now that she was being clasped to his big strong chest, she might be speaking a little too soon.

  “No wonder you’re feeling woozy. It’s as hot as a Texas prairie fire in here. We’re used to it, but that hacienda you live in is ten degrees cooler. Let’s get you out of some of those clothes.”

  She looked at him in shock.

  “I mean, we need to wash your face with some cool water. On second thought, the river will be quicker.” Within seconds he was on his feet and pushing her out the door, down the steps, across the yard, and into the cottonwoods.

  “Let me go, Callahan. I’m just fine,” she said, but he wasn’t listening, and she wasn’t even sure she’d said the words.

  He plowed directly into the river and sat, clothes and all, pulling her into the water next to him. The water level came only to his waist, but it came to her breasts. The current was strong enough to rock her, and she began to struggle.

  “I thought the rivers dried up in summer,” she sputtered.

  “Not this one,” Callahan answered, dragging her across his lap. “It comes straight out of the mounta
ins underground.”

  She tried to keep herself upright, but the water kept pushing her against him. He realized what was happening and lifted her, letting the current settle her in his lap, then turned her so that her upper body was facing him and her legs were around him.

  Her skirt rose like a bubble and floated loose about the tops of her thighs, exposing her stockings and her legs.

  Josie had little choice except to slide her arms around his neck to balance herself. She was the weak one, not Callahan, and she found herself clinging to him shamelessly. Protests swirled through her mind and disappeared. She was pressed against him, against the strong wall of his chest. This was forbidden; she should stop him, pull herself out of his grasp, and run back to the house.

  “Your wounds …”

  “My wounds are finally cool,” he said, sliding into shallow water and bringing her with him. “What about you?”

  “Better,” she lied. She’d been warm in the kitchen, but that heat didn’t compare to the heat rushing through her body at this moment. She wouldn’t be surprised if the water began to boil.

  She could feel his heart beating against her breasts, the heat of his breath against her forehead and in her hair. “If bathing my face was your objective, then you’ve certainly succeeded. There’s only one problem.” She pulled her soaked blouse away from her skin, squeezed the water from it, then realized that the wet fabric against her skin was her only protection from the delicious touch of Callahan’s chest.

  “Only one?” he questioned, his brow furrowed.

  She gulped in a breath of air, let it out, and said, “Our clothes are soaking wet and we have no more. We may draw just a little too much attention tonight when we ride into Sharpsburg, don’t you think?”

  “I can’t say that I’m doing a lot of thinking at the moment, about riding into Sharpsburg, that is.” His hands were moving against her back, his fingers pressing her closer to him. “But this is summer—in Wyoming—and wet clothes can be dried.” He pushed her skirt up to her waist and a moment later pulled it over her head and slung it to the bank.

  For a long minute they just looked at each other.

  “Are you afraid of me, Josie?”

  Her fingertips threaded through his hair, around his ear, and finally brushed the droplets from those long dark eyelashes. She became aware that his respiration had increased. Their eyes met in silent wonder. “Yes,” she whispered, knowing he understood that her agreement had nothing to do with their clothes.

  When Callahan kissed her, regrets and objections swirled through his mind. But this uncertainty soon turned into sweet response, blotting out any question. This woman filled a part of him he had walled off, a need to belong.

  She opened her lips without hesitation, and Callahan plundered her mouth relentlessly. She returned his every move. Josie Miller was his equal, and she gave freely. She had already tainted her reputation; nothing would change that. She was here for him and he wanted to belong to her.

  She pressed against him, then pulled back, looking up at him with stormy eyes that didn’t back down. “Why are you doing this?” she asked.

  He could have kissed her again and swept away her questions with passion, but she deserved better. She deserved the truth. “Because a man like me gets only one chance at loving a woman like you, Josie.”

  And I care about you, he could have said. He’d known it when she helped him escape, but he’d fought the truth.

  Now he wanted to be inside her. They’d been heading for this moment from the beginning, and the sooner it was behind them, the sooner he’d be able to move on with his quest. And the sooner she’d go back to her safe, proper life.

  There in the pulsating water of the river, he unbuttoned her blouse and dragged it from her shoulders, throwing it toward the bank to join her skirt. The ends of her hair hung against her shoulders like bronze swirls. He looked down at her chemise, the wet fabric clinging to her puckered nipples. His breath caught in his throat. She was so beautiful, and she hadn’t pulled away. She trusted him. He cupped her breasts, taking one nipple between his lips. The feel of her—the taste of her inflamed him.

  He paused and fixed his gaze on her beautiful face.

  “You’d better stop me, Josie. Now, before this goes too far. You’re too good for someone like me. I’m an outlaw and you’re a lady.”

  “You think I’m a lady?” she asked in surprise. “I don’t think my parents would agree.”

  “Too much of a lady for me.”

  He let go of her breast and slid one hand down her stomach between them, his knuckles rubbing the V between her legs. He lifted her with his knees and unfastened his belt and his jeans, freeing the part of him that strained to reach the place where it belonged.

  “Let me know how you feel, or ride out of my life forever, Josie,” he whispered.

  She stared at him, bemused for a moment. Ride away? Out of his life forever? She couldn’t go. She wouldn’t leave him, no matter what he asked. How could she? Only now did she understand that she’d been waiting. Not for things or success or even the life she’d been given. Callahan was more than any of those things. He was the missing part of her. She was going to convince him of that.

  Callahan untied the strings to her drawers and tugged them lower.

  “Callahan,” she cried, reaching for his shoulders to balance herself. And suddenly they were both back in time, to that night in the courtyard when he’d ‘loved her.’ She dug her fingers into his flesh, felt him flinch, and remembered his wound.

  “Oh,” she cried out, drawing back.

  “Don’t pull away,” he rasped, twisting so that he could reach her nipples with his lips. “I want to show you what it means to have a man love you, Josie Miller,” he said, nuzzling the underside of her breasts through her chemise, then moving upward until he found a spot behind her ear. “And you want me too,” he growled. “Admit it.”

  “Please, Callahan,” she whispered.

  “Please what, Josie?”

  “Please love me, Callahan.”

  And there, in the middle of the afternoon, a river that should have flowed sedately, churned with the desire of two people. Josie knew that this man was what she wanted. All she’d done—learning medicine from her mother and studying the law—all she’d become was meant for this man. She’d saved his life that very first night. The ghost horse could have taken Callahan, but it hadn’t. He belonged to her and she would have to save his freedom.

  Josie leaned forward, kissed her outlaw, and lifted herself. She felt him tense. He thought she was leaving, something she never intended. Instead, she stripped off her chemise, then pitched it toward the bank and lowered herself, taking the tip of him inside her.

  Callahan tried to pull back, to give her more time to accept him. He slipped his hands around her waist and held her very still, whispering words of concern, but as her breathing grew more rapid, he knew she didn’t hear him. Callahan watched her beautiful face as, tentatively, she began to move. He tried to slow her but realized that she was as caught up in the feeling as he.

  With a will of their own, his hands and his body guided her, up and down. Her fingertips caught his face, curling and letting go. Then she arched her back away from him and let out a wild cry of release. He felt everything inside her explode.

  His own release followed, the sensation rocking him with intensity. And when he was spent, he pulled her close and held her for a long time.

  In the silence, he heard the song of the river, the wet slap of its current against Josie’s bare back. He felt the expanse of her chest as she breathed and the puckering of her nipples against him. Then reality hit. What in hell had he done? He’d known she was innocent, vulnerable, caught up in some kind of false sentiment that came from saving his life. Yet he hadn’t stopped.

  He felt a rush of unwelcome cold as she pulled away. Apparently she, too, was beginning to understand the enormity of what they’d done. Good. It was time she admitted what he was.

>   The last thing he expected was for her to lean down and cup his face with her hands. She smiled, and then she kissed him with such tenderness that he felt his heart take a painful lurch. As he looked into blue eyes as bright and open as a Wyoming sky, he knew something had changed. A feeling of wonder formed, growing in intensity, knocking around in his head and his heart until he felt his bones turn hot. And then he understood. He’d damn-it-to-hell fallen in love with Josie Miller.

  At last she pulled away.

  “You know that was a mistake,” Callahan finally said as she leaned back and smiled once more.

  “Are you sorry?” she asked.

  “No. But that’s not the point.”

  “What is the point?” she asked, wiggling her bottom against him.

  “The point is,” he growled and caught her waist, attempting to hold her still, “the point is that this isn’t smart, Josie.”

  With her hair wet and hanging behind her, she looked like some siren on Poseidon’s ocean rocks, and he was sitting here on the river bed, his jeans pulled down midthigh, with a rock digging a hole in his bare bottom, and he was beginning to get excited again.

  “Breaking you out of jail wasn’t smart either,” she said. “But that didn’t stop me. Sometimes it’s instinct that is most important. A person doesn’t always do what’s smart, does he?”

  “I’m smart enough to know that there’s a big difference between wanting a thing and being fool enough to justify having it.”

  The sun cut through the trees and covered Callahan’s craggy face with sunshine. Josie didn’t know if it was what they’d just experienced or something deep in his eyes, but she knew she’d reached a place that he hadn’t intended to let her go. “And you never think you deserve good things, do you?” she asked. “Well, neither do I. I’ve tried to be smart, but just this once I’ve got to let go and be myself. I think you’re like that, too, Callahan. We’re more alike than you think.” She stood and held out her hand.