She was waiting now for her husband to join her. She stood at the bedroom window above the Perkinses’ parlor and stared out into the night while she brushed her hair. The moon was beautiful tonight, and the sky was alive with at least a hundred stars. Crickets were singing their nightly song in unison. The scent of pine filled the air, and everything seemed magical.
The long-stemmed pink rose Travis had given her before the wedding ceremony was in a vase on the table beside her. She picked it up and held it against her heart.
She turned around when the door opened. Travis came inside, bolted the door, and turned to look at her. His breath caught in his throat, and he was suddenly overwhelmed by the beautiful woman he had managed to capture.
She was dressed in a prim white nightgown that covered her from the top of her neck to the bottom of her slippers.
“Good evening, Mrs. Clayborne.”
She laughed, and he felt as though he’d just been embraced by her warmth. He leaned back against the door and grinned at her.
“Don’t be nervous.”
“Why do you think I’m nervous?”
“You just threw your brush out the window.”
She laughed again. “I want it to be perfect for you.”
“It already is.”
It was the most perfectly wonderful thing he could have said to her. Oh, how she loved this man.
He removed his shirt, tossed it on the back of a chair, took off his shoes and socks next, and then came to her.
“You aren’t really nervous, are you, sweetheart?”
“Just a little,” she admitted. “I know what’s going to happen. I’m just not familiar with the how.”
“You mean you haven’t made a thorough study on the subject?” he teased.
“No, but I imagine you have.”
He took the rose out of her hand and slowly trailed the fragrant bud down the side of her cheek. His gaze never left hers, and within seconds, the apprehension she had felt was gone.
“I love you, Emily. And only you,” he told her in a rich, gruff voice.
Impatient to take her into his arms, he put the rose back in the vase and carried her over to the side of the bed. She kicked her slippers off on the way.
“Do you want me to explain in detail what I’m planning to do?”
She knew from the tone of his voice that he was teasing her. “No, thank you very much, but I appreciate the offer. I believe I’d rather you showed me.”
He gently placed her in the center of the bed and came down on top of her, careful to brace his weight with his arms.
He leaned over her and stared into her eyes, savoring the love he saw there. “I’m going to make a thorough study of you, Mrs. Clayborne. God, I love the sound of that, and when I’m finished, it’s my sincere hope you’ll thank me very much.”
He was tossing her favorite expressions back at her. The way he was looking at her, with such love and desire, filled her with anticipation, and if she had trusted her voice, she would have told him he didn’t need to worry about putting her at ease now. She was more than ready to become his wife in the most intimate way. Heaven help her, she was eager.
Shivers raced down her spine when he nuzzled the side of her neck. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and stroked his back.
He was determined to let her set the pace tonight, and within minutes he was richly rewarded. She tugged on his hair, demanded he stop teasing her and give her a proper kiss. One was all it took for passion to explode between them. By the time he removed her gown and his trousers, she was breathless with excitement and he was having a hell of a time breathing at all.
He knew more about how her body would react to him than she did. His hands were strong yet incredibly gentle as he stroked the fire inside her.
And when at last they joined as one, it was all so astonishingly exquisite, she couldn’t contain her cry. She was overwhelmed with the love she felt for this man. He made it so very perfect for her.
He felt her tighten around him, and he gave in to his own climax, shaking now because he had never experienced such splendor before.
It took a long while for either one of them to recover. They lay together in a tangle of legs and arms, and, damn, he was so happy and content he thought he must be in heaven.
She was so happy she needed to cry and laugh at the same time. The satisfied look on his face was comical to her. Then she realized she probably looked the same way.
He kept her in his arms when he rolled onto his back. She stretched out along his side and put her arm across his chest.
“Now, aren’t you sorry you made me wait so long?”
She patted his chest while she gently corrected him. “It was only two weeks. You knew that stagecoach was going to leave while you were kissing me, didn’t you?”
“Of course. Did you honestly think I would let you go?”
“I honestly think I’m happy you didn’t.”
He laughed. He was so pleased with her he had to kiss her again. Then he let his head drop back on the pillow and let out a loud, sleepy yawn.
“You put me through hell waiting to get my hands on you.”
He was exaggerating, of course, at least she thought he was, and she wouldn’t have given up the last two weeks for anything. He had proven to her during that time that he was possibly the most romantic man in the entire world. He’d courted her with what he referred to as a vengeance. She had never had a chance against him—he’d warned her about that—but she had held out for as long as possible to give him time to make certain he wanted to spend the rest of his life with her.
She had been concerned that it was only an infatuation on his part and therefore he saw only the good qualities in her. He had set her straight about her misconception at dinner the night before by cheerfully listing every single one of her flaws. It took him a long time to get them said too, and though she had been aware of a few, he pointed out several more she hadn’t even known about. She was still stubbornly insisting that she wasn’t stubborn at all.
“Do you know what I think, Travis? That one kiss good-bye led to this night.”
He rolled her onto her back again. “I knew before then, and so did you. I love you.”
“I love you too.”
“Emily?”
“Yes?”
“Kiss me good-bye again.”
One White Rose
Time of Roses
It was not in the Winter
Our loving lot was cast;
It was the time of roses—
We pluck’d them as we pass’d!
That churlish season never frown’d
On early lovers yet:
O no—the world was newly crown’d
With flowers when first we met!
Thomas Hood (1798-1845)
One
The little woman was in trouble. Big trouble. No one, male or female, pointed a rifle at Douglas Clayborne without paying the consequences, and just as soon as he could get the weapon away from her, he would tell her so.
First, he was going to have to sweet-talk her into stepping out of the stall and into the light. He planned to keep on talking until he had edged close enough to take her by surprise. He’d rip the rifle out of her hands, unload it, and break the damned thing over his knee. Unless it was a Winchester. Then he’d keep it.
He could barely see her now. She was crouched down low behind the gate, shrouded in shadows, with the barrel of the gun resting on the top slat. A kerosene lamp was hooked to a post on the opposite side of the barn, but the light wasn’t sufficient for him to see much of anything at all from where he stood, shifting from foot to foot, a few feet inside the open door.
A hard, driving rain was pelting his back. He was soaked through, and so was Brutus, his sorrel. He needed to get the saddle off the animal and dry him down as soon as possible, but what he wanted to do and what the woman would let him do were two different matters.
A bolt of lightning lit up the entrance, foll
owed by a reverberating boom of thunder. Brutus reared up, let out a loud snort, and tossed his head. The horse obviously wanted out of the rain as much as he did.
Douglas kept his attention on the rifle while he tried to soothe the animal with a whispered promise that everything was going to be all right.
“Are you Isabel Grant?”
She answered with a low, guttural groan. He thought his harsh tone had frightened her and was about to try again in a calmer voice when he heard her panting. At first he thought he was mistaken, but the noise got louder. She was panting all right, and that didn’t make a lick of sense. The woman hadn’t moved a muscle since he’d come inside the barn, so she couldn’t possibly be out of breath.
He waited for the panting to subside before he spoke again. “Are you Parker Grant’s wife?”
“You know who I am. Go away or I’ll shoot you. Leave the door open behind you. I want to watch you ride away.”
“Lady, my business is with your husband. If you’ll kindly tell me where he is, I’ll go talk to him. Didn’t he tell you I was coming here? My name is . . .”
She interrupted him in a shout. “I don’t care what your name is. You’re one of Boyle’s men, and that’s all I need to know. Get out.”
The panic in her voice frustrated the hell out of him. “There isn’t any need to get upset. I’m leaving. Will you tell your husband Douglas Clayborne is waiting in town to give him the rest of the money for the Arabian? I’m going to have to see the animal first, as he agreed. Can you remember all that?”
“He sold you a horse?”
“Yes, he did. He sold me an Arabian stallion a couple of months ago.”
“You’re lying to me,” she cried out. “Parker would never have sold either one of my Arabians.”
He wasn’t in the mood to argue with her. “I’ve got the papers to prove it. Just tell him, all right?”
“You purchased a horse you’ve never seen?”
“My brother saw him,” he explained. “And his judgment is as good as mine.”
She burst into tears. He took a step toward her before he realized he was actually thinking about comforting the woman, and abruptly stopped.
“I’m real sorry your husband didn’t tell you about the horse.”
“Oh, God, please, not now.”
She started panting again. What in blazes was the matter with her? He knew something was wrong, and he had a feeling her husband was responsible for her tears. The man should have told his wife about the horse. Still, her reaction was a bit extreme.
Douglas thought he should say something to help her get past her misery.
“I’m sure all married couples go through spots of trouble now and then. Your husband must have had a good reason for selling the stallion, and he was probably so busy he forgot to tell you about it. That’s all.”
The panting got louder before it stopped. Then she whimpered low in her throat. The sound reminded him of a wounded animal. He wanted to walk away but knew he couldn’t leave her if she was in trouble . . . and just where was good old Parker anyway?
“This shouldn’t be happening,” she cried out.
“What shouldn’t be happening?” he asked.
“Go away,” she shouted.
He was stubborn enough to stay right where he was. “I’m not leaving until you tell me who Boyle is. Did he hurt you? You sound like you’re in a lot of pain.”
Isabel instinctively responded to the concern she heard in his voice. “You aren’t working for Boyle?”
“No.”
“Prove it to me.”
“I can’t prove it to you without showing you the letter from your husband and the paper he signed.”
“Stay where you are.”
Since he hadn’t moved an inch, he couldn’t understand her need to shout at him. “If you want me to help you, you’ll have to tell me what’s wrong.”
“Everything’s wrong.”
“You’re going to have to be a little more specific.”
“He’s coming, and it’s much too early. Don’t you understand? I must have done something wrong. Oh, God, please don’t let him come yet.”
“Who is coming?” he demanded. He nervously glanced behind him and squinted out into the night. He thought she might be talking about Boyle, whoever in tarnation he was.
He was wrong about that.
“The baby,” she cried. “I can feel another contraction.”
Douglas felt as though he’d just been punched hard in the stomach. “You’re having a baby? Now?”
“Yes.”
“Ah, lady, don’t do that.” He didn’t realize how foolish his demand was until she told him so between whimpers. His head snapped back. “Are you having a pain now?”
“Yes.” She said the word with a long moan.
“For the love of God, take your finger off the trigger and put the rifle down.”
She couldn’t understand what he was telling her. The contraction was cresting with such agonizing intensity she could barely stand up. She squeezed her eyes shut and clenched her teeth together while she waited for the pain to stop.
She realized her mistake as soon as she opened her eyes again, but it was already too late. The stranger had vanished. He hadn’t left the barn though. His horse was still standing by the door.
The rifle was suddenly snatched out of her hands. With a cry of terror, she backed further into the stall and waited for him to attack.
Everything began to happen in slow motion. The gate squeaked open, but, to her, the sound was a piercing, unending scream. The stranger, a tall, muscular man who seemed to swallow up all the space inside the stall, came toward her. His hair and eyes were dark, his expression was angry . . . and, oh, God, she didn’t want him to kill her yet. The baby would die inside her.
Her mind simply couldn’t take any more. She took a deep breath to scream, knowing that once she started, she would never be able to stop. Please, God, understand. I can’t do this any longer. I can’t . . . I can’t. . . .
He pulled her back from the edge of insanity without saying a word. He simply handed the rifle to her.
“Now, you listen to me,” he ordered. “I want you to stop having this baby right now.” After giving the harsh and thoroughly unreasonable command, he turned around and walked away.
“Are you leaving?”
“No, I’m not leaving. I’m moving the light so I can see what I’m doing. If you’re this close to having a baby, what are you doing in a barn? Shouldn’t you be in bed?”
She started panting again. The sound sent chills down his spine.
“I asked you to stop that. The baby can’t come now, so just forget about it.”
She waited for the contraction to end before she told him he was an idiot.
He secretly agreed. “I just don’t want you to do this until I find your husband.”
“I’m not doing it on purpose.”
“Where’s Parker?”
“He’s gone.”
He let out an expletive. “I had a feeling you were going to tell me that. He picked a fine time to go gallivanting.”
“Why are you so angry with me? I’m not going to shoot you.”
He wasn’t angry; he was scared. He had helped a countless number of animals with their deliveries, but he hadn’t helped any women with childbirth and he didn’t want to help Isabel Grant now. Oh, yes, he was scared all right, but he was smart enough not to let her know it.
“I’m not angry,” he said. “You just took me by surprise. I’ll help you back to the house, and then I’ll go get the doctor.” He hoped to God she wouldn’t tell him the town didn’t have a physician.
“He can’t come here.”
Douglas finally got the lamp hooked to the post connected to the stall. He turned around and saw Isabel clearly for the first time. She was an attractive woman, even with the frown on her face. She had freckles across the bridge of her nose, and he had always been partial to women with freckles. He’d always
liked red hair too, and hers was a dark, vibrant red that glistened like fire in the light.
She was a married woman he reminded himself, and he shouldn’t be noticing her appearance. Still, facts were facts. Isabel Grant was one fine-looking woman.
She was also as big as a house. Noticing that helped him regain his wits. “Why can’t the doctor come here?”
“Sam Boyle won’t let him. Dr. Simpson came here once when I was too far along to go into town to see him, but Boyle told him he’d kill him if he ever tried to come to me again. He’d do it too,” she added in a whisper. “He’s a terrible man. He owns the town and everyone in it. The people are decent, but they do whatever Boyle tells them to do because they’re afraid of him. I can’t blame them. I’m afraid of him too.”
“What’s Boyle got against you and your husband?”
“His ranch is next to ours, and he wants to expand so his cattle will have more grazing land. He offered Parker money for the deed, but it was only a pittance compared to what my husband paid for it. He wouldn’t have sold it for any amount of money though. This is our home and our dream.”
“Isabel, where is Parker now?” As soon as he saw the tears in her eyes, he had his answer. “He’s dead, isn’t he?”
“Yes. He’s buried up on the hill behind the barn. Someone shot him in the back.”
“Boyle?”
“Of course.”
Douglas leaned back against the post, folded his arms across his chest, and waited for her to compose herself.
She sagged against the wall and lowered her head. She was suddenly so weary she could barely stand up.
He waited another minute before he started questioning her again. “Did the sheriff investigate?”
“Sweet Creek doesn’t have a sheriff any longer. Boyle must have run him off before Parker and I moved here.”
“No one wants the job, I suppose.”
“Would you?” She wiped a tear from her cheek and looked up at him. “Dr. Simpson told me Sweet Creek used to be a quiet little town. He and his wife are my friends,” she added. “They’re both trying to help.”
“How?”
“They’ve sent wires and written letters to all the surrounding towns asking for assistance. The last time I saw the doctor, he told me he had been hearing stories about a U.S. marshal in the area. He believed the lawman was the answer to our prayers. The doctor hadn’t been able to locate him yet, but he was certain he would come if he knew how many laws Boyle had broken. I try not to lose hope,” she added. “Boyle has at least twenty men working for him, and I think it would take an army of marshals to defeat him.”