A Promise of Roses (19 page)

"Oh, let me look at it, for heaven's sake.” She moved closer, absently tossing her hair behind her.

Slowly, he moved his hand, revealing the small dabs of red on his upper thigh. Barely as big as pinpricks, she thought, though her conscience was accosted with a rare jolt of guilt.

She decided to play along with his “poor me” scenario. “Oh!” she gasped. “It
is
bad.” Jumping up, she went directly to the flatware drawer, returning with a sharp, serrated steak knife. “I may have to operate"

His eyes widened, but he didn't respond.

She ran a thumb over the injury. “Yes, I think that's best. Let's see.” She leaned back to contemplate her next move.

"I think it would be best if I cut right ... about ...
here."
Her fingers wrapped around his flaccid manhood. It jumped and stirred beneath her touch. She lifted her eyes to Lucas, waiting for him to react.

His features remained calm. He didn't move so much as a muscle. “I don't think that's such a good idea,” he finally said.

"Oh, no?"

He shook his head.

"Why not?"

He shrugged, a wicked grin touching his lips. “You may want to use it later."

She did indeed.

They made love again, right there on the kitchen floor, both the pie and their battle for it forgotten. Afterward, Megan made a half-hearted attempt to gather her robe around her bare torso, but with Lucas resting between her thighs, her effort was useless. And she really had no desire to shield herself from him anyway.

"How will Brandt know where to find you?” she asked, breaking the silence in the room.

He gave a grunt, shifting to his side to lean back against the row of cupboards. She rolled with him, her head on his shoulder, one leg sandwiched between his.

"That's what you've been thinking about all this time?"

"I haven't been thinking about it all this time,” she said with undisguised innuendo.
“Just the last few minutes."

"Did anyone ever tell you that you're hard on a man's pride?"

"No. Why?"

He inhaled deeply. “'cause a man likes to think he's pleasured a woman so well, she won't be thinking of anything else for a good, long while."

"Oh. Well, then, pretend I didn't ask about Brandt Donovan, and I'll just lie here all glassy-eyed and swooning.” She let her muscles go slack, her head lolling to the side.

Lucas chuckled. “No good,” he said. “I already know you've amply recovered from my ministrations. So go ahead and ask your questions."

She scrambled up on one elbow, her fingers teasing over his chest. “How will your friend know where to find us?"

"He won't. I'll find him."

"And just how will you manage that?” she asked doubtfully.

"In the wire I sent this afternoon, I told him to get a room at the hotel when he gets to town, which should be in a couple of days. I'll ride in to get him and bring him out here to your place."

"Why not just have
him
ask for directions? Everyone in town knows how to get here."

"Do you want people getting suspicious? All I need is for somebody to figure out that you're here in Leavenworth rather than a hundred miles away, tied to the back of some bloodthirsty outlaw's horse. I can see it now: a mob of angry townspeople marching toward this house with lit torches, demanding to know why you're holed up in here with me. No doubt they'd lynch me for defiling you."

"Well, now, how would they know you'd done that?"

He chuckled. “They wouldn't have to know it. They'd assume it. A lone woman in the same house with a lone man means trouble—in this case, for the man. Folks take one look at me and think rape. Hell,” he scoffed, “they'd probably think I was one of the bandits who nabbed you to begin with"

"Poor baby.
Your future is beginning to look rather bleak."

Her soft words caused his brows to come together. “You don't sound too worried about it."

"I'm not. After all, if they hang you, I won't have to go to jail. What's so bad about that?"

He moved to hover over her, barring escape with his arms on both sides of her waist. “But if I'm dead,” he said, his mouth close to her ear, “there won't be anyone around to make you scream.” For emphasis, his tongue licked lightly up her neck to the hollow beneath her ear.

She ran her hands over the thick muscles of his upper arms, enjoying the warm, tingling sensations his touch created. His was not to be the last word, however. Her head fell aside to allow him better access as she purred deep in her throat.

"That's true,” she said. “But I'll bet Brandt Donovan would be more than happy to take your place."

Lucas froze. Then slowly, ever so slowly, he raised his head. “If he even thought about it, I'd kill him."

"But he's your best friend."

"Friends share a lot of things, but not women.
Never women."

"But if they hang you, won't it be his duty to take your place?"

"No,” he answered curtly.

"You can't expect me to be alone forever,” she said.

But as she said it, she no longer found the conversation amusing. Suddenly she wasn't joking anymore. She meant what she said. She couldn't lock herself away just because Lucas wasn't there. When he left, it would all be over. As hard as it might be, she would have to go on with her life.

"You can't expect me to be alone forever,” she said again, her throat raw, her eyes burning.

He moved off her, getting to his feet. When he spoke, his voice, too, sounded pained. “I know.” Then, with no concern for his nakedness, he walked through the swinging kitchen door and out of sight.

Megan rolled onto her side, clutching the soft material of her wrap close.
I will not cry, she
told herself.
I will not cry
. But no matter how hard she tried to follow her own dictate, tears seeped through her lashes and down her temple, soaking the sleeve of her robe.

An hour later, Megan composed herself and went in search of Lucas. She had to apologize. Not for what she'd said—she'd meant that—but for seeming to complain about his impending departure. She wasn't a little girl anymore, believing in fairy tales and happily ever after. He would leave, and she would go on with her life. In her head, she knew that. She just couldn't seem to convince her heart.

She found Lucas sitting on the settee, staring into the last embers of the fire. He must have gone upstairs first, because he was now dressed, though his shirt and trousers were left unbuttoned. He didn't move when she touched his shoulder. She wrapped her arms around his neck from behind, touching her lips to his ear to whisper, “I'm sorry."

He didn't say anything, but his hands came up to cover hers.

"I know you have to leave,” she continued. “I shouldn't have brought it up."

He leaned his head against her shoulder. “You have a right to be angry,” he said. “You deserve more than a few quick tumbles and a wave farewell as I ride off in search of Silas Scott. You deserve forever. But that's one thing I can't give you."

"
Shh
,” she whispered, pressing a kiss to his jaw. “I'm old enough to make my own decisions, Lucas McCain. I don't need you to protect my delicate sensibilities. When we made love that first time in Wichita, I knew you weren't planning on sticking around. I knew it wasn't forever, and I still chose to fall in love with you. That was my decision, Lucas. And I think it was a pretty darn good one.

"And I'm going to make another right now. I want to be with you.
For as long as I've got.
If you ride out of town tomorrow morning, then I want tonight. If you stick around for a week, I want seven days. After that, I won't try to make you stay. I can't say I won't be sad when you leave, but I can promise that I won't regret one moment of the time I spend with you."

She straightened, running a hand through his crop of sandy hair. “If that isn't enough to convince you to come up to bed with me, then I give up.” Turning, she walked from the room.

Halfway up the steps, she stopped to listen. The low creak of the sofa told her he'd stood. She smiled as she rushed up the remaining stairs. She wanted to be naked and waiting when he arrived at her door. She had promised not to try to make him stay, but she was damn well going to let him know what he'd be missing when he left.

A noise awoke Lucas. He shot straight up in bed, dumping Megan's head off his shoulder as he reached out an arm in search of his pistol. The holster rested where he'd put it in the middle of the night, on the table beside the bed. His fingers closed around the butt of the gun.

He listened, and again he heard something. Peacemaker gripped in his right hand, he struggled into his trousers.

On the bed, Megan came more fully awake. “What is it?” she asked, brushing tangled hair away from her face.

"
Shh
!” he hissed harshly. Grasping her fingers, he thrust a gun into her hand. “Use this if you have to.” Then he picked up the matching pistol and sneaked out of the room.

Slowly he made his way down the stairs to the front door, where the noise seemed to be coming from. Suddenly the door opened, catching on the chain Lucas had had the sense to latch last night before following Megan upstairs.

"Son of a bitch,” he heard.
Followed by a higher, lighter, “
Thun
of a bitch."

"Don't let your mother hear you talking like that,” the deeper voice chastened.

Lucas's brow wrinkled. What the hell was going on?

Megan's cry from behind him brought his gun up, cocked and ready. Then the door burst in, crashing against the wall, and Lucas found himself once again face-to-face with—and aiming a gun at—a furious Caleb Adams. Right beside him stood little Zach and Rebecca, holding baby Rose.

"Jesus!” he swore, immediately lowering the revolver.

"First you threaten to shoot me!” Caleb roared. “Now you point a gun at my wife?” He moved forward, looking as if he was about to do murder.

Lucas held up a hand, about to explain.

"Lucas!” Megan
came
flying down the stairs, a robe hastily wrapped around her nude figure, the Peacemaker dangling from her hand at her side. “I heard Zachary,” she said breathlessly as she threw herself into his arms. Then she looked around at the others.

The minute she saw the unbridled fury in her brother's eyes, her arms fell away from Lucas's bare chest. “Caleb.” She turned her head. “Rebecca. What are you
doing
here?"

"I was about to ask you—and your friend, here,” Caleb growled, looking pointedly at Lucas, “the same question."

"I was under the impression that this was Megan's house,” Lucas said. “I hardly think she has to apprise you of her comings and goings."

Caleb took a menacing step forward.

"Caleb!” Megan and Rebecca both cried at the same time. He stopped, but the angry flush in his face didn't fade.

"What are you doing here?” Megan asked again.

When Caleb chose to stare down Lucas rather than answer his sister, Rebecca sighed and shifted
Rose
to her other arm. “We went to the jail first thing this morning to check on you. You weren't there,” she said, as though it were some huge revelation. “Marshal Thompson didn't seem to know what we were talking about when we told him Mr. McCain had planned to turn you in for stealing those railroad payrolls."

By Rebecca's second sentence, Megan was shaking her head. “Lucas decided not to turn me in. He wired his friend Brandt Donovan, who's head of security for the railroad, instead. If Brandt still thinks I was involved in the robberies, he'll take me to the marshal."

"Why the sudden change of heart?” Caleb asked, his tone of voice making it clear he didn't trust Lucas any more than he would a bull with its ass in a dander.

"No change of heart,” Lucas said. He made a point of keeping his words and attitude light. He wasn't going to back down from a direct confrontation with Caleb, but he also didn't want to stir up too much trouble. The man was, after all, Megan's brother. Funny how many times he seemed to be reminding himself of that fact.

"I just decided the railroad wasn't paying me enough to track down the outlaws and turn in their leader. If Brandt feels that's necessary, he'll have to do it himself."

"They're paying you enough to sleep with the prisoner, though, aren't they?"

Lucas's jaw
tightened,
and it took every ounce of his patience not to smash his fist into Caleb's smug face.

"Caleb! Watch how you talk in front of your son,” Rebecca reminded him.

All eyes turned to Zach. His smiling face peeked out from behind his father's pant leg. It was plain to see that he loved listening in on adult conversations.

"If you want to discuss that sort of thing, I suggest you and Mr. McCain go outside,” Rebecca offered.

"That won't be necessary,” Caleb said. His glance moved to Megan. “You okay, sis?"

"I'm fine. Just surprised to see you here, is all. What time is it, anyway?"

"About nine,” Rebecca supplied.

"Already?
My goodness, it's so hard to tell with all the shutters closed. Lucas didn't want anyone to know we were here, so we didn't open them."

Rebecca rolled her eyes. “There would've been a swarm of people here for sure if they had suspected someone was staying in the house. The citizens of Leavenworth are busybodies,” she told Lucas. “They pride themselves on knowing everything about everyone else."

"He figured as much,” Megan said. “Especially since I was supposed to be off to God knows where being kidnapped. Would you like some coffee?” she asked, changing the subject.

"Yes."

"No."

Caleb and Rebecca answered at the same time.

"No,” Rebecca stated more firmly. “We didn't mean to disturb you. We only wanted to make sure you were all right. We'll pack up a box of food and such and bring it over later. Would tonight be all right?"

Megan blushed, knowing Rebecca was as much as asking if they'd be out of bed by then. “Tonight is fine."

"How about seven o'clock?” her sister-in-law asked, doing her best to turn her husband and son around and usher them out the front door.

"That's fine. You can stay for dinner."