Between Love and Lies (22 page)

What did you promise him, Sadie? Why can’t I earn the trust you gave him so freely? Why can’t you love me as well?
“Tell me the truth.”

“I have. But you aren’t listening.” She released a ragged sigh. “You can’t hear me. Can you?” Her hands fell onto the bed, limp with defeat. Her eyes remained closed. “You can’t hear me telling you that I don’t have the French pox. I never did.”

CHAPTER 14

She never
had syphilis. The truth toppled the weight off Noah’s shoulders onto his heart. Lies. It all came back to lies.

That’s why she kept taking the medicine. Not to cure a disease everyone assumed she had, but to support the lie that she did. She’d cobbled together what little she could from the tragedy of her friend’s life and death, and built the only wall she could between her and every grasping hand in Dodge.

By the time he’d ridden into town hell-bent on rescuing her, she’d already pulled off a feat more daring than any he could’ve imagined. More perilous, as well.

She’d gambled one too many times. Her blasted stubbornness had run out. Now there was only fever and death.

He picked her up and put her back in the barrel. This time she didn’t struggle. Above the water, her head lolled against his arm. Without him, she would’ve slipped under.

The seconds dragged by as he waited, then minutes too many count. Finally her skin cooled. He lifted her out, wrapped her in a sheet and sat on the floor to better cradle her in his arms. A shell of her former self, her shivers nonetheless rocked him.

You must get better.

And when she did, he couldn’t let her lies go unchallenged. Not about her health, about the so-called medicine, about what she’d promised Edward, about anything.

No more lies.

The dreaded heat returned, burning them both. He immersed her in the water until she cooled, drew her out and held her until she grew hot. The endless routine filled the night. He clung to it and her…until the room lightened with the coming dawn and he realized the storm had retreated along with Sadie’s fever.

With his gaze once again on her face, he swapped her sodden shift for a dry sheet. Only after he’d bundled her up, did he set her on his narrow bed…and let go. He sank to the floor. Adrift. Lost.

He latched onto her hand. Her fever might return. He needed to know if it did.

Exhaustion clawed him, deep, to the bone. With her hand in his, he stretched out on his side on the floor. The second the stiffness in his muscles eased, he’d get up.

He wanted to be awake when Sadie opened her eyes.

* * *

Even in sleep
, Noah held her captive. Not just his hand, engulfing hers. Or his arm, solid with muscles that continued across his bare shoulders and chest. But his face. Relaxed in slumber and free of its usual furrows of concern, he appeared…content. The angle of his jaw remained resolute, though, marking him as a man who got what he wanted.

When he’d proposed his deal for her farm, he’d said he wanted her company. A day ago in the saloon’s fancy room, he’d been blunter. He’d said he wanted her. Last night, he’d found her in his jail, in the room where he slept. Now he slept on the floor while she lay on his bed. He wore only his trousers, and she was wrapped in a…

She glanced down. A sheet?

He’d seen her completely naked. He got her naked. That undeniable truth made her skin tingle as if his gaze and his hands touched her right now.

What had they done? Good God, what had she
said?
Her last memory was being in her chemise, wanting it off and not only because she’d been unbearably hot. He’d said something about a fever and a bathtub. But the room only held a water barrel.

Once again he’d played nursemaid with the limited resources at hand. He’d undressed her to see to her health.

If she cared for him even a little bit, she’d leave. Gertie would be hollering for her return. Cora would be itching for vengeance. John would’ve searched the entire town, questioned everyone…except Noah. Her heart pounded. Was John already crossing the street, heading their way?

She had to go back. Willingly, so there wouldn’t be a fight. Without Noah by her side, so he wouldn’t be hurt. Or killed.

She stared at the ceiling, trying to banish an image of him, like Edward, lying lifeless in a sea of blood. She steeled herself for what she must do: retrieve her dress draped over the trunk on the other side of Noah and somehow free her hand from his hold—which had suddenly tightened.

Her breath caught in her throat. His breathing had changed as well. Silent. Held. Waiting for whatever she did next. He wasn’t going to let her go.

She bolted upright. On the floor beside her, Noah sat up as well. Reaching for her dress, her hand landed on his chest. He didn’t budge. But the bed did. It tipped and tossed her onto him.

Without letting go of her hand, his free arm lassoed her waist as he fell back onto the floor with her held secure on top of him. They both groaned. Her body was still sore from her tussle with the men at the rail depot. And Noah…? He couldn’t appreciate her landing so hard on him.

He didn’t complain, but his gaze scanned her face. Finally, he sighed. The tension in his expression, as well as his tightly coiled muscles under her, eased…until his gaze dipped to the sheet she wore, then shot back up to lock with hers.

He let go of her. All of her, including her hand.

Even stunned by the feel of him, warm and solid beneath her, she regretted the loss of his hand deeply.

“I’m glad to see you’re feeling better.” His deep voice lowered even further, vibrating in his chest, heavy with fatigue and something more. Energy, held in check, pulsed underneath her.

He snatched her dress off a nearby trunk and offered it to her. “Your shift is—” he swallowed roughly, “—around here somewhere as well. Once you get up, I’ll help you find it.”

“Last night, did I…?”

He stared at her dress bunched in his fist, the one she hadn’t moved to take. “Your fever’s gone. That’s all that matters.”

“Surely there’s more.”
So much more matters to me. I don’t want to lose you.

“You’re right. We have a lot to discuss.” Despite his agreement, uncertainty flashed in his eyes. “First of all, you can’t go back to the Star.”

She went rigid with rebellion. “Then why should I get dressed?”

“So you don’t distract me while we talk.” His growl of frustration rocked her against him and sent a thrill coursing through her veins.

Instinctively she pressed closer, seeking more.

With a curse, he lifted her off him, placing his hands only where the sheet touched her, making sure the thin fabric stayed around her. He placed her on the bed and rose to sit beside her. He’d done this before—when they’d first entered the fancy room together. Afterward, he’d moved as far away from her as the room would allow.

He didn’t now. He sat very close, between her and the door. He offered the dress to her again. “Are you ready to talk?”

Not if it meant putting him in danger. She had to leave, and she couldn’t do that naked. She grabbed the dress.

His grip on the garment remained firm. “As soon as you’re clothed, you’re going to run away again, aren’t you?”

I don’t want to. I have to.
Gritting her teeth, she tried to tug her dress free.

“Who else knows you don’t have syphilis?”

Shock dropped her jaw with the force of a sledge hammer. “What? Who said—?”

“You told me. Last night.”

In horrified silence, she gaped at him, waiting for him to say more. He didn’t, which meant
she
hadn’t said more. Or so she hoped. She released the breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding and prodded her brain to think.

If she told him everything, he’d confront Gertie. Maybe even arrest her. With nothing more than Sadie’s word, he wouldn’t be able to hold the madam. Gertie would go free. When she did, she’d know Sadie’s secrets as well. She’d hold all the cards. She might do to Noah what she’d done to Edward. And if she didn’t kill Noah, Cora would.

Noah’s continued silence along with his steely-eyed perusal sent her gaze skittering until it landed on the water barrel. “You can’t trust what someone says when they have a fever.” She cringed at the weakness of her bluff.

“I probably shouldn’t trust what you say at any time. But—” He exhaled a weary breath. “I want to believe that taking the medicine was a temporary measure to shore up the illusion you had syphilis. What will make you stop taking it?”

She refused to look at him. Another of his lengthy silences stretched her control—until it broke.

When she turned back to him, he no longer assessed her but the room instead. “If you’d found what you came hunting for, would you stop?” He shook his head. “No, you’d have your promise to Edward to fulfill.” He froze. “You’re here because of him.”

The walls pressed in on her. She had to leave this room. She yanked the dress they now both clutched in a white-knuckled grip.

“Your luck won’t last forever. You beat the odds surviving Edward’s illness and keeping away from all the men who wanted you afterward.” His breath hissed between his teeth as his gaze shot back to her. “No one came after Edward. Maybe not even before him. That’s why you said what you did about that book. That’s why your kisses—”

She seized the dress with both hands and heaved on it as hard as she could. “Let go.”

His eyes widened. “Edward was your first lover, your only lover. Everything you’ve done, you’ve done because you loved him.”

She shook her head, denying his words.

“What did you promise him you’d find?”

“No more questions.” She clamped her hand over his mouth.

He pushed her palm sideways and pressed it against his cheek. “Why didn’t you come to the jail sooner?”

“Stop.” A growing panic squeezed her chest. She fought to free both her dress and her hand from his hold. “Stop talking.”

“Someone told you about the deceased’s unclaimed baggage. You came as soon as you knew, searching for—” He scanned the room again. “Not money. Nothing so simple. Not when you wouldn’t take my money for your farm.”

She released the dress. Surging up onto her knees, she clasped his face in both hands and forced his gaze to meet hers. “I don’t want to talk about—”

“Of course!” His eyes shone like molten rivers of gold, as he closed in on the truth. “It’s not what you want, but what Edward wanted. What did he hold dear? What did he lose?”

Too close. And yet not close enough.
She was done with talking.

“What—?”

She kissed him, drawing his words into her mouth along with any protests he might make. He didn’t protest. Not even when the urge to be closer to him had her straddling his lap.

His hands landed on her hips. Hot against her bare skin. That was her first clue that the sheet had slipped away in her haste to silence him. His as well, judging by the way he inhaled sharply. His hold on her tightened, but he didn’t pull her closer.

Questions were forming inside him again. They vibrated in the small gap still separating them. Soon he’d continue seeking answers. Or worse, he’d push her away.

She couldn’t let him.

For months— No, for an entire year, she’d pretended to be a woman of experience. She’d done what the men of Dodge, and women like Gertie and Cora, had expected. She’d said what they wanted to hear, shown them what they wanted to see. The willingness to act on what she’d learned while playing her role had seen her through every challenge.

She’d done it all alone. By her own hand. Wasn’t that the definition of strength?

Or was it another lie? She’d never been alone. Nor did she want to be, she realized. Not when the world held someone like Noah.

Using every technique he’d taught her, she kissed him. Then she improvised several new ways. Instinct filled in the blanks.

His breathing, racing along with hers, gave her courage.

She made her mouth as persuasive as she could. He did the same. Her lips, her skin, the ache building inside her, craved his touch. She could almost forget this was another act of insane desperation. With so many lies between them, she couldn’t hold him forever. But she could have this one moment.

His hands traveled up to grasp her waist. The stroke of his work-roughened palms over her skin left her shaking. She grabbed one of his wrists to steady herself.

With his mouth hovering over hers, he froze again. Did he believe she meant to push him away?

She lifted his palm to her breast.

He groaned his pleasure against her cheek, down her neck and lower. How could such a simple sound enthrall her so completely? And his kisses as well? They fell like summer rain, soft and sweet on her skin. Then his tongue joined the dance.

A spark of sinful yearning made her arch toward him. She wrapped her arms around his neck and let her head fall back. Sure in the belief he held her safe, she gave herself up to him, to the fire he so deftly coaxed to life inside her.

His fingers skimmed down to where the heat flamed the hottest. He lifted his head and watched her with an intensity that made her heart race. His eyes never left hers as he stoked her desire until she blazed with need.