McKettrick's Heart (32 page)

Luke's grin intensified, but his eyes were tender. “That's quite a man you married, Molly. He called me yesterday afternoon, asked if I'd like to come up for a visit. I told him about the AA meetings, how I had to attend them as part of my treatment, and he said he could have me here in a couple of hours, and back in L.A. in plenty of time. He didn't tell you?”

“He didn't tell me,” Molly confirmed. “But I'm so glad you came.”

“Me, too. Wasn't sure how you'd react, after all that's happened. I told Keegan straight out that I was scared, and he said not to worry, he could handle you.”

Molly smiled. “Oh, he
did,
did he?”

Luke returned the smile. “And he can, can't he?”

“Yes,” Molly admitted.

“That's good,” Luke said. “Can you handle him?”

“I can,” Molly said.

“I'd like to come back,” Luke told her. “When I've got all ninety of those meetings under my belt.”

“I'd like that, too,” Molly answered.

Luke nodded as a car pulled up, in the crowded street in front of the church. Leaned in to kiss Molly's cheek.

“I've got one more question, Molly-girl. Do you love that man? I know he loves you.”

“I love him,” Molly confirmed softly.

“Good,” Luke said. He looked toward the waiting car. Turned back to Molly. “Love you this much,” he said, spreading his arms, the way he had when she was a little girl.

“Love you back,” Molly replied, on cue.

Luke stood, admired his grandson for a few moments, then bent to ruffle the boy's gleaming hair. He raised a hand to Molly, walked away toward the car.

The driver got out, opened the back door for him.

She watched mutely as the car pulled away.

Keegan rounded the bench from behind, sat down beside Molly.

“Thanks,” she said.

He put an arm around her shoulders. “Given what little I knew of Luke's history, I wasn't sure I was doing you a favor, bringing him here.”

“I love you, Keegan McKettrick,” Molly said, because she could. She could say it, right out loud, any time she wanted.

He kissed her temple. “When did you know?” he asked. “How you felt about me, I mean?”

“The day you told me I wouldn't have to marry you—that Psyche was going to let me raise Lucas either way.” She paused. “When did
you
know, Keegan?”

Keegan grinned. “When you tried to break up the fight behind the barn.”

“Can we go home now?”

He kissed her. “An excellent idea, Mrs. McKettrick,” he murmured. “Devon's spending the night at Cora's, with Maeve and Rianna.”

Molly looked down at her son.
Their
son. Lucas McKettrick.

Thank you, Psyche,
she thought.

“It scares me a little,” she confessed quietly, “being this happy.”

“Get used to it,” Keegan said, gripping her hand, raising it to run his lips lightly across her knuckles.

They watched as Emma and Rance came out of the community hall, next to the church, beaming with happiness. Emma was poised to fling her bouquet into the crowd of delighted spectators gathered at the bottom of the steps.

“Want to try and catch it?” Keegan asked.

“Nope,” Molly answered. “I've got my McKettrick man. No need to dive for any bridal bouquets.”

They watched as the bouquet soared and landed in Meg McKettrick's hands.

Jesse and Cheyenne emerged behind Emma and Rance.

Keegan's gaze followed Molly's, warmed. “Jesse's known for his luck,” he said. “Seeing those two together, it's easy to understand why.”

Touched, Molly looked on as Rance and his glowing bride passed beneath a shower of birdseed and goodwill. “What's Rance known for?” she asked.

“His pride,” Keegan said. “It almost ruined things for him and Emma, but he came to his senses in time, thank God.”

Molly met her husband's gaze. Held it firmly. “And you? What are
you
known for, Keegan?”

He sighed. Toyed with the locket shimmering against her collarbone. “Living in my head,” he said, “and keeping my heart closed up tight, like some old storage shed with a rusted padlock on the door. Until you came along, that is.”

Molly laid her hand on his chest, fingers splayed. Felt his heartbeat, strong and steady, beneath her palm. “Open for business?” she asked softly.

“Open for business,” Keegan said. “The party's breaking up, Mrs. McKettrick. Let's go home.”

“Let's do,” Molly said.

Leaving was a process—there were goodbyes to be said, congratulations to be offered. Lucas had to be buckled into his car seat, and there was something of a traffic jam in front of the church. Everybody in Indian Rock must have been invited to that wedding, and there were a lot of out-of-towners, too.

But finally, finally they drove back to the ranch house.

Molly changed Lucas's diaper in his room, then brought him down again to feed him his supper. Keegan, having put a pot of coffee on to brew first, passed her on the stairs. Returned minutes later, sans tuxedo, looking cowboy-handsome in his work clothes.

He bent as he passed Molly where she sat facing Lucas's high chair, kissed her on the mouth, Lucas on top of the head.

“I'll be back as soon as I get Spud and the horses in from the corral and settled for the night,” he said.

Molly nodded, unable to speak because of the knot of emotion in her throat.

Keegan went out.

She finished feeding Lucas, washed his face and hands, carried him upstairs again. He was already drifting off as she maneuvered him into his pajamas, gave him the stuffed donkey Devon had bought him as a present a few days before, after she and Keegan had driven to Flagstaff to get her things, tucked his blanket around him.

Molly stood over her boy, marveling, long after he'd gone to sleep.

When she heard the kitchen door close in the near distance, she shook off the spell she'd fallen under and went into Keegan's and her bedroom. Began undressing. She'd laid out jeans and a tank top, intending to go back downstairs and throw together something for supper, but then she looked up and saw Keegan framed in the doorway, watching her.

Molly stood naked, except for Keegan's locket, unable to move.

His gaze raked her bare flesh, raising goose bumps wherever it paused.

Sunset blazed at the window, and Molly knew she was framed in light. A strange sense of mystical beauty surrounded her heart and melted the last walls that held it prisoner.

Keegan moved slowly into the room, closed the door quietly behind him. Approached her and laid his hands on her breasts.

Molly caught her breath as he caressed her, unhurried, touching her almost reverently. She waited, trembling a little.

He bent his head, kissed the length of her shoulder. At the same time he slipped one of his hands boldly between her legs, parted her, played with her.

She bit down hard on her lower lip, stifling a whimper of need.

Keegan straightened, looked into her eyes, grinned slightly. He knew her so well—knew when she needed a tender taking, and when she needed something else.

He lowered her onto the bed, sideways. Knelt and draped her legs over his shoulders. Burrowed through the nest of moist curls at the apex of her thighs and took her into his mouth.

She convulsed once, clutching the bedcovers, determined not to make a sound.

Keegan chuckled against her, suckled again. Idly.

Molly moaned. So much for not making a sound.

He withdrew. Teased her mercilessly with his tongue.

“Keegan,” she pleaded, unable to keep his name inside her.

He slid his hands under her, raised her high off the bed and ravished her until the first orgasm seized her. As that one receded, another began to build, and then another.

When it was over, when he'd wrung the last ounce of tension from Molly's willing body, she watched, the aftershocks still echoing through her, as he stood and slowly removed his clothes.

Gathering her strength, she stretched languidly, moved to lie full length in the middle of the bed, feeling sated and sultry.

Keegan stretched out beside her, and she knew by the look smoldering in his blue eyes that he planned to let her rest for a few minutes, then take—no, possess—her. Molly craved that completion, but it just so happened that she had a few plans of her own.

She kissed him, feeling a rush of anticipation as he rolled from his side onto his back. She deepened the kiss, stroked him with her hand until his groan echoed in her mouth.

Smiling inside, Molly lifted her head. She reached for Keegan's hand, raised it slowly, fitted his fingers around one of the rails in the headboard.

His eyes widened.

Molly kissed him again.

And then she moved his other hand upward.

He could have resisted, of course—he was so much stronger than she was. Could certainly have lowered his hands. But he didn't. His fingers tightened around the rails.

Molly nuzzled his neck with her nose, nibbled at his earlobe.

“Hang on tight, cowboy,” she crooned. “Wild ride ahead.”

Powerful as he was, physically and in every other way, Keegan trembled. Groaned as Molly kissed her way down over his shoulder, the center of his chest, his belly.

He rasped her name.

She took him.

He tensed, sucked in a hard breath.

In the slow, lingering minutes that followed, Molly paid Keegan back for every time he'd teased her, every time he'd brought her to the brink of ecstasy and then made her wait.

And when the low, lusty cry of release finally came, it was Keegan's.

S
HE LAY ASLEEP
, the little vixen, a smile still curving her lips.

Watching her, Keegan marveled at all he felt.

Her hair spread across the pillows, gleaming even in the thin light of the summer moon. He laid a hand on her lower belly, lightly, not wanting to awaken her.

Not yet, anyway.

She stirred a little, sighed softly in her sleep. The heart locket caught a flash of moonlight, and Keegan's own heart caught that glimmer, and opened itself wide.

Molly had broken in, gotten past all the barriers he'd erected so carefully over the years. Opened his heart and made herself at home inside.

At first it had been a painful invasion. He'd wanted to drive her out.

He'd been raw in so many ways. Losing his folks. His first marriage, and the constant ache of being separated from Devon so much of the time. The transition from stuffed shirt to rancher.

And then there was Psyche.

All these years he'd believed he'd loved Psyche. He'd truly believed it, and he'd grieved the loss of her long before she died.

Now he realized he hadn't known what love was until Molly had nudged him with the toe of one shoe, out there behind the barn when he and Jesse and Rance had tangled that day.

You're going to look terrible in the wedding pictures.

He grinned at the memory.

Across the hall, Lucas let out an uncertain wail.

Keegan got off the bed, pulled on his jeans, fastened them and crept out.

The boy stood in his crib, gripping the rails and sniffling.

“Hey, buddy,” Keegan said, lifting Lucas into his arms. He was soaked, so Keegan grabbed up a fresh diaper as he carried him over to the changing table.

“Did you have a bad dream?”

Lucas hiccuped while Keegan swapped the wet diaper for a dry one. After using a baby wipe to wash his hands, Keegan looked in on Devon, who was sleeping soundly, then carried Lucas back into the bedroom where Molly slept.

He sat down in the old rocking chair, holding the boy, now bundled in his favorite blanket, and thought about the results of the DNA tests. Biologically, Devon was a half sister to Lucas—he and Molly had agreed to keep that knowledge to themselves, at least until both children were old enough to understand.

“Everything's going to be okay, buckaroo,” he told the baby.

Lucas shivered, then settled against his chest. Stuck a thumb and half his little fist into his mouth.

Keegan rocked, thinking of all the McKettricks that had gone before, and all that would come after. He was content with his place in that long line of lucky, proud, hard-loving men and women.

Molly stirred. Sat up partway in the tangle of covers on their bed. “Keegan?”

“Go back to sleep,” he said gently.

She sighed and sank into the pillows, spent.