Second Chance Cowboy (13 page)

Patrick wanted to kiss away her pain, tell her everything would be all right. Instead, he kissed her eyes, kissing away the tears that had gathered in the corners. He kissed her cheek, continuing his trail down to her mouth. When he reached her lips, he stopped. “We may not have anything, but we’re alive.”

His lips lowered hungrily onto hers, and he kissed her with a desperate fervor. Greedily, he drank from her sweetness, heady with the realization that they were alive. His hands pulled her body in close, pressing her against his arousal. Frustrated at the clothing that barred him from her flesh, he ached to rip her clothes from her body ... to feast his eyes upon her flesh.

Realizing he was quickly losing control, he broke off the kiss. “The storm is over. We need to head back to camp before dark.”

She was vulnerable. He was vulnerable, and they didn’t need to spend any more time alone than necessary. One signal from Sabrina and he would be on top of her like a bee on honey.

Sabrina nodded, her mood strangely quiet.

Once outside the cabin, Patrick lifted her up in the saddle and then climbed up behind her. This time when they left the line shack, they rode peacefully, watching the rainbow that symbolized the end of the storm, the beginning of hope. Somehow Patrick felt a new peace within himself. Life was too short to waste worrying about the past. Maybe it was time he looked toward the future. His future—and Sabrina’s.

Somehow their relationship had changed in one short afternoon. No words had been spoken, but an instinctive communication had taken place that needed no articulation. The storm had cleared the air, not only externally but internally.

A cool rain-scented breeze blew gently from the north, sending a chill through Patrick. Leaning against his chest, Sabrina huddled, seeking his warmth. An internal fire warmed Patrick, from the top of his head all the way to his toes, building an ache that centered in his lower gut. An ache that only one woman could ignite.

They had traveled less than half a mile when they came to the stream they had crossed during the storm. Gone was the gentle flowing brook, and in its place a raging river now flowed before them. Trees and branches hastened downstream past Sabrina and Patrick as they watched the water rush by.

“I don’t think we’re going back across that tonight,” Patrick said as the sun sank low in the western sky, making its final appearance of the day.

“But what about the others, Patrick? What about our cattle? We need to get back,” she said anxiously.

“We have no choice but to wait until tomorrow. Not much we could do for them tonight anyway.”

“Where will we spend the night?” Sabrina questioned.

Patrick leaned forward, resting his cheek against her cheek in an intimate move. His blood quickened at the thought of being alone with Sabrina for one night. “What if we go back to that line shack?”

“What else can we do?” Sabrina replied breathlessly.

W
hile Patrick took
care of the horse, Sabrina found firewood someone had left in the little cabin and started a fire. Flames licked greedily at the dry wood, chasing the chill from the air.

Sabrina sat on the hard ground, feeling low and tired. She sat and worried about Buckets, the crew, and her cattle.

Patrick disappeared and returned carrying his saddle and saddlebags. He laid his rifle down and unbuckled the holster holding his six-shooter, setting the guns within close reach.

“You don’t seem worried about the others or our cattle,” she said in hurt disbelief.

Patrick sighed. “I’m concerned, but right now we have to take care of us. We can’t help the others until tomorrow.” He paused, his gold eyes studying her. “You’re half in shock and shivering from cold.”

Opening the pockets of his saddlebags, he retrieved two blankets, a coffee pot, and some beef jerky. “Dry clothes, coffee, and dinner,” he laughed wryly, his voice echoing inside the shelter.

Sabrina wasn’t interested in dinner as she gazed at Patrick. His wet clothes clung to him, the muscles in his arms and back clearly outlined by the plastered, wet material of his shirt. The bandage that had been tied around his head was gone, leaving his wound visible. Only a week had passed since the shooting, though it seemed another lifetime. The wound had scabbed over, but a scar would run along the length of Patrick’s temple.

His golden brown eyes met and held hers. Sabrina watched his gaze take in her drenched clothing, lingering on her breasts. Her clothes clung as much as his, and there was little left for his imagination. She could feel his eyes lingering on the outline of her breasts, causing a tingling sensation in her nipples.

He glanced away, breaking the spell. “You need to get out of those wet clothes.” He handed her a blanket. “Change out of them and wrap this around you.”

He wanted her to cover herself with a mere blanket? After the way he’d kissed her this afternoon, after the way he’d touched her in the chuck wagon, after the way he’d looked at her in the river? Apprehension flowed through Sabrina. She shook her head. “The heat of the fire will dry them out.”

Patrick frowned, his eyebrows drawing together in a scowl. “Like hell. It’ll take all night for those clothes to dry. Go change.”

“Really, I’m fine.” Dressed in only a blanket, Sabrina was fearful of what could happen if he kissed her again as he’d kissed her earlier. A scant blanket wouldn’t be enough protection from herself or him.

“If you don’t, I’ll help you,” he informed her. Sabrina felt a blush creep along her face and down her neck. She had no doubts that he would do exactly what he said, and she was too emotionally drained to fight him. “Overbearing brute.”

Patrick grinned. “That’s my job. I’ll step outside while you.... undress.”

Neither inside nor out provided much privacy. Yet they were miles from civilization and darkness surrounded her, except for the glow from the fire. Sabrina peeled off her wet clothing. She was soaked all the way to her skin and the warm heat from the fire dried the moisture from her body. From outside, she heard Patrick call, “All of it, Sabrina.”

“Damn,” she whispered.

The sounds of cicadas filled the night air as they sang their lonely song. A rustling noise came from a corner of the cabin, giving her reason to hurry. Quickly, she finished undressing, wrapping the blanket around her, tucking the edge of the blanket between her breasts, leaving her exposed, vulnerable.

Patrick reentered the cabin and stopped. His gaze zeroed in on her instantly. The gold flecks in his eyes sparkled with instant heat. Sabrina had seen that look, usually right before he kissed her. She took a step back. The depths of his eyes stripped the blanket from her body and exposed her nakedness.

Self-conscious about her exposed state, Sabrina felt herself blush from the roots of her hair to the tips of her toes. “I think I’d better put my clothes back on.”

He turned his attention to the fire and started preparing coffee. “And catch pneumonia? I don’t think so.” He filled the coffee pot with water from his canteen. “You don’t have to worry. I won’t touch you, not unless you want me to.”

Sabrina felt her cheeks blooming even redder than before. She whispered, “But I’m afraid I will.” Patrick’s head jerked up, his eyes boldly meeting hers.

“Do you want me to touch you?”

“I . . . like it” Sabrina cringed. How bold and brazen, telling him how he made her feel, when tonight all she felt was raw, needy. The feelings frightened her.

He dropped his gaze, his face tight and closed. He put the small pot on the fire. “I’m going to change.” He strode out, leaving a bewildered Sabrina staring at the fire. With both of them wearing nothing but a blanket, all alone with a blazing fire, the cabin had become a powder keg. One spark could cause an explosion that would blow off the top of this shelter. Patrick held the flame; Sabrina was the fuse.

Patrick came back, his blanket tied around his waist. Sabrina felt her heart slam into her throat as she stared at his bare chest gleaming in the firelight. The man was gorgeous. Golden curls sprinkled across his chest until they formed a V, disappearing beneath the blanket. Sabrina swallowed and tried to calm her beating heart. A sweet curling sensation formed in the pit of her stomach. For the first time in her adult life, she admitted the overpowering need to be loved physically.

Today she had faced death, could possibly have lost friends and cattle, and eventually she could lose her home. She needed the feel of this man’s arms around her, holding her, comforting her, reassuring her that she lived.

But would he welcome the feel of her arms? Sabrina dropped her gaze and stammered. “I think the coffee’s almost ready.”

He reached in his saddlebags. His voice seemed to have lowered several octaves in the last five minutes. “There’s only one cup. We’ll have to share.”

He dropped down beside Sabrina and pulled out a small bottle of whiskey. “Take a sip of this. It will help you relax and sleep.”

Patrick poured a small amount into the tin cup and handed it to Sabrina. His fingers lightly brushed hers and goose bumps suddenly appeared on her arms.

“Are you cold?” Patrick asked.

“No,” Sabrina responded much too quickly.

Never before had she tasted hard liquor. Gingerly, she put the cup to her lips and choked as the warm, fiery liquid slammed its way down her throat. Heat spread throughout her body. She watched the hard muscles in Patrick’s chest contract as he reached for the cup. Warmth flowed from the lower half of her body, spreading like wildfire.

“That’s awful.” Sabrina licked her lips, and tried to concentrate on anything other than the sight of Patrick’s near-naked body.

Patrick chuckled and poured himself a small amount. In one long swallow, he drank it down. “Now for our supper.”

He handed Sabrina a stick of beef jerky. She watched him raise the stick to his mouth—the mouth that brought her both pleasure and pain when he kissed her.

Outside, the stars blinked in the clear night sky with no visible sign of the storm. Inside, the fire crackled and popped; the shadow of the flames danced erotically against the walls of the cabin. Sabrina felt the whiskey relaxing her, easing tension from her tired body. Her stomach hungrily accepted the beef jerky as if it were a four-course meal.

Patrick poured a cup of coffee and handed Sabrina the tin cup. Gently, she put her lips to the metal surface, tasting the hot brew. Bitter coffee seared its way down her throat, chasing the chill from her rain-soaked body. As she handed the cup back to Patrick, their fingers touched briefly. A current of desire passed between them, sending shock waves down Sabrina’s arm.

At the jolt, Sabrina raised her eyes and was captivated by golden eyes reflecting the firelight. Her breath caught in her throat as a rush of passion stunned her with its sudden intensity.

Sabrina watched Patrick raise the tin cup to his lips and test the hot liquid. She had never known drinking from a cup could be so stimulating, so intimate. It felt as though the cup had become a symbol, a sharing. A delicious shiver of pleasure ran through her body.

“Why do you keep shivering? Are you sure you’re not cold?” Patrick asked quietly.

“No, I . . .” Sabrina could not find the words to describe the feelings she felt enveloping her. She was frightened; her body ached for him, yet her intellect was sending warning bells.

“Come here. Let me warm you,” Patrick said huskily.

Sabrina felt dark currents of desire leaping between them. Yet she could no more deny herself the pleasure of being in his arms than she could deny her next breath. She craved the contact of this man. They had shared more experiences than many people shared in a lifetime. She scooted over and Patrick pulled her in between his legs.

He enveloped her in his arms, cradling her close to his body. Her half-naked back rubbed against his chest; his hair softly nuzzled her. She felt protected, secure, a feeling she had lost with the death of her father. He cradled her head on his shoulder; his cheek rested against her cheek.

His deep voice caressed her, touching her intimately. “Today, when I saw that cloud coming right at us, I thought we were going to die.” Patrick paused. “At first I was angry. I wasn’t ready to die. Then it occurred to me, at least we were together.”

He kissed her softly on the cheek. “Then later this afternoon, it dawned on me. I’ve made the past too important. The only thing that really matters is now, this moment. Not yesterday or tomorrow, but now.” Sabrina turned in his arms, her eyes wide with wonder.

“No, Patrick. You were right to feel the way you did. I should have at least listened to you.” Sabrina paused, fearful of ending their peaceful mood. “Deep down I knew you could be right about Matt, but I couldn’t face the possibility. I didn’t want my brother to hang.”

Patrick squeezed her tightly. “I didn’t want him to hang either, but I wanted the truth.”

“Why do people hurt each other so much?”

“I don’t know, Sabrina, but I don’t want to ever hurt you again,” he whispered.

She shuddered as his lips kissed her bare shoulder. He brushed her hair aside with his hand, his lips leaving a trail across her back and up the side of her neck.

Sabrina leaned against him, wanting his lips on hers. She twisted in his arms until she found the mouth that was making her sizzle. Gingerly, she traced the outline of his lips with her tongue, tasting the heady mixture of whiskey and coffee. Patrick moaned a deep, husky sound and crushed his mouth beneath hers, sending desire pulsing through her blood. Heat suffused her and she wanted to push away the confining blanket. Her heart pounded in her chest and her center felt as though it were on fire. She needed him, now. Tonight.

She broke away from the drugging effect of his lips and gazed into his passion-darkened eyes. He’d said he wouldn’t touch her unless she wanted him to, and God, she wanted him to. This was a man who kept his word, who wouldn’t touch her until she gave him permission. Right now, she’d almost beg him.

“Make love to me, Patrick. Please.” She bowed her head and leaned into his chest.

Patrick felt as if the wind had been knocked out of him. He lifted her chin and gazed into eyes that had turned a dark, stormy blue, filled with passion. He craved her as a gold miner craved gold, as a plant needed water, as the earth needed the sky. They were alive; they were together, and maybe today’s twister had been God’s warning they were wasting time.