To Wed and Protect (6 page)

Luke looked at his oldest brother in surprise. Matthew was always efficient, in control and on top of things. Of the four, Matthew had been the one who had pushed the hardest for them to fulfill their father's will stipulations so they wouldn't lose the ranch. The idea that Matthew's eagerness to hold on to the family ranch might be waning was disconcerting.

They had to hold on to things for another few months…until the terms of the will had been met. After that, it didn't matter.

“I'm heading upstairs. Lock up when you leave,” Matthew said.

Luke nodded and watched as his brother disappeared out the door. Luke finished his sandwich, then placed his dish in the dishwasher and checked his watch. Quarter to eight. Time for him to get to Abby's.

As he drove to her house, he told himself Matthew had just had a rough day. There was no way Matthew would encourage them to forget their father's will and the family ranch. Matthew was the son most like his father, and like Adam Delaney, Matthew believed the ranch was the most important thing on the face of the earth.

He pulled into Abby's place and shoved aside thoughts of his brother. Although Luke could definitely use the money that would come from the ranch if they retained control, he really didn't care if they defaulted and lost it.

He'd just raised his hand to knock on Abby's back door when it swung open. As always, at the sight of her, an electric charge shot through him. “I'm back.”

“So, you are and right on time,” she said.

“I just figured I'd tell you I was here so you wouldn't be frightened when you hear somebody out front. Could you turn on the front porch light for me? Then I'll just get to work,” he said and started to turn away.

“Oh, no, you don't,” she said, stopping him in his tracks. “What is it you've figured out I need in my life?”

He grinned. “I'm not ready to tell you yet. Maybe after I finish setting the posts.”

“I'm going to hold you to it,” she exclaimed.

He grinned, then turned and left. By the time he reached the front of the house the front light was shining on the space where there was now no porch.

He'd dug the holes for the posts earlier in the day, and it didn't take him too long to mix the concrete, then set the posts into the holes. In the arid heat of the night, they would set up quickly, and by morning he should be able to start constructing the new porch.

He'd finished setting the last post then walked to the back door, surprised to find Abby seated on the stoop and gazing at the stars.

“Stargazing?” He sat next to her on the stoop and instantly caught a whiff of her evocative perfume.

“Yes. I can't seem to get enough of the stars out here. They all look so much closer, so much bigger and brighter.”

“That's because they are tools the cowboys use.”

She eyed him ruefully. “Let me guess. Cowboys use the stars to seduce young women.”

He laughed. “You brought it up this time, I didn't. I was going to say that the cowboys used to use the stars for direction.”

“I'm impressed,” she said with a teasing tone.

“You can talk about things other than charming women.”

He smiled. “Where are the munchkins?”

“In bed. I tucked them in about an hour ago. Apparently the first day of school was rather exhausting. Neither of them gave me a bedtime argument.”

“I wouldn't give you a bedtime argument, either,” he said, unable to help himself.

“You're terrible,” she replied, and he knew the color of her cheeks had deepened to a bewitching pink.

“That's not true,” he countered. “I've been told I'm very good.”

She laughed and shook her head, causing her hair to dance like a silken waterfall around her slender shoulders. Luke liked the sound of her laughter and guessed that she probably hadn't had much laughter in her life the past year.

“Okay, I said I'd tell you what I think you need in your life,” he said.

“And what might that be?” she asked cautiously.

“Just some good, old-fashioned fun.”

Her gaze held his for a long moment, and in the depths of her beautiful, soft green eyes he saw he had touched a vulnerable area.

He fought the impulse to throw his arm over her
shoulder, pull her tight against his side. He was afraid he might spook her by moving too fast.

“I get the feeling that there hasn't been much fun in your life for the past year,” he finally said.

“That's true,” she agreed softly, her eyes holding a wistful yearning.

“You should come down to the Honky Tonk some night,” he said.

“To watch you perform?” she asked.

“Nah. You need to come in and kick up your heels, do a little boot-scoot boogie.”

She laughed. “I don't know how to do a boot-scoot boogie. In fact, I can't remember the last time I danced.”

“You're kidding. Your husband didn't take you out dancing?”

She broke eye contact with him and once again gazed at the star-studded skies. “No, he never took me dancing.”

Luke stared at her in amazement. If he had a wife who looked like her, he'd take her dancing every chance he got just for the opportunity of holding her close and swaying in rhythm to whatever music played. Her husband must have been a fool.

Luke wasn't a fool. Before he could stop himself, he stood, grabbed her hand and pulled her off the stoop and into his arms in a traditional dance position. “Ever danced with a cowboy carpenter beneath a starlit sky?”

“Never,” she replied, her voice slightly husky.

“Then you're about to experience one of life's little
joys.” And with these words, he whirled her around, tightening his grip on her waist as they spun.

She held herself rigid and unyielding for a few moments, but when he didn't try to pull her tightly against him, he felt her relaxing by degrees.

As he hummed a familiar ballad, she continued to become more fluid, stepping and swaying with him as a night breeze danced in her hair and the moonlight kissed her features. And as he felt the rigidity leaving her, he pulled her closer…closer…and closer still.

Finally she was where he wanted her, so close her thighs pressed against his and her breasts snuggled against his chest. Her warm breath fanned his collarbone, producing a heat inside him that had nothing to do with the warmth of the night air that surrounded them.

Suddenly they weren't dancing anymore. They stood in the embrace, and when she turned her face to look at him, the tune he'd been humming died on his lips.

Just a whisper of invitation lit her eyes as her mouth parted slightly. It was all the invitation Luke needed. He captured her mouth with his, stealing a kiss that was freely given.

Her instantaneous response surprised and enflamed him. He'd intended for the kiss to be a light, sweet gesture, but her mouth was too hot, too hungry, and stirred a wild hunger inside him.

He dipped his tongue into her mouth, at the same time pressing his hand into the small of her back. Her tongue met his, deepening the kiss to explosive heights.

She moaned deep in the back of her throat and lifted her arms, wrapping them around his neck as their bodies pressed more tightly against each other.

A scream shattered the moment, a scream of such childish terror, it raised the hairs on the nape of Luke's neck. “What the hell?” he exclaimed as a new source of adrenaline shot through him.

Abby whirled out of his arms and raced up the steps to the back door. “It's Jason,” she said and disappeared into the house.

The scream came again, high-pitched and frantic. Luke hurried into the house and down the hallway to the little boy's room.

He stepped into the doorway to see Abby trying to control a flailing, fighting Jason. It was obvious the little boy was still asleep, but that didn't stop his churning arms and legs. As Luke stood hesitantly, he saw one of Jason's elbows crash into Abby's chin. He took a step forward, intent on helping her, but she stopped him.

“Please…just go,” she said, her eyes begging him to comply. Still he hesitated, wanting to help. “For God's sake, Luke. Leave,” she said more forcefully.

“We'll talk tomorrow.”

As she focused her attention on the flailing child, Luke hesitated another moment, then complied with her wishes. He left the bedroom and went down the hallway toward the door. The childish screams had stopped, but he could hear Jason sobbing. They were deep, rending sobs that tore at Luke. And beneath the sobs he could hear Abby's soft, soothing voice.

Luke stepped onto the back stoop and drew a deep,
unsteady breath, allowing the momentary burst of adrenaline to slide away. The transformation from desire to panic had been abrupt, and the result was confusion.

He suspected he knew the source of Abby's black eye and the bruise on her arm. In trying to soothe Jason, she apparently became a battle-scarred warrior.

He got into his truck, his thoughts whirling. It was obvious Jason had been suffering a horrendous nightmare. What could a little boy possibly dream about that would cause such obvious terror?

A little boy who had nightmares, a little girl who didn't talk and a woman whose kiss had shot wildfire through his veins. Luke had a feeling if he didn't take care, he'd be in way over his head with this woman and her children.

S
leep was a long time coming for Abby after she finally got Jason settled into a peaceful sleep. She undressed and got ready for bed, but her thoughts whirled chaotically.

She'd hoped that in settling here, in building a home and establishing some semblance of normalcy, Jason's nightmares would finally stop.

She knew they'd only been here a little over a week, and she was probably expecting way too much, way too soon. But she couldn't help the deep depression the little boy's latest nightmare had instilled in her.

How long would he suffer the remnants of that night? Somehow she had to figure out a way to heal the two children who had been left in her care by the sister she'd loved and lost.

Sliding between the sheets, she knew she needed to seek professional help for the kids. They had been
seeing a therapist before they'd left Kansas City, and on their last visit, the therapist had told Abby she thought a physical move from the city would do as much to heal the kids as anything.

But Jessica was still not talking, and Jason was still having horrendous nightmares. No healing appeared to be taking place.

She had a feeling finding a good therapist who specialized in traumatized children would be impossible in the small town of Inferno. She'd need to go to Tucson or another big city to find them help.

Too tired to think about it anymore, she closed her eyes, and instantly a vision of Luke filled her mind. Luke, with the moonlight stroking his bold, handsome features. Luke, his lips curved in a smile as he hummed and twirled her around in his arms.

For one sweet moment, the cares of the world had fallen from her shoulders and she'd felt young and desirable and carefree. And then there was the kiss. The kiss.

She pushed the sheet aside. Heat swirled through her as she remembered the hunger, the fire, the utter desire that she'd not only tasted in his kiss, but had felt inside herself as she'd responded to him.

Abby was no virgin—she'd been engaged to be married before the crime that had destroyed her world. But none of Ken's kisses, none of his caresses had ever stirred her like Luke's kiss had done.

When he'd stood in Jason's doorway and seen her struggling with the frantic little boy, she'd seen his desire to help in his eyes, and that had been nearly as
powerful as his kiss in managing to creep in beneath her defenses.

She closed her eyes, too tired to think about any of it tonight. Tomorrow she would get on the phone and try to find a therapist for the kids. Tomorrow she would figure out exactly how much she was going to tell Luke about Jason's nightmares. She was going to have to decide if it was safe to divulge any of her secrets to Luke Delaney.

Morning brought few answers. She had just put the kids on the school bus when Luke's familiar pickup approached.

She stood in the front yard as he pulled up and got out of the truck, looking as handsome, as strong and masculine as she'd ever seen him. “Hi,” she greeted him as he strode toward her.

“Hi, yourself,” he returned easily. “You look tired.”

“I am,” she admitted. “It was kind of a long night.”

He stepped next to her, the gray of his eyes soft and his smile gentle. “I wanted to help but didn't know how.” He threw an arm around her shoulder. “You got the coffee on?”

She nodded, fighting the impulse to lean into him, to spill the events that had shaped her life for the past year, to share the pain that radiated inside her and she feared would always exist inside her.

Together they went into the house and to the kitchen, where Luke gestured her into a chair at the table while he took it upon himself to pour them some coffee.

“I guess I owe you some sort of an explanation,” she said when he was seated at the table next to her.

“You don't owe me anything,” he countered with the same gentleness of tone, the gentleness that reached inside her and stroked a tiny piece of her pain.

“It's obvious from what I saw last night that your son suffers terrible nightmares or night terrors.”

“He's not my son.” Horror swept through her as she realized she'd spoken the words aloud.

Luke's eyes widened. “Excuse me? But they call you Mom and you introduced them as your kids.”

Abby wrapped her hands around her coffee cup, recognizing that this was the moment she had to decide if she could trust Luke or not. She quickly decided she would trust him with some of the truth. “Jason isn't my son, and Jessica isn't my daughter. They are my nephew and niece.”

“Your sister's kids?”

Abby nodded. “I took custody of them when their mother was murdered.”

Again Luke's eyes widened. “Murdered?”

Emotion rose inside Abby, a wave she felt helpless to fight against. She nodded again, then took a sip of coffee in an attempt to steady herself. “In order for you to understand, I guess I need to start at the beginning.” She frowned, wondering if she knew what had been the beginning.

“My sister, Loretta, was married to a man named Justin Cahill. Neither my parents nor I particularly liked Justin. He was a braggart and never held down a job. He was verbally abusive to her and the kids.
But Loretta seemed to love him so we all tried our best to make him part of our family.”

She drew a deep breath and stared into her coffee mug. “A month before her murder, I realized Justin was being more than verbally abusive to her, and I convinced her the best thing to do was divorce him. I helped her find a little apartment, and she and the kids moved into it. Three weeks later Justin came to the apartment and beat her to death. Jessica and Jason were in the apartment when it happened.”

“Oh, God, I'm so sorry.” His hand instantly sought hers in a warm grip of comfort. “And that's why Jason has nightmares.” It was more a statement than a question.

“Actually, what he's doing is replaying that night in his dreams. And, according to the therapist Jason was seeing before we moved, in his sleep he tries to fight with his father to save his mother's life.”

“That poor kid,” Luke said, and she heard the wealth of sympathy in his voice as his hand tightened around hers. “Jessica stopped talking at the same time?”

“Yes. That night the police removed the kids from the apartment and brought them to me. Jessica told me about how her daddy had hurt her mommy, and that's the last time Jessica said anything to anyone except Jason.”

She cleared her throat. “Anyway, so now you know the explanation for Jason's nightmares.” But there was a wealth of information she hadn't given him, like the small fact that she didn't have legal authority to
have the children in her custody and that they were on the run from Justin…and possibly the law.

“So why the story of you being a widow? Are you or were you married?”

“No.” Abby pulled her hand from his and once again wrapped both hands around her coffee mug.

“I'm not, nor have I ever been married. I made up that story so we wouldn't have to explain to people what had happened. I thought it would make things easier on the children. It was Jason's idea to call me Mom. He said I would be his mom on earth, but we always talk about their mother in heaven.” Her voice cracked on the last sentence, and she drew a deep breath to steady herself.

He nodded, his eyes curiously opaque. “That it makes things easier on the children is the best reason to tell a lie. What about their father? Where is he?”

“Nobody knows. Apparently he's disappeared off the face of the earth, and that's just fine with me.” But Abby knew Justin was looking for them, hunting them down like prey. And she hoped he never, ever found them.

“When you told me you'd had a rough year, you weren't kidding. How are you holding up beneath all this?”

She looked away from him, unable to see the compassion in his eyes and not fall apart. “My sister was my best friend. It was me who encouraged her to leave Justin in the first place.” She fought against a wave of killing guilt. “But I'm all right. I'm strong.”

She drew a breath and squared her shoulders. “I have to be for the kids. They're the ones I worry about.
They have to live not only with the memory of that terrible night, but also with the knowledge that their father is a bad man.”

Luke leaned back in his chair. “Kids are fairly resilient, and I'm a perfect example that kids can grow up and eventually deal with the fact that their father is a bad man.”

“But your father didn't kill your mother,” she replied.

“That's true,” he agreed easily. “But there were times I thought sure he was going to kill one of my brothers, or my sister, or me.”

“He was really that mean?” she asked even though she could tell by his somber expression and the heavy tone of voice that he wasn't exaggerating.

“I thought he was the devil.”

“How did you survive?”

He shrugged. “We just did.” This time it was his turn to take a sip of his coffee before continuing. “Actually, the four of us all had our own way of coping with Father. Matthew was the good son who never broke the rules and worked from sunup to sundown with the single goal of pleasing the old man. Mark became invisible, never talking, trying to blend into the woodwork so he wouldn't do anything to upset the old man.”

He took another sip of his coffee and grinned. “Johnna, on the other hand, did just the opposite. She met my father with rebellion and rage and kept him stirred up most of the time.”

“And what about you?” Abby asked.

“Me? I learned how to sing. It was the one thing I
did that pleased the old man. My dad used to play George Reeves records when we were growing up. By the time I was six I knew all the words to all the songs. One day my dad heard me singing in my room, and he called me down to his study and demanded I sing for him.”

He drew a deep breath, and Abby saw the pain of memories cross his features. She reached for his hand, as he had done to her earlier. His hand was cool, as if the force of these memories had stolen all his body heat.

“I went down to the study, knowing that if he didn't like my singing he'd smack me or take off his belt and whack me. I was so scared that while I sang for him, I wet my pants.”

“Oh, Luke.” All thoughts of Abby's problems and worries fell aside as she grieved for the little boy who had sung for a monster and been so afraid he'd wet his pants.

Emotion swam in the air, inside her, a depth of emotion for him and for the children she now claimed as her own.

She released his hand only long enough to leave her chair, and as she stood, he did, as well. Together they met in an embrace. His arms wrapped around her, and she allowed herself to accept the comfort, the warmth and the strength she found there.

Leaning her head against his broad chest, she could hear the pounding of his heart. “Your kids will be okay, Abby,” he said softly. “They're lucky to have you. With your love and support they're going to be just fine.”

She'd hungered to hear those words from anyone, and for a moment her fears about the kids were soothed. She lifted her head from his chest and looked at him. She'd meant to thank him, to say how much his words meant to her, but the moment she saw the fire in his eyes, anything she might have meant to say left her mind.

His lips crashed down on hers and instantly Abby knew she was going to make love with him. Not tomorrow. Not next week. Today, at this moment, while they had the house to themselves and their depth of emotion had been transformed into lust.

She wanted to be held, heartbeat to heartbeat, skin against skin. She needed to lose herself in the flames that lit his eyes and scorched her lips as his kiss sent electric currents racing through her.

Luke didn't have to be the right man in her life to be the right man at this moment. She gave herself to him, pressing against him with need, meeting his tongue with her own, stoking the flames of desire between them until they were totally out of control.

 

Making love to Abby had been the last thing in Luke's mind when he'd reached out to her. He'd been shocked by the information she'd shared with him, and equally shocked by how candid he'd been with her about his past with his father.

But holding her, feeling her soft curves against him as her sweet scent filled his head, desire had unexpectedly awakened.

When her lips met his with the same intense fever coupled with a yielding surrender, he was lost…lost
despite the fact he knew they were moving too quickly and on the wave of heightened emotions.

He finally pulled his mouth from hers. He stared at her, and in her eyes he saw a hunger that matched his own. “Abby.” He knew one of them needed to take control of the situation before it spun crazily out of control.

“Shh.” She pressed two fingers to his lips then took his hand in hers and led him out of the kitchen. “Don't stop this, Luke. It's what you want, and for right now it's what I want.”

As she pulled him down the hallway toward her bedroom, Luke's heart boomed rapidly. He'd wanted her from the first minute he'd laid eyes on her, and that desire had grown with each and every moment he'd spent in her company.

The morning sunlight streamed into her bedroom window, and he noticed that her room had been transformed since last time he'd peeked into it. The bed was neatly made with a bedspread that was a splash of yellow sunflowers.

Where before there had been a stack of boxes in the corner, there were now only two waiting to be unpacked.

He scarcely had time to take all this in before his attention returned to Abby, who stood next to the bed. As he watched her, she pulled her T-shirt over her head.

His breath caught in his chest at the sight of her. Clad in her jeans and a wispy, pale pink bra, she appeared fragile and more vulnerable than before. But the glow in her eyes as she unfastened her jeans and
slid them down her slender legs was anything but vulnerable.