Whirlwind Wedding (17 page)

“He still didn't miss a shot.”

“Only by luck.” His jaw tightened. “He was plenty distracted.”

She rolled her eyes. “By what? You had his undivided attention.”

“He wasn't performing for me, Catherine,” Jericho said evenly. Restless energy surged through him.

“Are you saying for me?” She threw him a quick look and laughed.

“He couldn't take his eyes off you.”
Just like I couldn't.
He and Ryan had both been too concerned with her.

The admission twisted in his gut and he knew it was because she had noticed the other man. Seemingly enjoyed his company. As she had every right to, he reminded himself ruthlessly.

She waved a dismissive hand. “He did nothing untoward.”

“It's a good thing,” Jericho grumbled. This conversation scraped at his nerves.

“He has experience. He's been in the Army for some time. He fought Indians and um, other things.”

Her admiration of the man ripped at Jericho's restraint. “I've had more experience with the McDougals.”

“Still, why wouldn't you think he could protect me? He seems more than qualified, and Dr. Butler trusts—”

“Because he's not me,” he said baldly, meeting her gaze straight on.

Her mouth dropped open and whatever she'd been about to say died on the wind. She dragged on the reins, stopping the wagon.

Jericho wished he could cut out his tongue.

Shy pleasure heated her eyes as her gaze drifted to his mouth.

He was not going to touch her. No.

“I don't understand. If you—”

“Don't misread me, Catherine.” He had to force the words out.

“
You
said you wanted to protect me,” she reminded quietly.

“Only because I've seen firsthand what those outlaws can do.” He couldn't bear the light in her eyes, the warmth in her voice. He made himself go on. “I won't take any chances that something might happen. My instincts said go, so I went.”

“And that's the only reason?”

Hell, no. Every cell in his body strained for her, but his head knew better. He'd been on the McDougals' trail too long to allow any vulnerabilities now. “It's part of my job to provide protection to citizens.”

“Oh.” Her voice was small, but her eyes flashed. She snapped the reins against the horse's rump and the wagon lurched into motion.

He gripped the seat, clenching his jaw against the stab of pain that radiated up his leg.

“I guess it's good that you trust Davis Lee then,” she said mildly. “Since he'll be taking me to the fort from now on.”

Over my dead body.
But Jericho didn't say the words. Didn't haul her to him and kiss her until she forgot every name but his.

Her blue eyes met his, full of challenge.
Tell me you hate the thought of me going with Davis Lee.

But he couldn't. He wouldn't.

They reached the house in silence and Catherine positioned the wagon with his side against the porch. As she put her foot on the wagon step, he reached for her elbow to steady her, but she brushed off his touch.

She withdrew into herself, aloof and reserved, reminding him that she'd done the same that day in the barn when he'd sent her away. He rubbed a hand across his chest, which was aching dully.

She went around the back of the wagon, stepped up on the porch and reached for his arm expectantly. As he maneuvered himself out of the seat, she gripped his bicep to steady him, but as soon as he stood on solid ground, her hand fell away.

“I'll unhitch the horse and go after Andrew.” Taking the sorrel's bridle, she disappeared around the house.

Jericho cursed. He could tell himself up and down that he had gone to the fort with her only because he wanted to protect her, but it wasn't the whole truth. He hadn't wanted her to be alone with that sergeant any more than he had wanted her to be alone with Davis Lee.

 

She had made a perfect fool of herself. Why had she let him see her reaction to his blunt announcement?
Stunned
was the only word to describe her emotions when he'd told her he had gone to the fort because he didn't trust anyone else to protect her. For one heady moment she had thought that meant
something. That maybe he thought about her as often as she thought of him. That he wanted to kiss her as much as she wanted him to.

Idiot.
She sighed. He didn't want her to believe more existed between them than actually did. One kiss. That was all.

But her body felt more; her heart certainly did. Maybe she didn't have the skill he preferred in a woman. Even as the thought jabbed through her, she couldn't believe it. Maybe she was too proud to admit otherwise, but she knew he wanted her. Even with her lack of experience, she knew that.

But he wouldn't act on it. She knew that, too. Neither would she. Not again. He had made himself clear in the wagon.

In a burst of irritation, she decided he was an idiot, too. She would gather what she could of her dignity and try to go back to treating him as a patient rather than a man she wanted.

Half an hour later, as she waited outside the hotel for Andrew to come out of the schoolhouse, she saw Jericho limping into the telegraph office next door, using his crutch. She hoped he was going there to wire his mother. And that the drive to the fort wasn't still causing him pain.

Back at home, she tried to avoid him. When she went out to the garden, he was on the porch. When she started a fire in the stove, he walked around her to the wood box, cradling an armful of kindling. She peeled potatoes for dinner. He watched her. She sat with Andrew to go over sums, and Jericho stayed nearby. His presence rattled her composure, but she wouldn't let it slip again.

Finally, after Andrew was in bed, she escaped to her bedroom. She had taken down her hair and unbuttoned her bodice when she heard the thunder of hoofbeats. Alarm spiked through her and she fumbled with the buttons again. More than one rider. What had happened? She rushed out and quietly opened Andrew's door to make sure he was still in bed.
Moonlight striped the near corner of his room, leaving his bed in deep shadow, but she could see that her brother was asleep on his stomach, his head turned toward her.

Relieved, she backed away and rushed to open the front door. Davis Lee and Jericho stood at the top of the porch steps. She noticed Matt Baldwin on the bottom stair at Davis Lee's shoulder, but her gaze snagged for a moment on Jericho. On his bare chest. Oh, my.

She swiftly shifted her attention to the other men. The sheriff's face was drawn and angry. And Matt, whom she'd only ever seen with a smile, looked like murder.

All eyes turned to her in strained silence. She stepped outside and closed the door. “What's happened?”

Davis Lee looked at his cousin as if to ask permission to tell her. Jericho scowled, obviously frustrated.

Annoyed, she moved into their small circle, closer to Jericho than she'd been since that afternoon. She studiously ignored the play of light across his strong shoulders and arms, the dark hair on his chest. “Tell me, please.”

He jerked his head toward her as if telling Davis Lee it was all right to speak, but Davis Lee said nothing.

Muscle and sinew flexed in Jericho's arms as he braced his hands on his hips. Hating the awareness that lit her nerves, she sought out the big handsome man who had tried to court her when she'd first come to town. “Matt?”

“It's those damn McDougals,” he said harshly. “Pardon my language, ma'am.”

Her gaze flicked to Jericho, then she quickly focused on the sheriff.

“Matt's brother and pa found a steer butchered on their property,” he said. “And a recent campsite.”

“How do you know it's the McDougals?” she asked.

“It's them,” Jericho said roughly, scrubbing a hand over his
face. “I think they've been hiding nearby. It was only a matter of time before they came out of their hole.”

“How near?” She looked at Matt.

He glanced at the other men for approval before answering. “Our ranch is four miles outside of town, Miz Catherine. On the other side of Riley's land.”

That sounded entirely too close.

“We're getting a posse together now,” Davis Lee announced to Jericho. “I knew you'd want to know.”

“I'm coming.” He turned and limped to the corner where he had dumped his saddlebags.

A protest rose on Catherine's lips, but she kept silent. He wanted nothing from her.

“Get his horse, Matt,” Davis Lee said.

Matt Baldwin started for the barn.

“Damn.” Jericho moved back into the feeble wash of light. “I can't ride. I only got in a damn wagon for the first time today. I sure can't shoot from a gallopin' horse.”

His frustration was palpable, but Catherine feared the strain in his voice was due to pain.

“I'd slow you down.” Anger and resentment pulsed from him.

“It's better that you stay here with Catherine, anyway,” his cousin said. “We don't know which direction they'll ride.”

“If you catch up to them—”

“They're yours.” Davis Lee's gaze flickered to Catherine. “All of them.”

She frowned, wondering what that meant.

Restless energy rolled off Jericho like waves of heat.

“Catherine, I'm sorry.” Davis Lee turned to her. “I won't be able to drive you to the fort day after tomorrow. Jake will come for you.”

“All ri—”

“No need for that,” Jericho rasped. “She's not going.”

Her gaze shot to him. Why did he think he could order her around? He would probably expect her to salute next. “I most certainly am.”

A feral gleam came into his eyes as he looked at her fully for the first time. “Why would you do something so foolhardy?”

“I—” His gaze stripped her, probing, suspicious. Of her? “Dr. Butler needs me.”

“He needs you alive, not dead.”

Anger smoldered in his eyes, but she also glimpsed something else. Something soft and troubled. “And what if there's an emergency?”

“The gang won't ride toward the fort, Jericho. Not with the Army there.” Davis Lee didn't flinch at the thunderous look on his cousin's face.

A muscle worked in his jaw. “If she goes—if—I'll take her.”

“Dr. Butler might need me.” Catherine kept her voice even with an effort, telling herself that Jericho was only concerned for her safety. He wasn't
trying
to be unreasonable.

“When he comes to town tomorrow, he'll hear about what's happened and probably agree that you shouldn't go.” Tension coiled through his lean body, bringing the planes of his chest and shoulders into sharp relief. Shadows slid over the knuckled muscles of his bare belly right above the waist of his denim trousers. His face was unyielding. He laid down the law as if he were her husband.

A slow burn started inside her. “There are others who might need attention just as you did,
Lieutenant.
”

His eyes narrowed into silver slits. “We'll discuss it later.”

“We oughta go.” Matt walked to his horse and swung into the saddle, tipping his hat to her.

Davis Lee took Catherine's hand. “I do apologize. I'll make it up to you.”

“It doesn't matter right now.” She smiled up at him, though
her lips trembled. Why was she about to cry? Certainly not because of the taciturn Ranger beside her. “Thank you, though.”

The sheriff squeezed her fingers before he walked down the steps. He reached his horse, gripped the saddle horn and vaulted onto the animal's back.

Beside her Jericho seethed, resentment written in every taut line of his body. She eased away from him. “Be careful,” she called as Davis Lee brought his horse alongside Matt's.

He tipped his hat to her, gave his cousin a long, strange look, then galloped off into the night with the other man.

She fingered the buttons at her bodice, realizing only now that she had missed the top two. Jericho watched the men go, his face hard in the pale light.

Maybe it came from her earlier embarrassment. Maybe it was because of his high-handedness, telling her where she would and wouldn't go. Her own anger flared again.

“You will take me to the fort.” She'd meant it to sound confident; instead, uncertainty shook her voice.

He turned his head, his gaze impaling her. “Why are you not afraid, Catherine?”

She blinked. “What?”

“Why are you not afraid of the McDougals?” He took a halting step toward her. “You know what they've done to me. To others. Yet you take no precautions.”

“I do. I have.” She backed up once, then again as he kept coming. Her fingers fluttered at her chest, searching for buttonholes. The wall met her back and she pressed into it. “What is wrong with you?”

He stopped, his massive chest a fraction of an inch from her. Silver eyes burned into her and she heard his breathing turn rough.

“I only want to see you safe, Catherine. And yet you seem not to care.”

“But I have you.” The dusting of dark hair across his chest ran over his breastbone, then formed a thin line below his navel. Bless the saints. “Even if they tried to hurt me, you'd stop them.”

He made a rude sound, his gaze piercing.

She stared up at him, her own breathing shallow as she clutched the open edges of her bodice together. At most, only two inches of her skin showed, but she felt stripped in front of him, her nerves, as well as her body.

Heat poured from him, his chest rising and falling. His stare was so intense that she squirmed. “Jericho?”

“I can't even get on my horse,” he muttered. “What kind of protection is that?”

She frowned. “It's all I need.”

“It isn't.” Something flared in his eyes, something tender and wanting.

Her heart wheeled crazily in response. She dropped her gaze to the burnished skin stretched smoothly over his chest, his wide shoulders. If she put out her hand, she could touch the hewn muscles in front of her, his warm flesh.