Wishes on the Wind (53 page)

    Sheila's smile broadened as Sean took her arm, and she saw the warmth of it touch his eyes as well, despite his sober expression.

    "I wasn't expecting you tonight, Sean. It was my thought that after the long, hot day that it's been, you'd be cooling your heels at Lawler's."

    Sean's hand moved up her arm to clutch her shoulder and his clear eyes met hers directly. "I've been there and gone, because I had a need for you tonight, Sheila."

    Sheila's smile dimmed. "Is something wrong, then?"

    "Nay, nothin' that your arms around my neck and your body warmin' mine won't cure."

    "Ah, a craving of the flesh." Sheila laughed. "So you've missed my loving."

    Sober in spite of Sheila's jocular intent, Sean nodded. "Aye, that's so, but you know it's become more than that with us. The truth be known, you're necessary to me."

    Her brown eyes misting, Sheila took his hand.

    Her hand still in his, Sheila walked through the doorway of the abandoned mill a short time later and placed a lantern on the floor. She had returned to the house to pick up the light, and no questions were asked when those within saw Sean waiting for her outside. It was a familiar pattern to see Sean and her go off together, but for all its familiarity, it had never grown old to her.

    Taking a moment to glance around the small room that had become their own through the years, Sheila remembered the loving those sagging walls had seen. She knew there was more loving to come, and she trembled like a virgin as she turned to Sean once more.

    "Ah, Sheila…" Curling his callused hand around her neck, Sean drew her mouth to his. His hand trailed to her shoulder and then to the buttons on her shirtwaist with casual informality. He did not speak again until he had exposed her chemise. "Take off your blouse, darlin'. I need to feel your flesh against me. I'm in need of
healin
', you see."

    Sean unbuttoned his shirt as Sheila slipped the narrow straps from her shoulders, baring her breasts. He stayed her hand when she attempted to loosen her skirt as well.

    "Nay, Sheila, not yet. Let me look at you for a few moments this way."

    Sean's cool blue eyes moved over her rounded breasts, raising an uncommon flush on her cheeks, and Sheila luxuriated in her man's enjoyment of her partial nakedness.

    "Your breasts are beautiful, Sheila." Sean's hands curled around their fullness, holding their weight in his palms. His fingertips stroked the distended nipples and a jolt of pleasure shook her. "You've grown into a full-bodied woman, and there's no other I'd have in your place. Come, press yourself against me, darlin', and tell me you love me, for it's the words and the heat of you I need tonight more than anything else."

    Sean's need cried out to her and the response within Sheila was deep and abounding. Curling her arms around his neck, she pressed herself flush against him, a low gasp escaping her as their flesh and lips met simultaneously. Sean's arms slipped around her back and she reveled in his possession, even as she opened her mouth to his, inviting an intimate deepening of his kiss. Returning kiss for kiss, caress for caress, Sheila slid her hands into Sean's heavy black hair, luxuriating as the strands slipped through her fingers, gasping, clutching him close as he tore his lips from hers to trail his mouth along her neck, her shoulders, and fastening at last on the burgeoning nipples that awaited him.

    Ah, she ached for him as well. The echo of yearning in his voice had ignited a similar cry inside her. Clutching his head to her breasts, she groaned her appreciation as he took each in turn, loving it, devouring it. Surrendering their abundance, Sean returned to ravage her mouth once more and Sheila welcomed his kiss, loving him, wanting him.

    Her hand moving freely at Sean's waist, Sheila freed him from his trousers to take the warm rod of his manhood into her palm. She caressed the hard, palpitating flesh, holding it tightly, wanting it deep inside her. His eyes dropping closed for a brief moment as he indulged her caress, Sean reached around her to free the button on her skirt. With a few agile movements he stripped the last of her garments from her.

    Breathing heavily from the stress of his raging emotions, his clear eyes holding hers, Sean cupped her rounded buttocks in his hands, and fitting his male organ to her, pushed it into her moistness with a sudden thrust.

    "Ah, Sean… Sean… Sean…" Sheila's low litany of his name trailed into silence as Sean's mouth fastened briefly on her neck, her earlobe, to settle hungrily on her mouth. She was drowning in his loving, the exultation in her growing as Sean's heart pounded against hers. Drawing back, Sean resumed a slow, penetrating rhythm, that left her gasping.

«» «» «» «» «» «» «» «» «» «» «» «»

    High higher they soared, when Sean suddenly stopped, breathing heavily as he waited for her fluttering eyelids to settle and her gaze to fasten to his.

    "Tell me you love me, Sheila."

    "I do, Sean."

    "Tell me you'll love me always, no matter what comes about."

    "I will."

    "Ah… my darlin'…"

    His passion erupting with a low groan, Sean shuddered inside her, toppling Sheila from her sustained emotion with a low, ecstatic cry.

    Sean was the first to stir from their intimate posture. Pulling back, he drew himself from within her and stripped off the rest of his clothes. He took her hand, tugging her along with him as he lay down on the mat they had used many times before. He kissed her once, twice, and as she waited, a question in her eyes, he whispered, "We drew lots for a man's life tonight, Sheila."

    Sheila remained silent, knowing he was searching her face for a sign of revulsion. Finding none, he continued. "Three picked slips with the coffin and dagger drawn upon them, but I wasn't among that number." He halted, waiting for a response. When there was none, he prompted, "Are you glad that my hands will remain clean of this deed?"

    Sheila nodded, sensing he awaited that response. She was rewarded with a cold smile as Sean continued. "I thought you would. But you see, the truth is that I was disappointed when I found my slip clear. I
wanted
that bastard's life in my hands, Sheila. I wanted to put him away and to savor it, but it wasn't meant to be."

    Sheila was still silent when the hard gleam in Sean's eyes faded, leaving them unexpectedly sad. "I'm no good for you, Sheila. You should have nothin' to do with the likes of me, for you're a good woman. My weakness for you will have you share the sadness
approachin
', for as Meg would say, I might've taken a step toward
losin
' my soul this night."

    Raising a trembling hand to his cheek, Sheila finally spoke, her voice a shaken whisper. "But you came to me for lovin' instead."

    At Sean's soft "Aye," Sheila's smile was tremulous. She drew him close, tucking his head against her breast, knowing that simple response was all she would ever need.

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    Meg heard Terry's step at the bedroom door and closed her eyes. He entered and, moments later, the bed sank under his weight as he sat beside her.

    "It's no good, darlin'. That won't work anymore. I know yer awake."

    Terry's wide palm stroked her hair with a familiar tenderness and the ache inside Meg deepened. His coarse features were illuminated by a shaft of moonlight and she studied them intently.

    He looked the
samestraight
sandy-brown hair cut neatly; brown eyes under light brows; flat features in a broad face; an endearing smile that creased his cheeks with deep lines and displayed small even teeth; and the look of him gentle and shy, for all the power of his massive frame. Terry's hand strayed to her cheek and his touch felt the same, and his eyes reflected the same sense of wonder that they had displayed the first time he had held her in his arms.

    "Yer beautiful, Meg." Terry's voice was a raspy whisper. "I've said that to meself many more times than I've said it to ye aloud, but ye've never been more beautiful to me than ye are right now."

    "Terry…"

    "Let me finish, Meg. The rift between us is growin' worse, and we've a need to talk things out."

    Meg's eyes searched his face. "Aye, I'd like that, but the trouble is I'm not sure who's speaking to me now. Is it the Terry I married, or is it the 'soldier' that was hiding behind his face?" Meg's eyes suddenly filled. "How could you do that to me, Terry? How could you betray me?"

    "I've not betrayed ye, Meg." Terry's denial was emphatic. "Nay, I've turned meself inside out in the past few weeks, lookin' at things, and it's come down to this. Ye thought ye'd married a man who was a true friend to yer brother, and I am. Ye thought ye married a fellow who would keep Sean from
makin's
some bad mistakes, and I have. He belonged to the Brotherhood before I came here, Meg, and was a man with a reputation for bein' wild. He's not gone off half-cocked as he would have many times without my watchin' over him, and even while we've done some things you haven't approved of, I've still kept him safe."

    "But have you tried to make him see the error in his thinking, Terry?"

    "Ah, Meg, don't ye see?" Terry's tone implored her understanding. "Sean and I are agreed on most things, and in that way we're brothers."

    "Oh, Terry…" Meg's desperation was revealed in those two short words. "What hope is there for us now?"

    "Don't say that, Meg!" A trace of the stranger was momentarily visible in Terry's gaze, and Meg stiffened only to see regret replace his anger as he leaned over to brush her mouth with his. "I miss ye, Meg. I miss me wife. I want to see her look at me the way she did, and I want to see love light her face again when she sees me enter the room. And I'll tell ye now that I spent the past few hours
walkin
' and tryin' to get up me courage to ask ye the next question, for the truth is that the answer could break me heart. But I want to know, without
breakin
' my promise to ye, whether the distance between us now can come to an end while David Lang is still here in Shenandoah."

    The question was unexpected and Meg paused, reading Terry's pain as he awaited her response. She hadn't wanted it to be this way. She hadn't wanted Terry to suffer, but somehow things had slipped beyond her control. Compassion raised her hand to his cheek.

    "You're my husband, Terry. David Lang is a part of my past. If he's to play a part in my future, it will only be a small part, for my vows to you were spoken before God, and I'll not go against them." Pausing, Meg's voice dropped a note lower. "But I've not had an easy time coming to terms with the deception you practiced."

    "I've not deceived ye when ye've been in me arms, Meg, for me love's true."

    "I know, Terry. But the rest cuts deep."

    "Aye."

    Meg hesitated as she sought a solution to the dilemma entrapping them both. "Will you give me time to get to know you better, Terry? You're in need of comfort, but the truth is, if you were to take me in your arms right now, I'd be no good at feigning love."

    "Would it come to that, then?"

    Meg's response was a softly whispered, "Aye."

    The shudder that shook Terry's broad frame shook Meg as well, and her throat constricted with torment as Terry took her hand and raised it to his lips. He drew himself to his feet with a reluctance visible even in the poor light of the room.

    "It'll be as ye wish, darlin'. I'd not have the heart to have it any other way." Terry took two steps toward the door before turning back, a trace of a smile on his face. "I'll be a while returnin', darlin'. Yer not to worry, for I've things to think through."

    Alone again a few moments later, Meg's heart was aching. The man who had just left her was her husband, and for all his tenderness, she wasn't sure who he was or what he was thinking. It occurred to her in a moment of painful insight that even after all the years apart, the exchange of thoughts between David and herself was as open and free as if they had never parted. She read his heart in his eyes, and he read hers. It would never change.

    That realization haunting her, Meg turned her head into her pillow and cried.

    The sounds of Meg's muffled sobs reached Terry's ears as he stood outside his bedroom door, and a slow anger transfused him. His hands balled into fists and the inclination to mayhem became almost overwhelming.

    His Meg was crying, and he knew instinctively that she was not crying for him. He remembered the look of David Lang as the fellow had stared down on him each morning from the window of his office. He had seen a man who would steal everything he valued most, if he had the chance. For he'd seen Lang's type before, the kind who believed anything he wanted was his due.

    But that fellow's not get his Meg. He'd fix Lang good if it came to that. And if he did,
Meg'd
never know. He'd earn her love again. Aye, he would.

Chapter 23

    David faced Captain Linden across the desk in his study, barely restraining his anger. The moment the sober-faced policeman's arrival was announced, he had suspected something of the sort was coming, and his reaction was intense.