To Kiss a Texan

EIGHTEEN

WES CHECKED ON THE SLEEPING SHERIFF AND TOLDJason to call him if Hardy woke up. Then he slowly moved up the stairs. The thought of seeing Allie in her bath warmed his blood. He’d spent hours in the cold rain telling himself that she meant nothing to him. What he did for her he would have done for any human. She didn’t care for him any more than he did for her.

But after hours of talking to himself, only one picture came to mind… the vision of Allie reaching for her towel with her body glistening with moisture.

As he opened the door, he braced for her beauty, telling himself that he could look at her and even enjoy the sight of her without making any promises or attacking her like an animal. He’d just watch her and then kiss her goodnight. Maybe he’d hold her as they slept. Nothing more. Nothing.

When he stepped into their small room, the low glow of one candle greeted him. Allie knelt over the tub, scrubbing her dress. She wore her underthings, but the thin clothing did little to hide what he knew was beneath.

Forcing himself to move slowly, he crossed to the far side of the bed and removed his mud-covered clothes. Unlike Allie with her cleanliness, he planned to let his clothes dry and shake them out in the morning. It was a habit he’d learned in the Army. One that would have sent his mother into a sermon on cleanliness.

Allie looked up at him standing by the bed in his longhandles and undershirt. ‘‘No,’’ she said firmly, as if answering a question only she heard. ‘‘You are not getting in bed like that.’’

He raised an eyebrow, wondering if his mother hadn’t yet come back to haunt him. ‘‘I’m not?’’ He thought about reminding her how tired he was, or informing her that he had every right to climb in her bed. But her statement shocked more than angered.

‘‘No,’’ she answered. Her lifted chin reminded him of her grandmother. ‘‘There’s water enough to wash you first. Take off the rest of your clothes.’’

He froze. The idea of lying next to her totally nude with their bodies pressed together had crossed his mind a few thousand times today. But the thought of standing stark naked in front of her was something altogether different. The first was sensual, erotic. The second somewhere between unseemly and downright dirty.

‘‘Turn around,’’ he found himself saying in a voice gruff as ground anger. He’d not have her watching him bathe, even though that was exactly what he’d planned to do to her.

Allie did as he asked. Slowly, watching her all the time, he removed his clothes and walked over to the tub and stepped in. He grabbed the first bucket of water and poured it over his head. As the cold rain dripped down his body, he picked up the soap and began to wash.

She kept her back to him, moving around the edges of the room until she reached his pile of muddy clothes. Then, without a word, she picked them up and was gone.

Wes laughed and finished scrubbing. In truth, even a cold-water bath felt wonderful. When he dried off, he realized he had nothing, not even his longhandle underwear, to put on. So he slipped between the covers and waited. The warm blankets felt soft and grand against his tired muscles. The day had been endless, and now flickers of the single candle seemed to be waving him to sleep.

The rain still tapped on the roof, and the familiar sounds of horses in the corral reminded Wes of the home of his childhood.

Sleep had almost won over when Wes heard the door open and close softly. He didn’t bother to open his eyes as Allie lifted her side of the covers and slid beneath the quilts.

‘‘Are you asleep?’’ she whispered.

‘‘No.’’ He didn’t move. Just the sound of her voice made him very much awake.

She waited several breaths before asking, ‘‘Is now the right time to kiss?’’

He thought for a moment. It seemed like a decade ago that they’d kissed in the cafe. Could it really have been only this morning?

‘‘So, you’re interested in kissing?’’

‘‘If you’re not too tired.’’ She moved closer. ‘‘No one would be watching us.’’

Wes extended his arms, and she rolled against his side with covers bunched between them. He waited as she wiggled into place, moving her hair above his arm, finding just the right spot for her head on his shoulder.

He leaned slightly toward her and brushed her wild hair from her face. Even in the shadows, he could see her beauty. Featherlight, he touched his lips to hers.

‘‘Again,’’ she whispered.

He laughed against her hair, loving the way it smelled like rainwater tonight. When his lips lowered again, the kiss was deeper, drawing her response.

He pulled away. ‘‘Again?’’

Her face was calm, as though she were ordering dinner and not making his heart pound double-time.

‘‘Yes. I would like another.’’

He didn’t move. ‘‘First, pull the covers away from between us.’’

Rocking slightly, she tugged the covers and rolled back against his bare skin. The thin material she wore did nothing to bar the warmth of her body from his.

Wes felt like he was being tortured in paradise. ‘‘Closer,’’ he asked against her hair. ‘‘Move closer, Allie. You feel so good.’’

She followed his order, pressing against him.

He rewarded her with another kiss. If his mind could have worked at the moment, he would have wondered at this strange creature who thought a kiss was so wonderful. But he couldn’t think, all he could do was feel. He was drowning in a pool of pleasure and making no effort to swim to the surface.

The kiss deepened as he parted her lips and tasted her. His hand moved slowly along her back, stroking her gently, treasuring her. As the strokes grew stronger, she molded like liquid fire against him.

The feel of her enchanted him. Her nearness made him believe there was more than hardness and struggle in life. With just a kiss, she took him to where no other woman ever had… to a place of peace.

Finally, when he broke the kiss, she rolled onto her back and let out a long sigh. ‘‘Thank you,’’ she whispered, as though he’d given her a gift.

Wes raised to one elbow and watched her. He felt like a youth in his first encounter with love. He had no idea what to do. What she’d let him do. He was looking at a banquet of pleasures with a teaspoon in his hand. If he moved too fast, if he took too much for granted, she’d run. He could feel it.

‘‘Talk to me, Allie.’’ He gently placed his hand on her abdomen. Her slow breathing didn’t quicken with his touch. Her calmness brought him great pleasure.

She didn’t answer.

‘‘Talk to me. I need to know what you’re feeling.’’ Wes almost laughed aloud. He’d never said such words to a woman. Most of the time he’d only been interested inhowthey felt, notwhatthey felt. But Allie was different. She was like fine china. The wrong move might shatter her.

‘‘I like you to kiss me,’’ she said with her eyes closed.

‘‘I didn’t think I’d like it so much, but I do.’’

‘‘And?’’ He spread his fingers across her stomach. The perfection of her so near was intoxicating.

‘‘You don’t frighten me as other men have.’’ She opened her eyes. ‘‘You’ve never harmed me. With you, I no longer wait for a blow to strike.’’

Wes didn’t want to know. He never wanted to know. He knew he’d hate hearing it. But he had to ask. She had to tell him. ‘‘Allie, how have you been hurt?’’

The soft glow of peace faded from her eyes. He felt her breathing quicken beneath his hand. He could see terror jolt through her… pain too great to put into words.

‘‘Allie, tell me,’’ he said. ‘‘It was more than beatings, wasn’t it?’’

She clamped her mouth tightly closed, but couldn’t seal away the hurt in her eyes. Her whole body had gone cold, as if what she’d endured had killed something deep inside her.

He touched her hair, stroking it lightly. ‘‘It’s all right,’’ he whispered, wishing he hadn’t asked. ‘‘You don’t have to say anything.’’

But panic still flickered in her eyes. In one swift movement, she slid out of the bed and ran from the room.

Wes wasn’t sure if she was running from the nightmare she’d seen or from him. He lay on his back and swore to the ceiling. Without a word, she’d told him all she needed to. She’d suffered what polite ladies call ‘‘a fate worse than death.’’

He’d once heard his mother say that, if a man ever forced himself on her, she’d kill herself rather than live with the shame. But Wes saw no shame in Allie’s stare, only fear. How many times had she been attacked and used until now the mere thought brought panic?

His mind filled with visions he didn’t want to see. He’d seen all the horror he could handle in war; he didn’t want to view more. But the visions of Allie kept coming. Wes felt a ball of hate knot in his stomach. He wished he’d killed the preacher and the cripple who drove the wagon with the cage. And every man who’d looked at her and thought her less than a woman. How many days had they made her life a hell?

Slowly, he calmed. Allie had survived. No matter what happened, she’d survived. And there had been enough of her spirit left to reach out and take a chance with him.

‘‘Allie,’’ he said, knowing he was alone. ‘‘Thank God you survived.’’

She sat in the corner by the fireplace where the brick connected with the wall. The sheriff rested quietly, his bleeding lessened with each bandaging. Owen, the station manager, had stumbled off to his room in the back. Jason slept soundly on a kitchen pew. The room was almost as quiet as her cave.

Tucking her knees beneath her chin, Allie watched the way the firelight danced on the walls of the room. She didn’t want to think about her life before Wes. The nightmares would come back. He had no idea how hard she’d fought to forget what he asked her to remember. She could never tell him of the horror in the nights when her door was unlocked, and she’d fight until she couldn’t fight anymore. She couldn’t even tell him of how the wagon driver used to hold her and let men grab at her breasts as if they could pull the tender flesh off in their rough hands. She could tell Wes nothing. She knew she never would. The name she’d been called drifted across her mind…throwaway woman.Wes was the only one who thought she had some value. If she told him, he’d think less of her.

There would be no sleep tonight, she promised. The sheriff’s moaning would keep her awake and Jason, even asleep, somehow guarded her from evil. She would stay awake and not let the nightmares bother her. Then, with dawn, she’d start trying to forget all over again.

Allie didn’t look up when she heard Wes come downstairs. The shadow of a man draped in a quilt moved across the dancing firelight along the far wall. She could hear him lifting his saddlebags and guessed he was getting fresh clothes.

Staring at the floor, Allie thought of her home in the cave. This house was larger and warmer, but a place like this would never be home.

A blanket slipped gently around her shoulders. She looked up into Wes’s warm brown eyes now dancing with firelight.

‘‘I thought you might be cold.’’ He’d put on his extra pair of trousers and a dry undershirt.

‘‘I’m fine.’’ She rested her chin back on her knee.

He knelt in front of her and smiled as he pulled the blanket tight over her shoulders, cocooning her in its warmth. ‘‘I was thinking.’’ He picked his words slowly. ‘‘You may very well be the bravest woman I know.’’

Without commenting on what he was doing, he lifted her, blanket and all, into his arms. ‘‘I had a colonel once who said the hardest part of being brave is staying alive. Any fool can get himself killed. But a brave man, a true warrior, is the one who can stay alive, no matter what.’’

He started up the stairs with her in his arms. ‘‘What happened to you isn’t as important as the fact that you survived it. I figure that makes you about the bravest person I know. No matter what life’s thrown at you, you live on like a strong tree that stands against all weather.’’

He reached the door to their room. ‘‘So, if you don’t mind, I’d like the bravest person I know to sleep beside me.’’ He lowered her on the bed. ‘‘To keepmynightmares away.’’

She watched him move around the bed and slip beneath the covers. ‘‘You have nightmares?’’ she asked.

Wes smiled, knowing he’d guessed right. ‘‘Horrible nightmares.’’ He stretched his arm toward her. ‘‘Mostly of the war. In daylight, they seem far away, but with the dark, they drift into my sleep.’’

Allie cuddled into his embrace. ‘‘Me, too,’’ she whispered. ‘‘Sometimes I try not to sleep so I can keep them away.’’

Kissing her forehead, Wes slid his free hand to her waist and closed his eyes. ‘‘Maybe I’ll keep yours away the way you keep away mine.’’

Studying his face in the candle’s light she watched as he relaxed. In truth, she hardly noticed the scar anymore. There was so much more to this man. The thin white mark on his cheek seemed only a character line. His hair was longer than his brothers’. As his breathing slowed, she decided she liked his mouth the most. She liked the way he kissed her as if he were touching something treasured.

He’d called her brave. Proof that he was crazy, she thought. All she’d ever done in her life was try to run and hide. But he was right about one thing: she wasn’t afraid of him anymore. And if she could trust one person, maybe someday she could trust another.

All the men of any nation she’d ever known had been hard. At the worse, they’d been cruel. At best, indifferent to her. No matter how much she’d tried, she could remember nothing about her father except that he yelled and seemed angry. He’d set the pattern she’d grown to expect.

No man had ever called her brave or treated her so kindly. Allie studied Wes carefully. She must stand brave in front of him. It was wrong of her to allow him to see her fear as she had earlier. He was a good man and, little by little, he’d help her lose her fear of people. But tonight, she’d start with this one man.

‘‘Wes?’’ she whispered, testing to see if he was asleep.

He didn’t answer.

Allie moved her lips to his, tasting while he slept.

She raised to one elbow and lightly traced his jawline with her fingers. When he didn’t react, she felt his thick walnut-colored hair. He was of the earth, this man, with his brown hair and eyes.

Slowly, she lowered her hand to his throat where she could feel his pulse. He slept soundly, telling her how tired he was or, maybe, how much he trusted her. She knew he’d been a warrior, and he wouldn’t have fully relaxed if he thought he was in any danger.

Allie rolled on her back and took a deep breath. Now she could sleep, and she knew the nightmares wouldn’t come. Somehow, they’d fight them together as they slept.

Before she closed her eyes, there was one more thing she had to do. She had to know that the feel of all men was not the same.

Her fingers circled his wrist, resting at her waist. With determination she pulled his hand up until his fingers spread across her breast.

Allie held her breath, waiting for the pain.

But it didn’t come. His hand relaxed over her flesh, curving around her mound gently.

She took a deep breath and felt the rise and fall of his hand over her. Her breast seem to swell to fill his palm. Through the thin cotton, she could feel the warmth of his fingers. To her surprise, his touch felt good, brushing away memories of pain.

Spreading her smaller hand over his, she pressed. But his touch brought her no pain, and no terror blocked her screams.

Quickly, she moved his hand to her other breast. No pain again. Clearly, the past harm had come from the man and not from the act of being touched. For Wes’s hand brought her only the warm feel of his fingers touching her sensitive flesh.

She returned his hand to her waist. Somehow, her testing had removed an ounce of terror that she knew would no longer haunt her dreams.

‘‘Thank you,’’ she whispered.

‘‘You’re welcome,’’ he answered.