Beauty and the Bounty Hunter (35 page)

His.

“Ryan? We should go.”

“Ah, hell, Julia. I’m no good at this.”

“What?”

He leaned back against the stone wall, stared out at the descending sun. “Soft words. Tender touches. Roses and poetry.” He looked back at her and shrugged. “I’m not that kind of man.”

The wariness in her eyes faded as a gentle smile transformed her face. “You’ve done all right so far. I remember your touches, every single one, and they were quite tender, the words you whispered all the poetry I’ve ever wanted to hear. I’ll remember them and you forever.”

“That sounds like good-bye.”

“It is.” She stood.

Panic flared inside him, loosening his tongue. “No. Don’t go. Please.” He stood, too, making his way around the platform until he stood next to her. The wariness had returned to her eyes, the kicked-cat look again, though he had a feeling this cat would scratch and bite if provoked. Slowly he reached out a hand that shook just a bit, and smoothed the curling hair at her temple away
from her eyes. When his fingertips brushed her skin, she shivered and a tiny gasp of surprise escaped her mouth. He had to taste that mouth or die with wanting to.

He pressed his lips to hers, drinking her sigh, drowning in her scent, roses and tears. She didn’t respond at first, but when he continued to kiss her, then whispered her name in a choked, pleading voice he barely recognized as his own, she gave a sob of surrender and wrapped her arms about his neck, kissing him back with a desperation that matched his own.

He wanted her so much, he ached with it. His hands swept over her back, her waist, paused beneath her breasts. She moaned and arched against him. The beat of his heart sounded in his head, a primitive drum blocking out sense and reason. He wanted her. Now.

The cool breeze shifted, bringing the scent of flames and ashes, mementos of a world gone mad. His madness receded. They broke apart to stare out the window. On the horizon, smoke billowed, and the sun bled red, reminding them of all that awaited. She leaned against him, limp, and he held her as they watched the smoke and the flames mingle.

“Marry me, Julia,” he said to the bloodred sun.

“Yes,” she answered, and the wind howled.

R
uth dipped her fingertips into the jar, then spread the salve along the jagged line of stitches. Noah didn’t cry out, but his muscles fluttered and bunched beneath her touch. She couldn’t help it; she kept touching him. His side, his ribs, his belly, soft skin and crisp hair, hard muscles and bone, unyielding yet mortal. She swirled her fingers over his wound, then traced her thumb around the flat, tight dip of his belly button.

Noah grabbed her wrist and yanked it away none too gently. “What in hell is that stuff?”

“I’m not sure. But it heals the horses quickly enough.”

His eyes widened. “Horse liniment?”

“It won’t kill you.”

“No, but you might,” he muttered.

She didn’t understand. “I wouldn’t hurt you. I only want to help you.”

Ruth tugged on her wrist, but he tightened his hold to something near painful. “You have to stop touching me, Ruth. It’s wrong and you know it.”

“How can this be wrong? Don’t you feel it, too?”

“Yes, dammit.” He released her with a shove and a growl. “If you don’t stop, I’ll show you exactly how wrong this is.”

There were times when she caught a glimpse of the boy she’d loved lurking in his eyes. But more often than
not she saw a man she did not recognize, a man who frightened her a little with his hard hands, his mysterious scars, his rough words and mercurial moods.

Noah had been in her heart for years, in her dreams, too. But in them he’d only walked back into her life. There the dream had ended. In her girlish fantasies, there had been none of the awareness that set her on edge whenever she was with him and made her half crazy with longing whenever she wasn’t. Ruth had a feeling any dreams of Noah from this point on would be quite different.

“What is
this
?” She placed her palm against his chest, and Noah’s heart thudded in time with the pulse in her wrist.

He caught his breath and closed his eyes, and his face tightened. She took the tiny respite, smoothing her hand over his heated skin, across to his breastbone, then down, and down some more, her fingers tangling in the softer hair that furred his belly.

Before she could touch what she’d only gotten a hint of yesterday, he opened his eyes. “Stop it, Ruth.”

The longing in his gaze warred with the weariness in his voice. His face pale and drawn, he looked older than she knew him to be.

Ruth removed her fingers from the top of the sheet and softly touched his hair. “I’m sorry. You’re tired.”

He pulled his head away. “You don’t understand what you’re playing with.”

Her hand, hanging bereft in the air between them, clenched. “I’m not a child, Noah. I know what I feel.”

“Lust. Plain and simple.”

He sounded so certain, and Noah should know. He’d been out in the world. He’d been a man for a long time. Still…

“What I feel when I touch you isn’t plain and it certainly isn’t simple. I—”

“You’re right.” He cut her off, a bit desperately she thought. What did he think she’d meant to say? That she loved him?

She had. She did. She always would.

“Desire
isn’t
plain or simple,” he continued. “Especially the first time you feel it.”

Ruth scowled, unconscionably furious that he’d felt this before with someone else. What they shared was special—had been from the beginning and was only more so now.

“I’m flattered you feel this way about me, Ruth.”

“Flattered?”

She was getting angrier by the minute. He acted as if she were an ignorant child, as if he found her amusing. He behaved as if he did not feel the same way, and she knew that he did.

Oh, he might not love her, but he wanted her. She glanced down at the sheet draped over his hips. He couldn’t deny that.

Noah put his hands in his lap. “We come from two different worlds—”

“No. We come from the same world. That’s how we got to Kansas.”

“Even then you and I were different. I was a thief. You were a child. I came to that train on a leash, Ruth. Maybe you’ve forgotten that, but I never will.”

The bitterness in his voice made her pause. At the time he hadn’t seemed to care about the rope. She’d thought him proud and brave. But maybe he’d learned to hide his humiliation at a very young age.

“I haven’t forgotten.” She put her hand atop his, refusing to retreat when he started. “I’m the one who set you free.”

His face, hard and angry, smoothed, then gentled.
“You tried, at any rate. But there are some things a man can never be free of.”

“You’re not making any sense.”

He shook his head. “Marry the sheriff. Have ten kids. Forget about me.”

Her eyes narrowed. “I don’t know why you want to deny that what we have is special. What’s between us is too powerful to go away.”

Before he could divine what she was about, Ruth kissed him, using what little she knew, combined with everything she’d learned, to pour all that she felt into him.

For a moment, he resisted, his body rigid, his mouth stiff and tight. But when she traced the seam of his lips with her tongue, teased the corners, too, then feathered her fingers into his hair and cradled his head between her hands, he relaxed, bit by bit, and soon he was kissing her back.

At first he did not touch her, squeezing his hands together in his lap as if to keep some part of himself under control, and that would not do.

She moved closer, her breasts pressing against his bare skin until his warmth seemed to seep through the excessive layers of her clothes. He groaned, the sound a delicious vibration against her lips and her chest; then he wrapped his big hands around her hips and held on.

Ruth did nothing but kiss his mouth and touch his hair. To be truthful, she wasn’t exactly sure what else to do. One of her most vivid memories of Noah was waking up with her cheek against his chest, his arms holding her safe and tight. The peace she’d experienced then still existed, yet at the same time she felt anything but peaceful.

Back then he’d smelled of winter wind and summer salt. He still did. If she put her cheek against his chest
now, she would be unable to stop herself from tasting that scent, walking her lips over the glorious expanse of muscle, flesh and bone. She wanted to open her mouth and take part of him within.

Insane longings bubbled inside her, and if she acted on any one of them, he would push her away. She wasn’t so foolish as to believe he’d lost his head as much as she had. Though she wanted to kiss him until the night blew away, Ruth broke the embrace before Noah could.

Eyes closed, lips wet, he was so beautiful, tears burned in her throat. Not wanting him to see how much he affected her, she inched away. His fingers clung to her hips, then slid free as she stood and turned.

“Think about that while you sleep, Noah. I know I will.”