Bounty Hunter Proposal (10 page)

Matt woke at daybreak but remained as still as he could, not wanting to wake Isabelle. She lay with her back to him, one hand resting on his forearm and her hair cast across the pillow. She was naked, a fact he’d been aware of all night, every time she shifted. He listened to her soft breaths, breathed in her sweet scent and wondered how he’d managed to wind up married to such an impossible and irresistible woman.

Ever since he’d struck out on his own, he’d never slept in the same place more than two nights in a row. Now, he was going to settle down and was surprised how well the idea suited him. He cared for the boys and couldn’t imagine being apart from his sweet Isabelle. After last night she might even be carrying his child, God willing.

This was his family. He was certain. It didn’t matter that the boys were Jerome’s. Seth and Luke were good-hearted children and deserved a home. He didn’t know the first thing about bringing up children, but he and Isabelle would figure it out. Together.

Isabelle shifted, yawned and turned in his arms, nestled against his chest and sighed. “Matthias,” she whispered.

“Isabelle.” He kissed her hair.

She drew a deep sigh and fell back to sleep. He wanted to press a hundred kisses to her neck and shoulder and even lower. He wanted to make slow love to her as the day broke, but he knew she would be tender from last night.

A knock at the door drew him from his thoughts.

Isabelle sat up. “The boys. I hope everything is all right.”

Matt dressed and went to the door, opening it to find the Suttons’ foreman, Shorty.

“Morning,” he said. “Sorry to bother you, but I just come from town and thought you should know.”

“Something about Hughes’ execution?”

Shorty shook his head. “There ain’t gonna be one. Not today. He and another feller got loose last night. They stole a couple horses from the livery and headed north.”

Matt scrubbed his hand across his face. “Son of a bitch. How long have they been gone?”

“Midnight or so. The deputy wasn’t sure.”

“Sheriff Reid was at the Suttons last night. Damn, I should have killed that son of a bitch and brought him in dead.”

Shorty shook his head. “They beat a kid at the livery barn pretty good. No broken bones, but he’s got a shiner and split lip, talkin’ nonsense.”

“All right. I need to get moving.”

Shorty left, and Matt turned to find Isabelle standing in the doorway of the bedroom. Her face was pale.

“You’re leaving,” she said quietly.

He crossed the cabin and set his hands on her shoulders. “Hughes is my responsibility, and I need to go after him. I know where he’s headed.”

“Are you coming back?” Her words were a tremulous whisper.

Her words stunned him. After the night that they’d shared, it didn’t seem possible she would ask him that question. “Of course I am.”

The silence hung between them for a long moment. The doubt and worry in her eyes ate at him, but there was no time for any sort of discussion.

He pulled her into his arms. She felt small and delicate. All he wanted was to spend every day and every night by her side. Leaving her tore him apart, but he needed to hunt Darrell Hughes down and finish him off. If he didn’t, the man would go on to kill others.

“Isabelle,” he whispered. “I promise I’m coming back to you. You’re all I want. You and the boys.”

He kissed her, squeezed her shoulders and moved past her to the bedroom to dress. He moved quickly and minutes later he was outside the cabin, Arlo saddled and ready to ride. Isabelle stood on the porch dressed in a simple muslin dress, her hair loose and her feet bare.

With a smile on his face he walked up the steps and took her into his arms. She clung to him silently. He drew a deep breath, taking in her scent and savoring the way she felt in his arms. He kissed her and turned away. With a heavy heart he swung into the saddle and rode away.

The day passed slowly. Each time a horse or wagon went by on the road, Isabelle felt her heart race, and she’d hurry to the porch to see if Matthias returned. The only wagon that came up the path to the cabin was the Sutton wagon. Shorty drove the buckboard along with Savannah, Violet and the two boys.

Shorty helped the women down, and the boys, too. Seth held the pup who wriggled in his arms. Both women were quiet, and it was Shorty who spoke first.

“I could sure stay with you, Miss Isabelle. I’ll sleep on the porch or up in the hay barn if you like.”

“I’d rather you come home with us,” Violet said. “Stay at our house. Matthias will know where to find you.”

Isabelle drew a deep sigh. She didn’t want to let on how worried she was because the boys, Seth in particular, grew anxious any time they noted worry in her tone or demeanor.

“I’m not worried a bit,” she said. “Matthias will be back when he’s done with his work. In the meantime, I’ll wait here for him.”

The boys came to her side and she smiled at Violet and Savannah. “We’ll be just fine.”

She saw the doubt in Violet’s eyes. Isabelle considered that if she were ever threatened, Violet Sutton would be as fierce a protector as Shorty.

Even though Isabelle did her best to assure the Sutton ladies and Shorty that she’d be fine, it took a while to convince them. They lingered. Each of them seemed as anxious for Matthias to return as she. Isabelle invited them in, fed them a late lunch and several helpings of sweets before they finally agreed to go home.

When they were gone, it was near dusk. She set a pot of water to heat on the stove and pumped water for the tub.

“We’re going to have a proper bath,” she told the boys.

The excitement that the bath caused made her forget about Matthias for a short while. As it grew dark, both boys climbed into the tub, and the puppy, Patch, joined them. The boys marveled at the hot water. They’d never had a hot bath, Isabelle realized.

After she put them to bed, she kept herself busy with needle work. When the boys had been asleep for a few hours she heard hoof beats and the jingling of a bridle.

She flew to the door and pulled it open. “Matthias, I’ve been waiting up for…”

Her words died on her lips. It was a man she didn’t recognize. Scarred. Unshaven. Scowling.

“Are you Matthias Hudson’s woman?”

She stepped back. The man reeked of sweat and filth and some evil thing she couldn’t name.

“I’m Mrs. Hudson,” she said. “Who are you?”

The man’s face split into an evil grin. “I’m Darrell Hughes, and Hudson owes me something.”

Her mind reeled, and she felt herself rooted to the ground. It was like a bad dream where it was impossible to move. He shoved her back not once, but twice. The second time, she upset a chair, sending it clattering to the floor.

“I heard ol’ Matthias got himself married,” Hughes said. “Kinda funny considering he didn’t seem to be one to settle down.”

Isabelle felt every nerve in her body light with fear. “He isn’t here. You best keep moving.”

He backed her against the table, and she gripped the edge for support. She listened for movement upstairs but heard nothing. Everything moved slowly. Each step was as if she moved through molasses. Each word from Hughes was unhurried.

She backed into the kitchen, deliberately leading him away from the boys. This was the man that frightened Shorty, she reminded herself. A monster. There was no telling what he might do to her or the boys. She’d have to think of something to save them.

“I don’t want Matthias,” Hughes said.

“Then go on,” she said. Her hands skimmed behind her, tracing across the table for something, anything... a knife, a fork, but her hands met with nothing.

A sound distracted her, and Luke appeared in the doorway. His eyes were wide, and he stared at the intruder with curiosity.

Hughes followed her gaze. “Who does that brat belong to?”

“He’s my…son. He belongs to me. He doesn’t speak.”

Luke stuck his thumb in his mouth and sucked, keeping his gaze on Hughes.

“Go back upstairs, Luke. I’ll be up soon.”

Hughes snorted. “Doubtful.”

“Do as I say,” she coaxed. “Be a good boy.”

Luke took his thumb out of his mouth with a pop. “Okay, Momma.”

He turned away, and she listened as he went up the steps. He’d spoken. It was the first time she’d heard him say anything, and he’d called her
Momma
.

Hughes eyed her, and she wondered if he might change his mind about whatever devilry he had planned.

He held up his hand. His pinky finger was missing. His wounded hand festered, and the stench hit her, making her stomach clench.

She set her trembling hand over her mouth. Silence stretched between them as she waited for an explanation.

“Your man did this to me. I’m here for payback. Sheriff Reid said you got two of them boys. Three of you going to pay what Hudson owes me.”

Her heart thudded in her chest. She stared at the grisly wound. The boys slept upstairs, and she pictured them in their beds. Blood roared in her ears. Her hands curled into fists.

He rubbed his hand across his face and tilted his head toward the stove. “Watcha got on the stove?”

“It’s venison chili. Would you care for some?” She moved to the stove and lifted the pot lid. A cloud of steam wafted in the air, and she waved it away.

A tiny growl and bark came from the doorway. Patch was barking and posturing as if he would run Hughes off. He yipped.

Hughes laughed, “What the hell is…”

Isabelle saw her chance. She gripped the handle and whirled around, scalding hot skillet in hand. The iron clanged, and she heard Hughes give a huff of surprise. She opened her eyes to find him face down on the ground.

She dropped the pan to the floor and looked at her hand. The burn blistered, yet she felt nothing.

Hughes lay still, no sign of life. She grabbed a rolling pin and crouched down slowly, ready to strike again. She touched his wrist, half-expecting him to jerk away, but he didn’t move. She felt for a pulse and found none.

She got to her feet and went upstairs. She wasn’t sure what she expected to find, but one thing she didn’t anticipate was to find the two boys fast asleep. She stared at them in disbelief.

Patch lay curled up at the foot of Luke’s bed. He lifted his head and gazed at her. She stroked his ears. The small pup, the runt she was certain she shouldn’t bring home, had distracted Hughes just enough for her to save herself, and the boys… the smallest life in the house saved the day.

Patch got up, circled a few times and settled into sleep with a heavy sigh. 

Sitting down at the foot of the bed, Isabelle watched the boys and the small dog dozing peacefully. She wasn’t sure how long she sat there, but she was drawn from her daze by the sound of a horse.

She went downstairs and met Matthias at the door.

“Isabelle,” he said from between gritted teeth. He looked her up and down. She’d forgotten all about the chili on her clothing.

“What happened?” He gripped her shoulders. “Tell me what happened.”

“I killed him,” she said softly. “I hit Darrell Hughes over the head and killed him.”

Her voice sounded different to her own ears. Dark spots filled her vision. Matthias said something, but his words sounded so far away. She smiled and everything went black.

Matthias built the fire so that it blazed cheerfully. It had been a week since Hughes had come to the cabin. The last seven days had been hard for Isabelle. She went about her day, but at odd moments, her eyes would fill with tears or she’d begin shaking.

He settled the boys in their beds, tucked them in with the puppy. Patch played all day long with Seth and Luke and by the end of the day could barely keep his eyes open. He promptly curled up and went to sleep.

“You two boys go on to sleep,” he said. “Tomorrow I’m taking your momma and you to town and you can get a stick of candy at the mercantile.”

When they were tucked in, he went downstairs to the washroom where Isabelle sat in the tub. Candles flickered, giving the room a glow.

“Need a little help with your bath, ma’am?” he drawled.

She sat in the water, her hair pinned up and a small smile on her face, the first he’d seen since that night.

“My hand is healing, and I’m able to bathe myself, sir.”

“But I like to see my wife in the tub,” he said. “I pictured her in my head even before I bought it for her.”

He knelt by the tub and kissed her shoulder. “Let me have a look at your hand.”

She held it out, and even in the dim light, it was clearly healing beautifully. Violet and Savannah had made a poultice for him to use each night. Now it looked like it didn’t even need a bandage.

“Savannah and Violet are smart, smart ladies,” he said. Then he turned her hand over and kissed the top.

“Did you come in here to help me with my bath or take me to bed?” Isabelle asked.

He stared at her in surprise. For the last week, he’d held her at night, soothed her when her sleep became restless, but he hadn’t done anything more. His gaze drifted from her eyes to her full lips.

“Both. Either,” he offered.

She stood and held out her hand, and he drew her from the tub. His body always stirred with need when she was near, but with her subtle flirting he felt the need burn hotter.

He wrapped the towel around her. The last week had been the same nightly routine… he’d dry her off, tell her how much he loved her, bandage her hand and help her into her gown. Not tonight. He blew out the candles and lifted her into his arms.

“I’m wet, Matthias,” she protested.

He chuckled as he took her to the bedroom. “Are you telling me dirty things, Isabelle?”

She smacked his shoulder. “What if I am? Are you planning on spanking me?”

He drew a sharp breath.
Spanking her
. The idea hadn’t even crossed his mind in the last week. All he wanted to do was protect her and shield her from danger and ugliness. The notion of spanking her sweet bottom drew a growl from him.

“Not tonight, Isabelle, but you’ll get double next time. Tonight, I just want to make love to you.”

He set her down gently on the bed, locked the door and shed his clothes. He prowled over to the bed and leaned down to kiss her. She met his kiss with parted lips and a soft moan. When he pressed against her folds, she was slick and swollen, and his touch made her flinch.

“Bad girl,” he murmured. “Your pussy’s wet for me.”

“No…”

“No? Maybe I should see for myself.”

She giggled as he trailed kisses down her tummy.

“If you’re not telling me the truth, you’ll be in trouble.”

He pushed her legs apart, and when she tried to edge away he yanked her down, pinning her to the bed with his arm.

“Bad girl,” he growled. “You won’t get away from me.”

He licked her, savoring her sweet taste and forgetting his promise of trouble. Her scent made him wild. She mewled as he teased her. When he sucked her clit, she murmured his name, promised him anything he wanted and pleaded for release. He loved hearing her soft cries.

While he would have liked to torment her longer, he wanted to sink into her and possess her again.

He rose up and settled between her thighs. “You’re going to come on my cock.”

She panted, deep trembling breaths. “That’s filthy.”

He pressed into her. She was so tight, he worried he’d hurt her, and he gritted his teeth to maintain control. When he felt her hands on his hips urging him on, he thrust deeper.

She clung to him, her soft breath fanning against his ear.

“I wanted you,” she whispered.

He gathered her hair in his fist and captured her lips with his, taking long, deep strokes.

“You wanted me today?”

She arched and dug her fingers into his shoulders. “First time I met you.”

He skimmed his hands along her ribcage, cupped her breast, and pinched her playfully. She whimpered.

He nipped her earlobe. “I wanted to put you over my knee. Wanted to kiss you, spank you and fuck you.”

She moaned, and he felt her clench around him.

“I wanted to taste your virgin pussy.”

A gasp of disbelief met his ear.

“Make you come on my tongue.”

She arched beneath him and cried out his name. Her pussy clenched around his cock, and he followed her over. Wave after wave of pleasure washed over him, and he held her as she shook, her own ecstasy flowing through her.

He rolled over and took her with him so she lay on top of him. “Next time we’re going to fuck like this. You on top of me.”

Limp and weak, she lay across him. She lifted her hand and set it on his mouth. “I’ve heard more dirty words since you’ve brought me to bed than I have in all my life.”

Her hair spilled across his chest, and he trailed his fingers through the soft curls, recalling the first time he saw her, just outside of the cabin. She stood on the path, her hair damp from the river. It hung to her waist, wild and free. Her feet were bare. She held the boys’ hands, her expression wary. In the failing light of dusk, he thought she was the loveliest thing he ever saw.

“I wanted you too, Isabelle.”

She sighed as she drifted towards sleep.

“I wanted you more than anything I’d ever wanted before.”

“Mm, I knew it,” she said softly. “I knew it all along.”

He tightened his hold on her and thought of how easily he could have lost her. How damn scared he’d been thinking he wouldn’t get to her in time. He drew the blanket over her and listened as her breathing deepened, and she fell asleep, draped over him.