Forbidden Fires (14 page)

Caitlyn rose slowly to her feet, the muscles in her legs and back aching from sitting for so long. “Thank you, Paulie.”

“We’ll have to keep him in one of the stalls until his leg heals. I don’t want him walking around on it.”

“He won’t like that,” Caitlyn remarked, smiling faintly. “And he’ll be a bear to ride when his leg is better. You know how he is if he isn’t exercised every day.”

Paulie nodded. There was no guarantee she’d ever be able to ride the blood bay stallion again and they both knew it.

“Let’s go, Caitlyn,” Rafe said, draping his arm around her shoulders. “You need some sleep. And I think Paulie does, too.”

She didn’t argue, but willingly followed Rafe out of the barn and back to the house. His arm slid down to her waist as they made their way down the narrow hallway to Caitlyn’s bedroom. He took his arm from her waist when they reached the door and a sudden awkwardness rose between them.

They had been so close earlier, Caitlyn thought, wishing she knew how to recapture the intimacy of those moments before the fire. She almost asked him to stay the night with her so she might enjoy the comfort of his presence, discover what it would be like to fall asleep in his arms. But then, unbidden, came the thought of Frenchy’s women, painted, powdered, and perfumed, sharing a bed with Rafe, holding him as she had been holding him, their hands more familiar with the hard planes and textures of her husband’s body than she was.

“Good night, Rafe,” she said curtly. How could she have let him kiss her earlier? How could she have forgotten that he preferred other women to his own wife?

“Caitlyn.” There was a wealth of unspoken desire in his voice, a need to hold her, to comfort her.

For an endless moment they stood close, not quite touching.

She wanted him, Caitlyn thought, regardless of how many other women he had known. She wanted him, and that thought shamed her.

Rafe waited, hoping Caitlyn would ask him to stay, and when she didn’t, he shoved his hands into his pants pockets and turned away. His voice was cold and bitter when he bid her good night and left her there, alone, untouched, and empty inside.

The following Saturday Caitlyn told Rafe she needed to go to Cedar Creek to get supplies, but all she really wanted was to get away from the ranch. She needed to see Christine, to talk to someone who would listen without sitting in judgment.

She dressed carefully that morning as appearances were important now, more important than ever. No one in town must ever suspect she was less than happy, that her marriage was far from perfect.

She chose a green dress with tiny white flowers embroidered on the scooped bodice. A wide white sash spanned her waist, and black kid boots hugged her feet. She took a last quick glance in the mirror before leaving the room. The dress complimented her hair and eyes and flattered her figure. She wondered if Rafe would notice how nice she looked, and then scolded herself for caring.

He was waiting for her in the parlor. He had gone shopping since their marriage, purchasing several pairs of trousers and shirts, as well as a pair of dress boots and a broad-brimmed black Stetson. Today he wore black pants and a dark blue shirt. His hat was pushed back on his head.

“Ready?” he asked curtly, and when Caitlyn nodded, he opened the door for her and followed her outside.

His hands were strong and sure as he helped her into the buckboard. Vaulting up onto the seat beside her, he took up the reins and clucked to the horses.

Caitlyn was hardly aware of the trip to town, so conscious was she of the man beside her. She felt her heart quicken each time his thigh brushed against hers, each time the jostling of the buckboard caused his arm to bump hers.

From the corner of her eye she studied his profile. Was it possible he had grown more handsome since they first met? Had his shoulders always been so broad, his legs so long?

She thought of the nights she had lain awake wanting him and yet, even as she desired him, she could not forget the nights he went to town. The image of Rafe making love to one of Frenchy’s whores haunted and tormented her, making her own desire for him seem cheap, tawdry.

Rafe kept his eyes on the road. Since the night of Caitlyn’s nightmare, he had waited, hoping she would admit she wanted him, hoping she would be able to forget he was half Indian and see him as a man and nothing more. But she seemed content with things the way they were, and he refused to beg for her favors. Indeed, he cursed himself for caring. Women were nothing but trouble, and yet he could no longer deny that he cared for her, that he wanted more than just a few quick kisses and an hour in her arms to relieve the awful ache that plagued him day and night. He wanted to share his thoughts with her, his dreams, his doubts.

He glanced at her, admiring the unblemished beauty of her skin, the gold of her hair, the blush in her cheeks. Her hands were folded in her lap and she seemed totally absorbed in the passing scenery.

He was glad when they reached town. Her nearness was a constant torment, and he left her at the Mercantile store, saying he would meet her back there at three o’clock sharp.

Caitlyn smiled and said that would be fine, then watched as he walked across the street and entered the Cattlemen’s Saloon. With a sigh, she hurried down the street to Christine’s house. She had two hours to visit with her friend and get her shopping done before Rafe came to pick her up.

Christine was surprised to see Caitlyn, and they spent a few minutes exchanging pleasantries before Christine’s curiosity got the best of her. Taking Caitlyn’s hand in hers, she squeezed it.

“Enough about the price of yard goods and the weather,” she said candidly. “What’s bothering you?”

“Am I that transparent?” Caitlyn wailed softly.

“No, but then, I’ve known you long enough to know when something’s troubling you. What is it?”

“It’s Rafe,” Caitlyn admitted.

“Does he beat you?” Christine asked, only half joking. The man was an Indian; nothing he did would surprise her.

“No, it’s nothing like that. Oh, Chris, everything is such a mess!”

“I’m listening.”

Caitlyn drew a deep breath and then, her eyes downcast, her voice low, she told Christine about what had happened on her wedding night.

“I behaved badly,” Caitlyn finished. “I hurt him, I know I did.”

“And now you’re sorry.”

Caitlyn nodded. “What should I do? I can’t just sashay up to him and say, ‘I’m sorry, let’s go to bed.’”

“Why not? You’re married.”

Caitlyn stared at her friend in amazement. “How would it sound? What would he think? What if he refused me?”

Christine shrugged. “I think you’re making too much of this. You want him. He seems to want you. What have you got to lose?”

My pride,
Caitlyn thought to herself, but she didn’t say the words aloud.

“Pride’s not much company on a cold night,” Christine said, her impish grin in place once more.

“You amaze me, Chris,” Caitlyn muttered. “You’re not even married, yet here you are, giving me advice. I’m shocked.”

Christine laughed and Caitlyn joined in. The laughter released some of Caitlyn’s tension and she felt better than she had in a long time.

“Anyone can give advice,” Christine said. “I suppose I should be appalled to discuss such an intimate problem, but sometimes I think people make more out of marriage and mating than’s necessary.”

“Well, don’t let anyone else hear you say that. Your reputation would be ruined,” Caitlyn muttered.

“It certainly would be.” Christine laughed. “Let me know how things turn out.”

“I will. Thanks, Chris.” Caitlyn was smiling when she left Christine’s house almost two hours later. Perhaps her friend was right. Perhaps she should take a chance and admit she had been wrong.

She entered the Mercantile store and placed her order, chatting with the owner’s wife while her things were loaded in the back of the buckboard. There were several women in the store and Caitlyn felt them watching her, wondering.
Married to a half-breed,
she could almost hear them thinking.
What is it like? Is he as savage as his Indian ancestors are known to be? Does he abuse her, beat her, degrade her?

Turning from the counter, Caitlyn pasted a smile on her face, hoping she looked like a woman who was happily wedded and bedded. She nodded to several of the ladies as she left the store, felt her cheeks burn with rage when she overheard one of them whisper loudly that Caitlyn Gallegher had a lot of nerve, coming to town to mingle with decent, God-fearing people.

Outside, Caitlyn stood on the boardwalk, her gaze fixed on the saloon across the street, willing Rafe to come for her.

Instead, she saw Abner Wylie walking toward her.

“Afternoon, Mrs. Gallegher,” Abner said, tipping his hat.

“Mr. Wylie.”

“Fine day.”

“Yes, it is.”

“You’re looking well,” he said as his gaze slid over her, lingering on her breasts before returning to her face.

“Thank you,” Caitlyn replied tersely. She kept her hands at her sides, resisting the urge to cross her arms over her breasts. “If you’ll excuse me, I’m supposed to meet my husband at the post office.”

It was a bald-faced lie, told in hopes of ridding herself of Abner’s company. It didn’t work.

“I’ll just walk along with you,” Abner said, and there was nothing for Caitlyn to do but start down the street toward the post office.

“How’s everything at the ranch?” Abner asked.

“Fine.”

“I heard a couple of your boys grousing at the saloon last Saturday night. Seems they ain’t too happy about working for a breed.”

Caitlyn pursed her lips, refusing to rise to the bait.

“Can’t say as I blame them none,” Abner went on. “You can’t trust them redskins. They’ll steal you blind.”

Caitlyn scowled, wishing the earth would open and swallow Abner Wylie whole, though she thought that would be a mouthful, even for Mother Earth to accomplish.

“Well, here we are,” Abner remarked when they reached the post office at the far end of town. “Seems as though your husband is late.”

“Yes.”

“You should have married me, Caitlyn,” Abner said, his voice low and hard. “How could you sell yourself to that bastard? I’d have taken good care of you, and the ranch, too. You knew I was sweet on you. Your pa knew it, too, and he approved. You had no right to leave me for that damned breed. No right at all!”

Caitlyn stared at Abner, stunned by his words. The jealousy blazing in his pale blue eyes made her uneasy.

“I didn’t leave you,” Caitlyn said quietly. “There was never anything between us.”

“I asked you to marry me three times!”

“I don’t love you. I’m sorry.”

“Do you love that breed?”

“That’s none of your business.”

“Like hell! If it wasn’t for that damned Injun, I’d still be head wrangler at the Circle C, and you’d be my wife.”

“That’s not true!”

“The hell it isn’t! Your old man liked me fine until that Injun came along.”

“My father never stopped liking you, Abner,” Caitlyn said. “You quit the Circle C, remember? He never asked you to leave.”

“You were meant to be mine, Caitlyn,” Abner said passionately, and before Caitlyn could guess what he had in mind, he pulled her into the alley between the post office and the Cedar Creek Bank and Trust and kissed her, his arms imprisoning hers at her sides while his body pinned her against the wall of the bank.

Caitlyn struggled furiously, repulsed by his kiss. She nearly gagged as his tongue forced its way into her mouth. An angry roaring filled her ears as his kiss grew deeper and then, recalling herself, she brought her knee up hard and fast.

Abner gasped and reeled backward as her knee slammed into his groin. “You bitch!” he growled. “You’ll be sorry for that.”

“Don’t you ever touch me again,” Caitlyn warned. “I’ll tell Rafe if you ever come near me again, and he’ll kill you.”

Abner grinned at her through the layers of pain that wracked him. Slowly, he caressed the butt of his gun. “I hope he tries.”

Caitlyn felt a twinge of unease. Abner was fast with a gun. She had often seen him practicing behind the barn, matching his draw against that of the other cowhands. Abner never lost. His draw was sure and smooth and very, very fast. It was an odd talent for a cowboy, but he was good. Very good.

And Rafe didn’t wear a gun.

With a small cry of dismay, Caitlyn ran out of the alley, her hand smoothing her hair as she went.

Abner watched her go, his narrowed eyes glinting with rage and unfulfilled desire. It galled him to know she had chosen a half-breed over him, and he vowed someday he would make her pay. Someday, somehow, he would find a way to have the ranch and Caitlyn, too. And if he had to kill the breed somewhere along the way, so much the better. He would like nothing more than to see Rafe Gallegher in his gun sights.

Abner laughed softly as he left the alley.

He had never realized he possessed such a deep vengeful streak, but the thought of taking vengeance against Caitlyn for her ill-treatment of him was sweet indeed.