Forbidden Fires (25 page)

Just looking at her filled him with a sense of contentment, of belonging. Walking into the house earlier, he had experienced a sense of homecoming. It was a feeling he had not known before and Caitlyn was responsible for it. She had made her home his, and he was determined to see that she didn’t lose it because she loved him. She had spoken the words before, but he had been reluctant to accept them, reluctant to believe.

Caitlyn became aware of Rafe’s presence in the room and she turned around, her eyes brimming with joy at seeing him standing hipshot in the doorway, and then her expression grew wary as she recalled how he had walked out on her earlier.

“Dinner will be ready soon,” she said. His steady gaze unsettled her. Her tongue licked her lower lip as she braced herself for bad news.

“Caitlyn.”

“Wh—what’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” He grinned sheepishly. “I just like saying your name.”

She cocked her head to the side, bemused. He didn’t sound like he was getting ready to leave her, and that had been her greatest fear.

He held up his hand and beckoned to her and she went to him without hesitation. His arms were a welcome haven and she laid her head against his shoulder, baffled by his odd behavior. He held her close for a long time, saying nothing while his fingertips caressed her cheek, then slid around the back of her neck to massage her nape. His touch was hypnotic, stirring her blood, making her heart begin to dance.

Gently, he placed his hand beneath her chin and lifted her head. His eyes smiled into hers, capturing her gaze. He had beautiful eyes, she thought, deep and dark, filled with fire. His straight brows and short, thick lashes were a perfect frame for those beautiful eyes.

She was drowning in his gaze when he lowered his head and kissed her. His mouth was warm and soft as it moved over hers, his tongue a silken flame as it slid across her lips. Her head fell back over his arm, her lips parted to receive him. She felt his hand move to her buttocks, and then he drew her close, grinding their hips together so that she could feel his need for her.

“Caty, Caty,” he murmured, his breath warm and intimate against her ear. His tongue wove its spell along the side of her neck, and she shivered with delight.

Effortlessly, he lifted her into his arms, his eyes on her face, a question in their glowing depths.

He wanted her, now, but he was asking her permission. She knew it, even though no words had been said. Feeling suddenly shy, she nodded, her arms wrapping around his neck.

“Caty!” He kissed her hard, and then he was carrying her out of the kitchen, down the hallway toward their bedroom. Gently, he placed her on the bed, then moved to draw the curtains.

She followed his every move, her heart pounding like a drum as he came to stand beside the bed. Slowly, deliberately, provocatively, he began to undress, making her heart beat faster and faster as he slid out of his shirt, pulled off his boots, stockings, and trousers. He wore no underwear and now stood naked before her, tall and strong and handsome. And very male. She smiled at the evidence of his desire.

Rafe cocked one black brow at her. “You find me amusing?” he asked, grinning wickedly. “Or are you merely feeling superior because you can hide your lustful thoughts while mine are blatantly obvious?”

“Neither,” Caitlyn replied, her smile as radiant as the summer sun. “I’m smiling because you’re beautiful, and because you’re here with me.”

“There’s no place I’d rather be,” Rafe said softly.

He dropped one knee on the bed and began to undress her, the heat from his gaze bringing a flush to her cheeks, making her skin tingle with yearning. His hands made short work of undressing her and then he sank down on the bed beside her, his arms drawing her close. His hands stroked her hips and thighs, stirring the embers of desire into a raging inferno that culminated in wonder and fulfillment such as Caitlyn had never known. Later, lying in his arms, she was surprised to find the sheets unscorched, the pillows not in flames.

“I love you, Caty.”

The words, so unexpected, were spoken softly. So softly, she almost missed them. Tears filled her eyes as he said the words she had so longed to hear.

“I love you,” he said again, and the words came stronger this time, as if, having said them once, they were easier to say a second time.

“Oh, Rafe,” she murmured. “Please forgive me when I say stupid things. I don’t mean to hurt you.”

“Caty, don’t.”

“I love you so much.’’

“I know,” he whispered. “I know.” His hands cupped her breasts, then slid down to her belly. Frowning, he raised himself on one elbow and looked into her face.

Caitlyn slid her gaze from his, then, her cheeks blossoming with color, she let her eyes meet his. “It’s true,” she said, her voice a whisper. “I’m pregnant.”

“Caty!”

“Do you mind?”

“Of course not.” He sat up and pulled her into his lap. “When? How?”

“The usual way,” she said, joy bubbling up inside her like a spring. “It should be born in February, I think.”

A baby,
Rafe thought, dazed. The idea took some getting used to.
A baby…a little girl with Caty’s golden hair and emerald eyes. February.
He counted back and realized the child had been conceived on the trail.

“Caty.” He crushed her close, too elated to utter more than her name.

Caitlyn sighed with happiness. She had suspected she might be pregnant since they left the Indian village, but she had put off telling Rafe. He had so much on his mind, what with the men’s deaths and the loss of the herd. And daily the bank loan loomed darker over their heads. Mostly, she had been afraid to mention it for fear he might not want children. It was a subject they had never discussed.

He held her for a long time, and then he drew away, his eyes filled with reverent wonder as he placed his hand on her belly. “Are you all right?”

“Fine. A little queasy in the morning sometimes.”

“It’ll pass,” Rafe said confidently.

Caitlyn looked at him askance, “How would
you
know?”

Rafe chuckled, amused by her wide-eyed expression. “One of Corrine’s girls got pregnant, quite by accident. She was sick in the morning for a couple of months.” Rafe shrugged. “Corrine said it was pretty common.”

“I suppose the madam of a whorehouse would know such things,” Caitlyn muttered. She looked at Rafe, a terrible thought forming in her mind. “You weren’t the… Never mind.”

“No, I wasn’t the father,” Rafe said with a smile. He fluffed the pillows, then pulled Caitlyn down beside him. “Get some rest. I want you to take it easy from now on.”

“I’m fine,” Caitlyn protested.

“You heard me. No more heavy lifting, nothing strenuous. And no more horseback riding.”

“Rafe, I’m not sick, I’m pregnant. And hungry. Wouldn’t you like some dinner?”

Rafe nodded. He was hungry, now that she mentioned it…

Rising, he took her hand and helped her to her feet, his eyes moving over her figure as he tried to imagine how she’d look when her belly was swollen with his child and her breasts were heavy with milk.
A baby,
he mused.
His child.
It was an awesome thought.

Watching her move about the kitchen as she prepared their dinner, he pictured Caitlyn with a baby in her arms. He had no trouble imagining Caty as a mother, but he could not visualize himself as a father. He had never spent much time thinking about kids, his own or anyone else’s.
A child of his own…
he pondered the thought and found it pleasing.

A baby. Perhaps their luck was changing.

Chapter Twenty

There followed a period of peace on the Circle C. Rafe and the men worked hard six days a week. Sundays, everyone rested.

It was on one such quiet Sunday that Caitlyn persuaded Rafe to go to church with her.

The members of the congregation did a double take as Rafe and Caitlyn entered the chapel. Rafe’s expression was impassive, his eyes cold. Caitlyn kept her head up, her hand on Rafe’s arm, as they walked down the narrow aisle. Rafe stopped at the first empty pew and allowed Caitlyn to pass in ahead of him. He was aware of the long curious looks the townspeople sent his way, of the low, murmuring voices that rose around him.

“Indian.”

“…breed doing here?”

“The nerve…”

Caitlyn squeezed Rafe’s hand.
It doesn’t matter,
her smile assured him.
I
love you.

Rafe didn’t hear much of the Reverend Wilson’s sermon, nor did he know that the minister changed his text when he saw Rafe enter the chapel. His original sermon, which was intended to urge his parishioners to be more generous in their tithing, was put aside in favor of the topic of tolerance and love.

Rafe grunted softly as the reverend admonished the congregation to be tolerant of those who were different, to be careful of whom they judged, and to remember that they, too, would one day be judged.

They were leaving the church when Caitlyn saw Abner Wylie riding down the street toward them. She heard Rafe mutter an oath and knew that he, too, had seen Abner.

Abner’s gaze nested on Caitlyn, his expression insolent. So, she had the breed going to church now, he thought derisively. Maybe she’d make a good Christian out of the bastard, he mused. Then, when the time came, she could give him a good Christian burial.

Caitlyn felt Rafe’s arm grow rigid beneath her hand as Abner continued to stare at her, his pale blue eyes insultingly bold.

“Rafe.” Her voice reflected her anxiety as he placed his hand on the butt of his Colt.

“Stay out of this, Caitlyn. This is between Abner and me.”

“You promised to leave him alone, remember?”

“I remember.”

Abner grinned at Caitlyn’s worried countenance. Soon, he thought, pleased, soon she’d be a widow.

Rafe was quiet on the way back to the ranch. Abner Wylie needed killing, the sooner the better.

Caitlyn didn’t like the hard look in Rafe’s eyes, but she wisely kept quiet, knowing anything she said would only make matters worse.

After lunch, she went down to the corral with a handful of carrots. Red whickered softly at her approach and she smiled, pleased, as he trotted toward her. His leg had healed beautifully and she could hardly wait to ride him again. Unfortunately, that would not be for some time, since Rafe had forbidden her to ride the bay until after the baby was born. Until then, Paulie had been put in charge of exercising Red.

She gave the stallion a couple of carrots, and then went to see Black Wind. Rafe had bred Red to the mare soon after their return to the ranch. The foal would be born the following May.

Black Wind pranced up to the fence, the filly at her heels. They were very much alike, the foal being a smaller version of the mare.

Rafe came to stand beside Caitlyn as she offered Black Wind a carrot.

“We haven’t named the filly yet,” he remarked. “Have you got any ideas?”

Caitlyn frowned thoughtfully as she scratched the filly between her ears. “I’ve been calling her Windy.”

“Windy,” Rafe repeated as he patted the filly’s neck. “I like that.”

Caitlyn gave the mare the last carrot and a final pat on the neck, and then took Rafe’s hand in hers. “What are we going to do about the loan?” she asked, hating to bring up such a depressing topic.

“I’m not sure.”

“It’s due in another two months. Where are we going to get six thousand dollars in such a short time?”

“I thought I’d try my luck at Frenchy’s,” Rafe said, knowing she wouldn’t like that idea.

“Gambling?”

“I won’t be gambling,” Rafe pointed out dryly.

Caitlyn shook her head vigorously. “No, Rafe, that would be like stealing and you’d be taking it from our neighbors.” She shook her head again. “There has to be another way.”

“How about if I just play the cards I’m dealt?”

“Do you think you could win six thousand dollars in time to pay off the loan?”

“Not in a town this size. But I might be able to win enough to pay the interest and persuade the bank to extend the loan for another year.”

“All right, Rafe, if you think that’s best.”

“Don’t frown, Caty. I won’t cheat, I promise.”

* * * * *

The wagon was black, covered by a dusty white canvas. Bold red letters proclaimed to one and all that if Heath Sharkey didn’t have it, it hadn’t been invented yet.

Caitlyn listened as Mr. Sharkey listed his goods and extolled the merits of his merchandise, but her attention was focused on the long-legged chestnut mare tethered to the back of the wagon rather than the cutlery he was trying to sell her.

“Tell me, Mr. Sharkey,” Caitlyn said when he finally reached the end of his sales pitch, “is the chestnut mare for sale?”

“The mare?” Sharkey said, frowning. “Oh, the chestnut. You have a good eye for horseflesh, ma’am. She’s prime.”

“Yes. Is she for sale?”

“Well, now, ma’am, it’s been my experience that everything’s for sale, if the price is right.”

“How much do you want for her?”

“One hundred dollars,” Sharkey said without hesitation. “She’s a fine thoroughbred. Bought her in Kentucky, I did.”

“A hundred dollars,” Caitlyn murmured.

“And worth every cent.”

Caitlyn tapped her foot. A hundred dollars was a high price. Horses were plentiful in the West and usually sold for much less. “Would you take twenty dollars and another horse in trade?”

Heath Sharkey shook his head. “I don’t know…” He bit back a smile. The chestnut was beautiful, but she’d never been ridden. It was Sharkey’s opinion that she
couldn’t
be ridden, for she had a wild streak a mile wide. He’d been trying to unload the mare since he left Kentucky, only no one would buy the beast once they tried to ride her.

“I can’t afford more than twenty dollars,” Caitlyn remarked.

Sharkey grinned. “Well, you caught me in a weak moment, ma’am. Throw in a cup of coffee, and it’s a deal.”

When Rafe rode in from the range that evening, he found Caitlyn standing outside the north corral, her arms folded on the top rail, her eyes bright as she watched a leggy chestnut mare prance back and forth.

“Where the hell did that come from?” Rafe asked.

“I bought her.”

“Bought her? From whom?”

“A traveling salesman. Isn’t she beautiful? Her name’s Delight.”

“How much?”

“Twenty dollars,” Caitlyn admitted. “And one of our horses.”

“Twenty dollars, huh?” Rafe remarked. “Well, let’s see if she’s worth it.”

Caitlyn wasn’t smiling a half an hour later. Rafe’s expression was one of frustration as he tried again and again to saddle the mare, but she fought wildly, her eyes white with terror. She calmed the minute he put the saddle down, but as soon as he picked it up again, she began to buck and strike, her ears laid flat, her teeth bared.

“She’s been abused,” he said later that night at dinner. “We might be able to break her with a lot of time and patience.”

“I guess I shouldn’t have bought her without asking you first,” Caitlyn said.

Rafe shrugged. “If Red likes her, it’ll be worth it. She’s a beautiful animal. We’ll put her in with Red next week. That’ll give her a chance to settle in and get used to her new surroundings.”

As it turned out, Red and the mare took to each other right off. Paulie, Caitlyn, and Rafe watched from a discreet distance while the stallion courted the mare, marveling at the beauty of the mating ritual.

Each night after dinner, Rafe spent a few minutes with the chestnut, talking to her, getting to know her. He left a brightly colored saddle blanket over the top rail of the corral, and a worn saddle near her feed bin.

After several days, he began to carry the blanket into the corral with him until the mare no longer shied away from it.

Next, he placed the blanket on the mare’s back. He didn’t scold her when she shook it off, only picked it up and put it on her back again. And again. And again, until she realized it wasn’t going to hurt her.

The saddle came next. He let the mare sniff it, then he placed it on her back and cinched it lightly. He talked to her all the while, until he could saddle and unsaddle her without any trouble. Only then did he try to ride the mare. The chestnut bucked a couple of times, for pride’s sake, Rafe said, and then she settled down and walked quietly around the corral.

Caitlyn clapped her hands, glad that no one else had taken the time to gentle the chestnut mare, that no one but Rafe had realized that patience and perseverance were better than force and harsh words.

Hand in hand, Rafe and Caitlyn walked back to the house. Life was good, Caitlyn thought as she rested one hand over her belly. They had a fine stallion, two good mares, and the filly. Next year, they would have two more foals. Rafe had won enough money playing poker—honest poker, he had assured her—to pay the interest on their loan. The bank manager, Mr. Walden, had agreed to extend the loan for another year. He had frowned when he signed the extension, remarking that someone had been making inquiries about the state of the Circle C loan. He hadn’t recognized the man interested in buying up the loan, Mr. Walden had said, but he’d be sure to get the man’s name if he showed up again.

Yes, she thought, life was good and only promised to get better.