Keegan's Lady (47 page)

"I know that."

Ace placed a hand on her shoulder. "I admire you for trying to spare your brother by keeping the truth from him. But I have to say, it wasn't very wise. What if your father had tried to do the same thing again?"

"If Pa had tried to send Patrick away on another cattle drive, I would have had no choice but to tell him. Luckily, it never came to that. The ranch began to prosper a little, and money was never quite so scarce again. As long as our father had plenty of whiskey, he was content to drink himself stupid and knock us around occasionally."

"More than occasionally, from the sound of it."

"Yes," she admitted, and then went on to share bits and pieces of her memories.

By the time she wound down, Ace had an entirely different picture of Patrick O'Shannessy. "Your brother sounds like quite the fellow. No wonder you love him so."

"He'd give up his life for me," she whispered. "He took more beatings to protect me than I can count on all my fingers and toes."

 "Would your father have done the same? Would he have taken a beating to spare someone he loved, Caitlin?"

She gave a bitter laugh. "My father? He never loved anyone but himself, so it's a moot question."
"Then Patrick is nothing like him, is he? Not in all the ways that really count. He can't handle his liquor, and he acts like an ass when he's drunk, but essentially he's nothing like your father."

She dug her elbows into his chest to push up and look him directly in the eye. "What are you saying?"

Ace traced the contours of her sweet, tear-streaked countenance with a fingertip, loving her in a way he wouldn't have believed possible two months ago. He felt his manhood harden at the pressure of her hips against him and willed the erection away. Not now. It felt so good, having her lie on top of him. Not seeing any fear in her eyes. He didn't want to spoil it.

"Bad seed, remember? There's no such thing, Caitlin. Patrick is no more tainted by the O'Shannessy blood in his veins than you are." He rubbed his thumb across her slightly swollen mouth. "Another thing, Mrs. Keegan. I think your red hair is beautiful. If you give me a half-dozen redheaded babies, I'll count myself one hell of a lucky man."

She shifted her hips slightly, her eyes going wide with startlement. "I think I'd better get up."
Realizing that she'd felt his sudden hardness, Ace looped an arm around her waist to anchor her.

"Don't even think about it."

"But I—"

"I'm not going to hurt you, Caitlin. It feels nice having you against me, that's all. My body, unlike my brain, doesn't realize this is an inappropriate moment to react."

 She nibbled her bottom lip. "Are you certain?"

"Trust me," he said silkily. "I get this way practically every time I get close to you. I smell your hair or feel your softness, and the next thing I know, I want you."

"Oh, dear." She pushed harder with her elbows, levering her torso upward and swinging a knee to the ground. "I really think I'd better—"

 "Caitlin, stay put," he said firmly. "Wanting you and doing something about it are two different things. Sooner or later, you have to learn to trust me. There's no time like the present."
"Tomorrow might be better."

He laughed in spite of himself. As his mirth ebbed, he grew solemn and searched her worried gaze.

"What is it you're so afraid may happen, Caitlin? Can you tell me that? What was the first thought that came into your mind a second ago when you felt my hardness?"

 "That you might hurt me."

"So your greatest fear of making love is that I'll cause you pain. Is that right?"

She averted her gaze. "Mostly, yes."

He caught a tendril at her temple and let it curl around his finger. "Caitlin, how much do you love me?"

The question itself was a gamble. A short time ago, she'd vehemently denied even feeling the emotion and might very well do so again. To admit to loving was to open one's self up to hurt, to make one's self vulnerable. He wasn't sure she was capable of doing that.

"A lot," she said in a hollow little voice.

It wasn't exactly the most poetic avowal of love he'd ever heard, but to Ace, knowing how dearly the admission cost her, it was beautiful. A lot. As high as the mountains? No. As deep as the sea? No. Just a lot. But for him, it was enough.

 "Do you love me enough to trust me?" he asked her softly.

She stirred slightly. A dimwitted young woman, she wasn't. Not even in her present state, which was probably half numb. She knew a danger signal when she felt one. "I'm trusting you right now."

He bit back a smile. The wariness in her gaze was unmistakable, and he knew she'd like nothing better than to put a safe distance between them. "I guess you are, at that. I'm just hoping you'll trust me a bit further."

"How do you mean?"

He tightened his hand on her shoulder. Through the worn cloth of her dress, he could feel the strap of her chemise, the ball of her shoulder beneath his thumb, the network of feminine muscle that shielded the bone of her upper arm. A bone that he could undoubtedly snap with the crush of his grip. He took a deep breath.

"I'm just thinking about striking another little bargain with you," he said softly, slowly, so the words could sink into her mind and begin to make sense before he went on. "How would you feel if I were to swear that I'll never touch you in any way that you don't wish for me to?"

A measure of tension left her body. "Never?" she asked, the hopeful note in her voice unmistakable.

Ace smiled again, ruefully. "Never," he assured her.

"I guess that would be—" She broke off, her eyes shimmering and filled with questions. "You would do that?"

"Absolutely."

"You swear it?"

"In return for a promise from you, yes, I'll swear it."

A sudden flicker of distrust darkened her eyes to a gunmetal blue. She had a right to feel wary, Ace knew, but he mourned the fact, even so. "What kind of promise?"

"An all-inclusive one, I'm afraid. It won't be an easy promise for you to make, and it will probably be even harder for you to keep."

"What?"

Ace swallowed. Here went nothing. "I want you to promise me you'll never object or ask me not to touch you in a particular way unless it brings you pain. If it does, I'll stop. No questions, no arguments. I'll just stop and never touch you like that again."

Her heartbeat escalated. He could feel the rapid thrum of her pulse beneath his fingertips, against his ribs, across his hips. "I-I don't know. I don't really—"

"Don't answer off the top of your head," he warned. "It's more than most husbands offer, for one. For another, it's a damned good deal, if you'll just think about it. A guarantee from me that I'll never, under any circumstances, hurt you. You just said that's what frightens you most, the thought of being hurt."

"It is. The main thing, anyway."

"Well, then?"

She pushed up a bit more, supporting more of her weight on her elbows. "If—I promise that, you'll swear never to hurt me? Not even a teeny bit? Not even for a second?"

Ace felt almost guilty. He knew damned well that her memory of Dublin's attack served her well. Probably acutely so. The thing that undoubtedly loomed most frighteningly in her mind was the pain the bastard had inflicted. A man couldn't rape a struggling woman without his every touch being brutal. She clearly believed she would suffer the same abuse again if she allowed her husband liberties with her body. Little did she know that nothing, not even Ace's invasive possession of her, was likely to cause her any discomfort.

In short, he was tricking her, and later, when it was too late, she would undoubtedly realize it. Hopefully, by that time, he would also have had a chance to prove to her that she had nothing to fear from being in his arms.

"Caitlin, I'm willing to swear on my very life—hell, I'll even swear it on the Bible—that I will do nothing, absolutely nothing, that will cause you so much as a twinge of discomfort. Never. And if, by some accident, I start to, all you'll have to do is tell me and I'll stop instantly."

The incredulity in her eyes made his throat tighten. What in God's name had the poor girl been imagining he might do to her?

She took a deep, shaky breath. "I think I'd like it better if you'd simply agree not to touch me at all. At least for a while."

Ace gulped back a chuckle. Simply? She had no idea. "That isn't an option, honey. That's basically what we've been doing this last month, and just look at you. You're a bundle of nerves. And I've been snapping my brothers' heads off every time they look crosswise at me. We can't go on like this. And if you'll think about it, I'm sure you wouldn't want to. As long as I never hurt you, what have you got to lose, hm?"

She fell silent for a while, clearly weighing her options, which were few. "All right," she finally said. "We have a deal."

Ace nearly whooped for joy. Not a wise idea. Instead he kept his expression suitably solemn and said, "You'll never regret it. I swear that as well."

***

Golden lantern light illuminated the windows of the house, beckoning to Ace like beacons in a safe harbor as he carried Caitlin across the yard. Exhaustion had finally taken its toll on her about halfway home, and he'd been left with little choice but to carry her. Luckily, she didn't weigh much.

At some point along the way, she'd fallen asleep. Her head lolled on his shoulder. One of her arms dangled limply at his side. He figured it was just as well. This way, she wouldn't have to face his brothers and could wait until morning to apologize for the mess she'd made of the house.

His brothers. Sanity awaited him inside. For the first time in his life, the darkness seemed evil to Ace—a cold, cloying dimness filled with shifting, mocking shadows.

When Ace kicked open the front door, he could smell only the faintest traces of smoke. With a quick glance at the room, he saw that the water and spilled stew had been mopped up. His brothers, who were sitting at the table, froze in various positions, their startled, questioning gazes locked on the woman in his arms. Joseph was the first to finally move.

"What the hell happened?" He jumped up from the bench and strode toward Ace. "Did she fall? What?"

Ace shook his head slightly, trying to say with his eyes what he couldn't with words. Joseph's steps faltered, and he shot another look at Caitlin, his expression growing more concerned. Ace moved past him toward the hallway. There would be time later to answer their questions.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO