Keegan's Lady (52 page)

***

AN HOUR OR SO LATER, ACE WOKE UP. CAITLIN SLEPT ON, her limp body plastered against his, her cheek burrowed against his chest. It took some doing, but Ace managed to stand up with his slumbering wife cradled in his arms. Big problem. He'd never gotten around to shucking his pants. He hobbled over to the bed, feeling like an idiot. There was nothing more undignified than trying to walk, bare-ass naked, with your britches around your ankles. She was definitely a new experience at every turn. Ace Keegan, the debonair gambler, taking baby steps.

As he stripped back the covers and deposited her gently on the bed, her lashes fluttered. Then she opened her eyes, her expression like that of a cat who'd just lapped its fill of cream. Ace grinned. He couldn't help himself. For a girl who'd so studiously avoided the intimate side of marriage, she was sure as hell taking to sex like a duck to water.

"Hi," she said drowsily.

Ace bent to kiss the end of her nose. While his head was lowered, she hooked an arm around his neck. He didn't resist the inviting tug. Lowering himself over her, he tasted the kiss she offered, then suckled the nipple she pressed upward. She made tight fists in his hair again, as if she feared he might try to get away. At this rate, he would probably go bald before he was forty. Not that he gave a shit.

He made love to her again with his boots still on. At some point between foreplay and climax, he drew another astute conclusion. His sweet little wife was a shrieker. He could only hope Joseph was still outside tending the garden. Otherwise, he would hear Caitlin's shrill cries of pleasure and know damned well what was going on behind the locked bedroom door.

Not that he gave a shit.

***

Joseph was not tending the garden when Ace finally exited the bedroom. Nor had he been tending to his own business, judging by the grin he wore when Ace entered the living room. He was sitting at the table, smoking a cigarette and having a cup of coffee, his blue eyes twinkling.

"Howdy."

Ace narrowed an eye. "You could have stepped outside."

"You want me to pitch a tent out there, or what?" He shrugged a muscular shoulder. "Hell, I went out and stayed out for nearly an hour. When I came back, everything was quiet. Then all hell broke loose again." At Ace's growl, he chuckled. "It's raining out there, big brother. I didn't want to catch my death."

"I can only wish. Is the barn leaking or something?"

"No. But it is colder out there than a witch's tit. This is Colorado, remember? At the end of June and the first part of July, Mother Nature still hasn't gotten a firm grip on the idea that it's summer."

Ace took a seat across from him. "One word to Caitlin and you're a dead man."

Joseph chuckled again. "My mama didn't raise me in no barn. I do have some couth." He gestured with his mug. "Want some coffee?"

Ace rubbed a hand over his face and propped an elbow on the table. "We got any blood fortifier around here anywhere?"

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

HEAVEN . . . When Caitlin opened her eyes the following morning, that was her first thought, that she had found her own private corner of heaven. Ace lay beside her, his dark face inches from her own on the pillow. Glistening black hair fell in lazy waves over his high forehead to touch his sharply arched brows. Thick, ebony lashes lay in a feathery sweep on his cheeks. In the wash of morning sunlight that played over his face, she could see the tiny lines that etched his lips, the creases at the corners of his eyes, the faint knot along the bridge of his nose. He was, she decided, as close to being beautiful as a man could get.

Moving her gaze lower, she took stock of his shoulders, which bulged with muscle even in his sleep. Bronzed and with a natural sheen to his skin, he looked as hard and smooth as polished teak. She liked the fact that he wasn't covered from head to toe with lots of body hair. There was a light furring of black across his well-padded chest that tapered to a V at his waist, and his thick forearms were covered with silky hair as well. But otherwise his skin was bare.

And kissable ...

She pushed up on an elbow, wondering what magic this man had worked within her. Two days ago, she wouldn't have been caught dead naked in bed with him. Now she wanted to draw his hands to her body, wanted to feel his silken lips running over her skin, needed to feel the hard length of him pressed against her and into her. She felt like a greedy child who had just gotten her first taste of candy. She wanted more. And more. If he made love to her a million times, it would never be enough.

She rubbed the tip of her nose against his and smiled when he went, "Mmm," in his sleep. The tips of her breasts skimmed his chest. His dark brows drew together in a slight frown. Grinning, she ran her palm down his hard, ridged abdomen to the coarse hair at the apex of his thighs. Her fingertips encountered a rigid, impressively large shaft that sprang upward, eager for her touch.

His lashes lifted. Sleepy brown eyes focused blearily on her face. Then he smiled slightly. "Better watch out, Mrs. Keegan. That might get you."

"Promise?"

He chuckled. "For a girl who didn't want any part of this, you sure have developed a liking."

"It was the same way with liver. When I first tried it, I hated it. Then I tasted it again years later and couldn't I'll enough."

"Are you comparing me with liver?"

"It's my favorite."

He rolled up onto an elbow, flipping her onto her back as he moved. "I'll forgive you, then." Coppery shoulders eclipsed the sunlight streaming through the window as lie bent his head to kiss her. "My favorite is strawberries."

"I'll grow you some next year," she promised.

"You already have," he said as he dipped downward to taste the crest of one breast. "With these to taste every morning, I'll be a happy man."

Caitlin felt heat building within her and arched up to press her body against his. "Make love to me, Ace."

"I am."

"No, I mean now."

"Don't rush me." He switched his attention to her other breast. "My God, I can't believe how sweet you are."

Caitlin closed her eyes on a rush of yearning.

"Keegan!"

The shout from outdoors brought Caitlin's eyes open and Ace's head up. They stared at each other for a moment. Then, together, they said, "Patrick!" She groaned. He cursed. They both flew from the bed, grabbing for their clothes.

"Is it my imagination, or does this seem to be becoming a habit?" he asked as he thrust a leg into his trousers.

"A bad habit," she agreed, dragging on her bloomers. "He has rotten timing, my brother."

Ace finished dressing before she did. Patrick was still yelling. He sounded drunk.

"Wait!" she cried when Ace started to leave the room.

He turned from the door and retraced his steps to the bed, bending to help fasten one of her shoes. "I can handle him, you know."

She nodded. "I'd just prefer to be out there. Do you mind?"

He pushed at her tousled hair and smiled. "Sweetheart, I like having you with me, no matter what."

As she stood up, he checked to make sure she'd fastened all her buttons. She glanced worriedly at the gun resting at his hip. He caught her chin on the edge of his hand.

"One of these days, you're going to start believing me when I tell you something. Trust me, Caitlin. Please?"

Their gazes locked. For a long moment, they simply stood there, ignoring Patrick's shouts, completely lost in each other. Then she smiled. "I do trust you. More than I've ever trusted anyone."

They left the bedroom together, Ace leading the way. At the front door, he paused to wait for her. They stepped out onto the porch side by side, presenting a united front for the first time.

Patrick, typically, was standing in the yard, his long legs spread, his red hair tousled, his eyes wild. He'd been drinking heavily. Caitlin didn't need to smell his breath to know that.

It broke her heart to see him like this. Again. She doubted she would ever be able to accept it. This was the brother she'd once rocked to sleep. The brother whose diapers she'd changed when she was barely out of diapers herself. She'd practically raised him. She definitely loved him. But, more than that, she pitied him. The whiskey worked on him like poison. When he drank, he wasn't Patrick any more, but a madman she didn't know and didn't wish to know.

Maybe it was a weakness in his blood. Or perhaps it was learned behavior, and the alcohol simply provided hin with an excuse. She preferred to believe the first. The Patrick she loved was sweet and gentle and fair. The man he became when he drank was a monster.

"What do you want, Patrick?" she asked.

As he strode in a drunken path toward the porch, he jerked open his shirt and drew out what looked like a bunch of papers. With a violent sweep of his arm, he threw them in the dirt at the bottom of the steps. "I want to show you what a fool he's made out of you! look at them, Caitlin'." He jerked his glittering gaze to Ace. "I broke into Barbary Coast Mortgage last night! I found out some very interesting things, namely that your husband came back here to destroy all the men he thinks killed his stepfather, not to mention their families, you and me included."

Caitlin moved slowly down the steps, her gaze fixed on the drifting sheets of paper and the ornately framed portrait of a young woman that had landed face up on the dirt. For a moment, Caitlin thought it was a likeness to herself, so great was the resemblance. But as she drew closer, she realized the girl was a stranger.

"Oh, yes, that's another thing!" Patrick said with a raucous laugh. "Meet your half-sister, Eden Paxton. Our father's by-blow, sired the night he raped Ace Keegan's mother." He drew several sheets of folded stationery from his shirt pocket and stepped forward to shove them into Caitlin's hands. "Read that letter. It'll pretty much explain everything. It’s from John Parrish, the guy at Barbary Coast Mortgage. Come to find out, he's betrothed to Eden Paxton. Quite a coincidence, right? In it, he breaks the terrible news to her about her parentage. God forbid that she should have come here not knowing she had O'Shannessy blood running through her veins.”

Caitlin glanced down at the letter Patrick had handed her. It was dated the day before, and when she flipped to the last page, she saw that it had never been finished.