Once an Outlaw (15 page)

“What is she like?” Emily couldn’t resist asking. There was no mistaking the admiration in his face when
he spoke of Caitlin Barclay. An odd prick of jealousy assailed her. What was wrong with her?

“Caitlin’s a looker. Blonde. Elegant. She was raised in Philadelphia—the type at home in the finest drawing rooms—but she’s taken to Cloud Ranch like no greenhorn you ever saw. For all of her fancy manners, she’s feisty as hell. A little bit like you, in that respect,” he added suddenly, his gaze settling on her.

“Well, if you’re looking for someone like her to marry, I don’t think you’re going to find her in Lonesome. At least, I haven’t met anyone who sounds so … perfect.”

She spoke offhandedly but heard the vinegar in her voice too late. Clint shot her a quizzical look. “I didn’t say she was perfect,” he remarked. “I said she was perfect for Wade.”

“And what kind of girl would be perfect for you, Sheriff Barclay?” The words flew out of her mouth before she even realized what she’d said. She saw his eyes narrow on her and darken to the color of a stormy sea.

He took a step toward her. Emily tensed.

Another step. She had to force herself to remain perfectly still upon the cot, to resist the temptation to edge away from him. Her heart was beating so fast she could barely catch her breath.

Clint Barclay across the room was distraction enough—but up close, less than two feet away, well, she thought weakly as he paused directly before her, that was too close for comfort.

He loomed over her, seeming to fill the tiny low-ceilinged shack with his height and broad shoulders. She gulped as she saw that the blue chambray shirt that encased his shoulders was open enough at the neck to show the dark curling hair on his chest. And what an impressive
chest it was: taut, muscular, powerful—like all the rest of him, she thought on a gulp.

She tried to tell herself that he was only a man, like any other. But something about him didn’t seem like any other man. She’d never felt this drawn to any other man or been so fascinated by the way dark hair could tumble over a brow or by a deep, cool, steady voice. As he watched her intently in the flickering firelight and seemed to be considering his next words, she felt her breath get all caught up in her throat. Those searing eyes pierced her face as the firelight danced crazily—and so did her heart.

IRST OFF
, I
RECKON THERE’S NO GIRL
who’s perfect for me,” Clint Barclay said flatly. He made it sound like a warning, Emily thought, a chill seeping into her chest. “I told you—I’m not the marrying type.”

“So you did,” Emily acknowledged with a cool little nod.

“I’m not even the romantic type,” he added his lip curling, “and sure as hell not the settle-down-by-a-fire-and-show-me-the-knit-booties type.”

His powerful shoulders lifted in a shrug. “Matter of fact, until I took this job in Lonesome I was always on the move—nearly as much as Nick. Neither one of us has ever stayed put in one town for long.”

“So … why Lonesome?” Emily asked sliding back just far enough on the cot so that her back was against the wall. The more distance between them, the better, that’s what she figured.

In the dancing orange flames of the fire, he shrugged again. His bronzed face looked hard and unreadable. And mesmerizing as hell.

“By the time I cleaned out the Duggan gang, I’d grown to like Lonesome and a lot of the folks here. They asked
me to stay—offered me a nice pile of money to continue protecting the town, so I did.”

He stepped back, folded his tall frame back down on the chair again, his long legs stretched out before him, and eyed her with cool amusement. “But as for marrying someone, getting stuck in one place forever… hell, no. That’s not for me. I’ll stay in Lonesome for the time being, as long as I’m needed and folks still want me … but that’s the most kind of a promise I’m prepared to make.”

Why is he telling me all this?
Emily wondered. He was going to great pains to make his position on marriage, on promises and commitments, unmistakably clear …

She noticed then that he was studying her thoughtfully. “But I reckon that doesn’t really answer your question, does it? The truth is, no one girl would be perfect for me … and sure as hell not one who set her cap for me and chased me around like a dog trying to herd a stray calf.” He gave a snort of laughter, then his gaze rested on her and his eyes gleamed.

He gave her a long, slow look, taking in her still-damp tumbling curls, the blanket draped around her narrow shoulders, the sculptured beauty of her face—studying her with such thoroughness that Emily blushed.

“But if I wanted to find the perfect woman—which I don’t—I reckon she’d have dark hair, Miss Spoon. Dark like the night.”

“Oh … w-would she?”

He grinned, a heartrending grin, and suddenly came off the chair in a smooth easy movement that reminded her of a wildcat coiling to spring. To her consternation, he settled himself beside her on the cot and reached out toward her. His fingers closed over a handful of those loosely falling curls. “Her hair would be thick and heavy, and soft like velvet. The kind of hair a man likes to touch
and spread out on the pillow, and breathe in the scent of it.”

He drew his hand slowly, and ever so gently, through the lush strands of her hair. Emily wanted to tell him to stop, but her voice wasn’t working properly and she couldn’t say a word.

“And,” Clint continued, his grin deepening as his gaze flickered over her expressive face, “I’m finding that I’m partial to a woman with gray eyes. They’re unusual. Sort of mysterious. Especially the ones that look bright as silver one minute and soft as a sunrise mist the next.”

He moved almost imperceptibly closer to her, locking his gaze on hers. Emily felt as if she were drowning in the hot blue depths of his glance.

“You … you don’t say,” she managed to murmur in an even tone.

“Yep. And if she happens to be pretty good at shooting snakes and sewing the prettiest dresses this side of the Rockies… now that kind of a girl would be just about irresistible.”

He leaned toward her, his hand closing lightly around her nape and drawing her toward him.

“Is that all?” Emily’s heart was racing, but she had a nonchalant expression pinned to her face.

“Well, if her kisses tasted sweeter than elderberry wine and she had a temper hotter than fire, then—”

“And if she recognizes sweet talk when she hears it and knows it’s all chicken poop and hogwash?”

Emily’s cold tone and contemptuous words stopped him flat, his mouth hovering only a scant inch from hers. She saw his gaze narrow as she jerked back away from him and smacked both of her hands onto his chest to hold him off. Meeting his eyes, her own eyes glittered like polished bullets.

“How much of a fool do you think I am?”

To her surprise, Clint chuckled. “You’re obviously nobody’s fool, Emily—”

“Miss Spoon to you.”

“Miss Spoon,” he said softly, laughter in his eyes. “The fact is, I just thought we might want to pass the time till the storm ends in as pleasant a manner as possible. Like we did last night—on the porch.” He shot her another thunderbolt of a smile and leaned forward, but Emily swallowed hard, then shoved him back.

“When hell freezes,” she retorted with an effort.

“Now, what kind of a way is that to talk?” He feigned a hurt expression. “After I risked my neck in the storm to come out here and rescue you—”

“That’s your job, remember. To help people,” she fired back, her eyes flashing. “Now get away from me before I…I…”

“Yes? Before you what?”

Before I fall into your arms like an addlepated fool
, she thought desperately.

“Before I scream!”

“Scream away. We’re not exactly in the center of town,” he pointed out with a grin. “Who’s going to hear?

“Damn you!” she exclaimed, scooting to the far end of the cot.

“You sure that’s what you want?” Clint asked.

She wasn’t at all sure, but suddenly she understood exactly what
he
wanted. Now she knew what all that talk about never settling down had meant before. This so-called honorable lawman was making sure she didn’t get the wrong idea—that she didn’t mistake his intentions.

Oh, he wouldn’t mind kissing her, touching her, even making love to her here in this ramshackle old shack, just
so long as she understood it didn’t
mean
anything. Just so long as she didn’t
expect
anything of him, like that he might start to
court
her, or think about
marrying
her or fall in
love
with her.

Fury and sharp bitter pain plunged like a knife through her heart.

What did you expect
, she thought through the ache in her chest.
Roses and champagne, wedding cake and a golden ring?

Not for Jake Spoon’s niece… not for a girl who’d never set foot in a fancy drawing room like Caitlin Barclay must have known, except to dust it and sweep it…

“It’s a long ways till sunrise,” Clint continued softly, “and so I thought—”

“You thought you’d amuse yourself by flirting with me and … and kissing me.” Emily glared at him. “Because I’m the only woman within fifty miles who isn’t trying to drag you down the aisle to the altar—and never would!”

He had the nerve to grin again. God help her.

“You’re right,” he said calmly. “I know for a fact you’d rather jump off a cliff than marry a sheriff. So I’m safe with you. And you’re safe with me. Look at it this way, Emily, no respectable lawman would ever marry into an outlaw family. So …”

“So I asked you to move away from me.”

“And I’m asking you—what’s the harm in us getting to know each other a little better?” Clint eyed her accusingly. “You started it the other night, remember? Maybe sharing one more kiss—possibly two—will settle this… hell, this unfinished business… between us.” His voice grew rough. “You feel it too, don’t you?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

But it was a lie. She did feel something—a tug, a pull, an electricity. She’d felt it from the start, but so much more so when his lips had claimed hers.

“I’ll make a deal with you—no strings, no promises, and I won’t tell the rest of your family if you don’t,” Clint added with a husky chuckle that made her tingle.

“Why would I possibly want to kiss you again?” Somehow she managed to sound composed, even disdainful, even though a heated excitement was pulsing through her. “I… I only did it once because John Armstrong was about to recognize me—”

“You did it more than once. I have a hunch you liked it.”

“You arrogant, egotistical—”

“Come here, Emily.”

“Miss—”

“Spoon. I know,” he finished for her, smiling amusedly into her eyes. He edged closer to her, and she suddenly found herself at the top end of the cot, wedged between him and the wall. He was leaning across her, giving her that heart-stoppingly masculine grin, stroking his hand through her hair. “I don’t usually have to beg for kisses.”

“I don’t usually kiss men I don’t even like.”

“That’s just the point,” he said, the gleam in his eyes intensifying. He angled in closer and lowered his head close to hers. Once more their lips were only inches apart. Once more Emily felt her breath catching in her throat.

“I think you do like me. And the hell of it is, I like you. It doesn’t make any sense, but not much does in this world sometimes.”

No, it didn’t make sense. But it was true, Emily thought in wonder. She did like him. How? Why? She wanted to hate him, but instead she found herself being
drawn into the charm of a lazy smile, of those keenly beautiful eyes, of a gentleness and a decency she sensed beneath the brawn and the bravery.

“Well.” She took a deep breath, stunned by her own thoughts, by the wild urges spinning through her. “You did rescue me from the storm, so … I’ll grant you one kiss and only one,” she said in a rush. How prim she sounded. Then she just couldn’t stand it any longer. She grabbed the front of his shirt and yanked him toward her, placing her lips upon his.

She’d meant it to be a quick kiss, over and done with in a hurry because it made her feel guilty to be doing it at all, but something changed as her mouth touched his and she found herself lost in the kiss, hopelessly, dizzily lost. Her lips clung to his, and the sweetest sensations burst through her, layered by darker, more intriguing ones. And when she at last summoned the will to pull back, Clint Barclay had other ideas and before she knew it, his arms were around her and he was kissing her with a single-minded possessiveness that stirred a primal response deep in her very core. He kissed her as if he couldn’t get enough and never wanted to stop, and Emily knew nothing else but that she didn’t want him to …

A moan escaped her lips as a dazzling fire surged through her. She felt dizzy and warm. Maybe she had a fever, Emily thought dazedly. Or maybe she just liked kissing Clint Barclay more than she’d ever liked anything in her entire life …

He shifted position suddenly and the next thing she knew she was yanked down onto the cot and he was sliding his body over hers, and somehow or other he managed not to lift his mouth from hers for an instant.

She didn’t know why but an absurd rush of pleasure swept through her and she actually slid her arms around
his neck. Dimly she wondered why she had done that, but then she forgot all about it as Clint’s firm mouth began to search hers even more hungrily and his tongue slipped inside her mouth, igniting a musky fire. Heat, need, desire exploded within her and Emily forgot the storm, forgot the night, forgot everything but the exquisite sensations gliding through her as Clint Barclay’s muscled frame lay upon her, as his hands stroked her face, her throat, and his mouth laid possessive claim to hers. Time fell away, there was only the moment, the bliss, the passion jolting between them, and Emily held him to her with a ferocity she had not known she possessed, her hands sliding down his shoulders, drawing him closer, breathing him in, wanting to somehow absorb all of this dark, gentle lawman into her very soul.

When she thought she would faint from lack of air, he suddenly lifted his head and she stared dazedly into his eyes. “That was … much more … than just one kiss,” she gasped. “You cheated.”

“You liked it.”

Breathlessly she felt herself studying those firm, warm lips as if hypnotized. “Oh,” she murmured, “how could you tell?”

He laughed and she did too. She’d never felt so warm, so close to anyone, so happy, she thought in shock.
So kissed
.