The Lady and the Lawman (27 page)

After
carrying her toward his horse, he laid her down in a sunny spot so he
could grab a blanket from his saddle bag. He wrapped the blanket
around her and pulled her into his lap and rubbed her arms, trying to
get the warmth to seep in, hoping her shivering would stop. She was
so soft, so right in his grasp he couldn’t help but kiss the top of
her damp head.

Hopefully
he’d found her in time to have her in his arms for the rest of his
life. The shivering stopped quickly enough and she started to thrash,
trying to pull the blankets away. “No, get away from me. Get your
hands off me, you filthy animal!” Maggie shouted and tried to break
free.

“
Maggie!”
He shook her, the blanket coming loose from her shoulders. “Maggie,
wake up. It’s me, Grant.”

Finally,
she stopped her attack and opened her eyes.

“
Maggie.”
His words were desperate even to his ears. He’d come so close to
losing her and it had all been his fault. He could only imagine what
she’d been through and his guilt only became worse.

“
Grant!”
She tried to wriggle from his lap. “The man, he’ll find me!”

“
No,
he won’t. Don’t worry.” He squeezed her shoulders. “Let me
hold you for a minute.” He was so relieved she was all right, he
didn’t want to let go.

“
He’ll
kill us!”

He
pulled the blanket from around her and let her stand. Her legs could
barely support her so he held her to his side. Her clothes were
practically dry and the thin material of her blouse and pants no
longer clung to her body.

“
He’s
dead.”

“
He...but...how?”

“
You
struggled with him?”

She
looked at him and nodded. “He was strangling me.”

Strangling?
Hell. His eyes darted to her neck. There, he found red and purple
marks. He tried to remain calm, even though he could hear the edge of
steel in his voice. “Then what happened?”

Closing
her eyes to the memories, she continued, “I thought I was going to
die. I felt a big rock on the ground next to me and I swung it at his
head. All of a sudden he stopped and blood poured from his temple.”

He
moved to stand in front of her, reminded once again by her small
size, how fragile she was. He lifted her chin with his hand, and her
eyes opened to look into his. Her skin was soft and warm, not cold
anymore. In fact, his fingertips were singed by the mere contact.

“
Yes,
he had a huge gash on the side of his head. After you jumped in the
creek, he must have passed out and fell into the water. He drowned.”

Her
eyes closed once again, and he couldn’t tell what she felt from
that news.

He
left her in order to retrieve food from his saddle bag. “You must
be starving. Eat this.”

Greedily,
she ate the bread and cheese. He handed her his canteen and she drank
deeply. “How did you find me?”

She’d
switched topics, and he was glad. “It wasn’t easy.” Thinking
about all she’d put him through, he continued, his voice heated,
“Woman, I should—”

She
threw his canteen at him, turned and started walking away, her arms
crossed over her chest.

“
Maggie,
wait!” He reached out for her,
grabbing onto n
othing
but air. She collapsed in a heap at his feet. Rushing to her, he
knelt and pulled her into his arms, stroking her damp hair back from
her face. Her complexion was ghostly pale and that scared him.

“
Maggie!
Wake up now!” He shook her a little, not much, afraid she might
break like a wounded bird. As he planted kisses across her cool brow,
she started to stir.

Her
eyes fluttered open and recognition quickly flickered in her eyes.
“What—”

“
Shh,
don’t talk, sweetheart.” His heart began to slow, and he finally
exhaled. “You've been through enough. I've got you. You can give
your fears to me.”

They
sat together, he held her close and watched the sun creep higher in
the sky. With it came the warmth, and he could feel it seeping into
her chilled bones. As she warmed, she began to move, her body in
perfect alignment with his, taunting him. Sweat beaded on his
forehead, and he wasn’t sure it was from the sun.

He’d
come close to losing her. Too close. It hurt deep down, in a space
cold and empty near his heart. The marks on her were hideous. Her
fingers were scraped and nicked, and her neck was red and purple from
the bastard’s death grasp. His hand caressed the marred skin.

Looking
up at him, her head resting against his shoulder, Maggie asked,
“Why?” Her voice wavered as if she was going to cry.

He
understood the question and knew it had deeper meaning. There were
many ‘why’s’ he had to answer for. Taking a deep breath, it was
time to come clean. With himself, with her.

“
I
was mad.”

“
You
found me because you were mad?” She looked confused.

He
shook his head. “No, I was mad you went to Tom for help, not me.”

“
But—”

He
held up his hand to stop her. “I was mad Hunt hit you and I didn’t
protect you. I was mad at myself for not being there for you. And
when you went to Tom, it only confirmed my failure. What kind of
husband could I be if I let my wife get hurt?”

She
lifted her hand to touch his cheek. W
as
his vulnerability that visible on his face? He held her wrist, his
thumb stroking her pulse point. “Because of my foolishness, I put
you in greater danger.” His hand moved to her cheek. She leaned
into the curve of his palm and closed her eyes.

“
What
did he do to you?” He asked desperately, frantically, as if he
would die if she said what was ultimately possible. He pulled back
and looked into her eyes. “You can tell me...if you're ready.”

“
All
right,” she said quietly. “On the way home. I’d really like to
go home now. With you.”

The
words sounded wonderful to him.
Home.
She’d somehow forgiven him—even with everything that had happened
to her in the past two days—and accepted him as her husband. Relief
flooded him. He wanted to pull her into his arms and never let go, to
kiss her and....

“
We'll
go to the ranch and tell Tom you’re all right, then go home.”

***

Grant
spent the long ride back listening to Maggie detail what the man had
done with her. He tried to remain calm, keeping his horse to a
canter, but it was difficult. He knew the man was dead, but he wanted
to kill him all over again. The bump on her head was not too big, and
she said it didn’t hurt, however he figured it had to pain her
something fierce. Her wrists were raw once again, but overall, she
appeared fine. Considering she was almost killed. Twice.

He
released a breath. Once finished, she fell quiet for the remainder of
the ride, allowing his thoughts to shift to Maggie instead of her
dead kidnapper.

She
appeared fine after her brush with the cold water. Her pants, once
soaking wet, were now molded to her trim legs. The motion of the
horse rocked her hips in a sensuous motion against his rock-hard
erection. He tried thinking of the cow branding that would be
starting soon, but he found his mind veering dangerously back to
Maggie’s curves.

***

They
rode up to Tom's stables several hours later. Grant took Margaret’s
reins from her and led the animals inside. The air was still, cool
and dark. Only the daylight streaming in from the open door lit the
cavernous space. It smelled of dark earth, hay and horses.

“
I’m
not sure where Tom is. Why don't you go inside, get cleaned up then
lie down for a bit. I'll tend to the horses.”

“
I
am tired, but I don't think I can sleep. I'm afraid I'll just see
that man's face again.” She shuddered at the vision in her head.
The man, seething with anger, squeezing her throat.

He
ran a knuckle down her cheek in a soft caress.

“
I'll
hold you when it's time to sleep. No one will harm you then, not even
in your dreams.”

His
tender words made her throat clog with unshed tears. Grant was an
enigma. One minute gruff, the next tender.

“
You
want to stay busy. You must be starved, if I'm hungry. Think you can
make breakfast for us while I get the horses brushed down?”

She
bit her lip. She had no idea how to cook. She'd gone into her kitchen
at home often to visit with Lucy, the cook, but never had any
interest to learn. What would he say if he found out he had a wife
with no wifely skills?

“
All
right, I guess,” she stammered, and turned her indecision into a
smile. She didn't feel reassured and debated what was she going to
make, and how was she going to somehow make it, as she walked to the
house.

***

Grant
brushed down the horses with vigor, working out some of the
frustration with the man who'd tried to kill her. He ran through
everything she'd told him, everything the bastard had done to her.
Like Maggie, his wayward thoughts were not doing him any good. He
felt like punching his fist through a wall in frustration and
unvented anger. Trying to turn his brain away from how close she had
come to death, he forced his thoughts in a more carnal direction, to
the night they'd spent together in the line shack.

Sometime
in the darker hours of that morning, she had worked her way from the
far reaches of the bed to curl her taut body against his. In the
throes of deep sleep she'd nestled into his side, her leg thrown
carelessly over him. He’d tempted himself with touching her,
caressing her soft skin. After what seemed like hours of indecision,
he'd given in. He brushed a ha
nd
over her silky thigh, s
liding
smoothly up and down, discovering the shirt she’d donned had crept
up in her movements. He'd tracked up her leg and all but groaned
aloud. Her hip had been bare, rounding perfectly to her pert behind.
The shirt offering her the decency and modesty she wanted had turned
into a flimsy piece of fabric.

Beads
of sweat had risen on his forehead and he willed himself to move his
hand from her warm flesh. He hadn't been sure if his willpower was
strong enough not to roll her onto her back. He'd wanted to plunge
deep inside of her. When she'd awakened and was stunned, embarrassed,
and aroused by their position, he'd given in and kissed her. Felt her
passion firsthand. Saw it in her flushed skin. Heard it in her little
gasps of pleasure.

He'd
stopped himself from having her, but now, even three days later, he
felt the discomfort of his actions hard and aching between his legs.
Now, she was his wife, and he vowed to make her his once and for all.
He'd almost lost her. He wouldn't again.

Working
up a sweat, he put the animals into their stalls and headed toward
the house for breakfast. Enough time had passed to bring down the
evidence of his erotic thoughts. He met Tom, who was coming from the
corral, on the way. They both stopped in their tracks as they saw
smoke coming from the open doorway of the kitchen. They yelled,
frantic for Maggie as they dashed toward the house. Had she survived
attempted murder only to be killed in a house fire?

They’d
gotten to the steps when she came running out of the doorway holding
a pan with a dishcloth. Its contents were black and smoking. She
threw the burnt object off the porch and it landed in the grass with
a soft thud.

Grant
ran past her into the kitchen but returned moments later, discovering
only thick black smoke belching from the oven. No fire. He looked at
the burned breakfast strewn across the grass. Tom started to laugh,
but Grant sent him a look that squelched it immediately.