Sullivan

by Linda Devlin

  Eden licked her suddenly dry lower lip, but she didn't tell him to stop. These were surely liberties best saved for a husband, but in truth she saw no harm in a little touching and kissing.

  "I'd rather have a little bit of you than nothing at all," Sin whispered. "For as long as we're both here, for as long as we both want it."

  She knew she should climb from this tub and call a halt to this, here and now. Sin's hands on her body were driving her crazy. His kisses were passionate and tender and only made her want more. This had to be difficult for Sin, too. More difficult than for her, since he was, after all, a man.

  But she didn't want to call a halt to what they were doing. She didn't want to give up this moment. Not yet. "Can I touch you, too?" she asked.

  Pain joined the passion in his eyes. "Yes."

  Shy, she touched his cheek and his neck, trailing her fingers over his warm flesh. His hand settled on her hip, and she trailed her fingers down to his chest. She felt his small nipples beneath his shirt, felt him quiver as she raked her hand down his ribs.

  She speared her fingers through his hair. "Why do you wear your hair long?" she whispered. "It's lovely," she added, "but... different."

  "It reminds me of who I am," he said darkly. "Of where I come from. It should remind you, too," he whispered. "I'm a half-breed, Eden, and a mean son of a bitch when I have to be. I don't belong in anybody's world. Not white, not Comanche." He laid a hand in her hair. "I sure as hell don't belong in your life, not even for a little while. You should slap me right now and tell me to get lost."

  Eden's heart warmed as he tried to warn her away. "First of all, I don't believe for a moment that you have a mean bone in your body. Perhaps you've done things that needed to be done, unpleasant, terrible things that you don't speak about." When he opened his mouth to respond she laid a silencing finger over his mouth. "But you're not mean. You're good and noble and..." And I love you. Oh, she couldn't tell him that. Not yet. "And secondly, you belong in whatever world you make for yourself. I'm very glad that at the moment you're in mine." She laid her mouth over his and kissed him deeply. The touch of his hands changed, as he held her tighter than before, and he plunged his tongue into her mouth and took her breath away.

  She couldn't get close enough to him, no matter how she tried. Finally she found a position that satisfied her, her breasts pressed against his chest, one leg hiked up so that she lay comfortable and close to him. The kisses continued unbroken, tongues dancing and reaching, lips coming together and parting just slightly before clamping together again.

  The ache in her grew. Sin moaned into her mouth. She felt her skirt slipping up and up, and then felt Sin's hand against her bare leg. She moaned a mild protest as his fingers crept slowly up her thigh, and at her very center she throbbed.

  He was going to touch her there, and she was so lost in sensation she didn't dare to stop him. She didn't want to stop him.

  A voice from outside their small sanctuary interrupted. "Sullivan?"

  She lifted her head and looked toward the closed door. "Someone's calling you," she said breathlessly.

  "I know," he said, unconcerned.

  From beyond the closed door, a voice called, "Damn it, Sullivan, I know you're in here somewhere. Your horse is still in the stable."

  "It's Cash," Sin said with a dejected sigh as the man cursed and ran up the stairs. They heard his footsteps pounding, almost above their heads. "Don't worry. He won't think to look in here. He'll give up and head back to the saloon when he doesn't find me in my room."

  Moments later Cash ran back down the stairs.

  "He'll head back to the saloon, now," Sin said softly, kissing her again and smiling. "I think this is as long as he's been out of the place in the past six months."

  But Sin was wrong. Cash didn't give up his search and return to his saloon. The door Eden had accidentally kicked shut flew open, and the man in question stared down into the tub with disdain and disappointment on his handsome face.

  He barely gave Eden a glance, but settled his cold dark eyes on Sin's face. "I thought you were leaving this morning," Cash said calmly. "But I see you were detained."

  Eden straightened her clothes, mortified to be caught in such a position. "Mr. Sullivan has agreed to stay a few more days to help me put the hotel in order for Mr. McClure. The poor man's been so ill..."

  Cash lit his eyes on her, and she saw there pure condemnation. It didn't matter that he wore a very nice suit and a ruffled shirt better suited to a dandy than a gunman. With that mustache and small beard and the void in his eyes, again he looked too much like her mental image of the devil. It was the eyes, she decided. She shuddered. There was no warmth there, not one iota.

  "I can see for myself how he's helping you out, ma'am," Cash said crisply. "Are you not aware that your brother will kill Sullivan when he finds out what's been going on?"

  Eden lifted her chin, determined not to be afraid. "Nothing's been going on."

  Cash folded his arms across his chest."And what do you call this?"

  "We were cleaning the tub," she said indignantly.

  The gambler grinned lasciviously. "Well, that's a new name for it."

  "Get out of here, Cash," Sin said softly. "This is none of your concern."

  "None of my concern?" he asked, incredulous. "I didn't watch your back all these years just to see you end up dead because you couldn't keep your hands off a... off a woman."

  "I said," Sin seethed, "get out. Now."

  Cash shook his head in dismay, threw his arms in the air, and stalked away.

  With Sin's help, Eden left the tub and straightened her hair, her skirt, and her blouse. Her heart still beat too fast, but Cash's interruption and accusations had ruined the moment. Just as well. Who knows when they would have stopped, otherwise?

  She was so embarrassed by her response to Sin's touches and kisses, she couldn't make herself look him in the eye. "I really should see to lunch," she said crisply. "Would you check on Mr. McClure for me? See if he needs anything?"

  She spun around and left the small room, not giving him a chance to respond to her question.

  * * *

  He'd never been so tied up in knots he couldn't think straight, but Eden had done it to him, hadn't she? Sullivan considered, for a few long, painful moments, crossing the street, climbing the stairs, and finding a woman, any woman, to ease his pain.

  But he didn't want any woman. He wanted Eden Rourke.

  Cash was right; Jed would kill him. Eden was right; they couldn't lie together. She wasn't a woman who'd give herself to a man without loving him, without expecting a lifetime commitment, and that was something he didn't have to give.

  For the first time in his life he wanted a woman to distraction, wanted a woman so hard he couldn't think of anything else, and damned if it didn't have to be a nice girl like Eden Rourke. Maybe he was fascinated with her because she was so different from every other woman he'd ever met. She was almost too nice, too concerned with those around her, as if it were her duty to be caretaker to the world. She was also naive, and tender, and dammit, what kind of woman took in every orphan she ran across?

  He wanted her more than he'd ever wanted anyone or anything. Tangled in the tub, her body pressed to his, he'd felt himself almost spiraling out of control. Almost. He would die before he forced her, before he hurt her. Damn it, he would not be like the Comanche renegade who'd raped his mother and hung for it before Fiona Sullivan had known she carried a child.

  Sullivan wondered, as he watched Eden working diligently over the stove, if his mother had ever been as happy as Eden, if she'd ever smiled and laughed and played at falling in love. If she ever had, that part of her had died the night three bandits broke into her home to rob and rape her. Her father and brother had been out hunting. If they hadn't returned the next morning, she might've died there on the kitchen floor. Hadn't he heard his grandfather say a thousand times, that she, and he, would've been better off if she'd died that night?


  Better off if there had never been a baby; that's what his grandfather had meant. Better off if his only daughter's only child hadn't been born out of wedlock. Better off if the boy hadn't looked so much like the man who'd fathered him. Sullivan had often wondered if the hate in his grandfather's heart would have been less if the rapist who'd fathered him had been one of the other two, the Smith or the Roberts.

  Hellfire, Eden had stirred all these memories up with talk about his hair. Why did he wear it long? To make damn sure everyone knew who and what he was. To make damn sure everyone kept their distance. Especially women. Especially nice girls. Eden said she knew who she was. Well, so did he.

  "I think I should head on out to Webberville in the morning," he said softly.

  Even though Eden didn't speak right away, he knew she'd heard him because she stopped stirring her chicken stew. "Why?" she finally asked.

  "You know damn well why."

  She kept a stiff back to him, as she resumed stirring her stew, more vigorously this time. "I don't suppose there's anything I can say or do to make you change your mind."

  "No," he said, even though he knew it was a lie. If she asked him to stay, how could he refuse her? If he was strong enough to tell her no, he wouldn't still be here.

  "I just... can't...", she said haltingly. "It's just that..." In frustration, she banged her long-handled wooden spoon on the edge of the tall pot. "If you come back here bleeding, cut, and swollen like you were when I first saw you, I think I'll cry like a baby." She sounded dangerously close to tears already. "I hate to cry," she said angrily. "It gives me a headache, and when it's over I always feel worse instead of better."

  "I can take care of myself," he said, touched that she would cry for him, amused that she was worried he couldn't handle himself. "I'll be careful this time."

  She spun around and wagged the spoon in his direction. A little drop of stew flex through the air and landed on the floor between them. "You'd better be," she said, and then she smiled wanly. "Look at me. I'm being silly. I know you can take care of yourself. I guess I just have a tendency to worry excessively about the people I care for. Goodness knows I worry about Jedidiah all the time."

  "I'm not your brother," Sullivan said lowly.

  "I know," Eden whispered. "I just want you to come back unhurt. Is that too much to ask?"

  Grady had it right. Eden Rourke was an angel. Good and beautiful and innocent. He had no business touching her, kissing her, pushing them both to the edge of something best left unexplored. He knew in that moment what he had to do. For her. For himself. "I'm not coming back."

  Her eyes widened and her cheeks paled. "What do you mean you're not coming back?"

  "What I said doesn't need any explanation. I'm not coming back to Rock Creek, not until you're gone."

  Her fingers gripped the spoon tightly, and for a moment he thought she was going to rush forward and hit him with it. "Have I done something wrong? Have I made you angry?"

  Sullivan shook his head. "You haven't done anything wrong. I just can't do this anymore. If Cash hadn't interrupted us this morning we'd still be in the tub."

  She lowered her eyes. "I suppose that's true."

  "It's best if I leave. I should've done it this morning, but when you kissed me I forgot all the reasons why I can't stay."

  She lifted her eyes. "If I kiss you again, will you change your mind again?"

  "Probably," he admitted with a small grin. "So you'd better keep your distance."

  She returned to her stew. "I know you're right," she said softly, "but I still don't want you to go."

  While she had her back to him, Sullivan left the kitchen. Eden Rourke was a weakness he couldn't afford, an unexpected and unwanted complication in an otherwise simple life. He needed to walk away, while he still could.

  ***

  "We could get married," Eden said softly. When she got no response, she looked over her shoulder to see that Sin was gone.

  "Just as well," she said to herself as she looked down into the stew. "After all, I've barely known you a week."

  A week was plenty long enough, apparently, for her to fall madly in love. It was wonderful; it was terrible; she didn't know what to do.

  "Besides," she muttered, "I can't ask you. You have to ask me. That's the way it's done."

  And that in itself was a problem, since Sin had shown no desire to have a wife and family. In fact, he seemed to hold those hallowed institutions in very low regard. Perhaps with time she could change his mind, but if he left tomorrow she'd never have the chance.

  Romantic love wasn't exactly what she'd expected. She'd always imagined that when she fell in love her feelings would be similar to what she felt for Jedidiah and her late stepfather. She loved those men dearly, with a protective affection that warmed her heart and soul.

  But what she felt for Sin went so much deeper it scared her. It cut to the heart like a sweet, sharp knife. It filled her, in a way that made her sure she must've been somehow empty inside before she met him. Love was so much more complicated than she'd ever suspected.

  Apparently Sin didn't share her feelings. If he did, he certainly wouldn't talk so calmly about leaving her behind. She could never make herself leave him, not if she thought for a moment that he wanted her to stay.

  Come tomorrow, she was going to lose him. A single tear fell into the stew.

  Chapter 8

  Sullivan pushed through the bat-wing doors of Rock Creek's sole saloon, looking for a few minutes of peace and quiet. The place wasn't quiet, not even at this time of the afternoon. At the moment he felt like he'd never know peace again.

  Cash gave him a condemning, sarcastic grin. "Well, well, if it isn't the horny man with a death wish."

  Sullivan saw no reason to argue. "I'm leaving in the morning," he said, trying to convince himself as much as Cash. Could he really do it? Ride away and not look back? Hell, he had no choice.

  "I'll believe it when I see you go," Cash drawled, lighting a cigar and leaning back in his chair. "Tell me where you'll be, and I'll wire you when Miss Rourke leaves town and it's safe for your return."

  Sullivan sat at Cash's table, ignoring the gnawing in his gut. He didn't like the idea of never returning to Rock Creek. He had friends here, and the people pretty much accepted him for who he was. But...

  "She might not leave," he said. "She intends to settle here, and I don't think Eden changes her mind often or easily."

  The change that came over Cash was so subtle, any other man might've missed it. His eyes darkened. The muscles in his neck tensed. The fingers of his free hand flexed, perhaps unconsciously, as if he were preparing to draw his six-shooter. "It isn't right that you leave Rock Creek permanently because of her," he said lowly. He narrowed his eyes and took a long drag on his cigar, obviously thinking hard. "She won't stay," he said with a long puff of smoke. "This place is too rough for her kind, too hard."

  "She's tougher than she looks."

  "Not tough enough," Cash murmured.

  Sullivan wondered if he could leave Eden, knowing that Daniel Cash would do his best to make sure she wouldn't stay. What would he do? Hell, what wouldn't he do?

  Nate wandered in, stopped a moment to let his eyes adjust to the dimmer light, and then headed for the table. He wasn't falling-down drunk yet, but he would be before the day was over. He sat down beside Sullivan and ordered a bottle.

  When there was a battle to be fought and won they were different men, all three of them. Without a cause they were lost—Cash in his cards and women, Nate in his whiskey. And Sullivan... Hell, he went looking for fights that weren't his, hiring out his gun and his talent for scouting because he didn't know how to do anything else. And all the while he stayed as distant as possible from the people he worked for and with. Eden was right when she said he liked being alone. He didn't want anyone to depend on him for anything other than his gun. He could almost wish for war again.

  "Sullivan here's headed out of town in the morning," Cash said, nodding to
Nate.

  Nate settled tired eyes on Sullivan. "You just got back."

  Cash, cigar in hand, leaned slightly over the table. "He has the poor sense to lust after Jed's sister. Of all the women in Texas, why her?"

  "Leave it alone, Cash," Sullivan said softly.

  "I will not leave it alone," he responded crisply. "It distresses me to no end to see you dangling in the wind over a woman. Don't you think she knows exactly what she's doing to you? She knows damn well, and she's loving every minute of it, let me tell you."

  "Jed's sister?" Nate said belatedly.

  "The blond virgin who's been hanging around the hotel the last couple of days," Cash snapped.

  The confusion fled from Nate's face. "Oh, her. She's attractive. Makes good soup, too. Talks too much, though. Smiles all the time. Jed's sister?"

  Cash shook his head in dismay. "Yes, Jed's baby sister. And Sullivan has been trifling with her."

  Nate lifted not-quite-yet-drunk eyes to Sullivan. "That's not terribly smart."

  "Even a man who's been pickled for the better part of the past eight years knows better than to..." Cash began.

  Sullivan rose. He wasn't going to find peace and quiet here, not today.

  "Ethel!" Cash shouted, raising his hand in the air. The girl made her way quickly to the table, a smile on her face.

  "Afternoon, sugar," she said, laying a hand on Cash's shoulder. "What can I do for you?"

  Cash grinned, his eyes on Sullivan. "Let's go upstairs and clean the tub, darlin'." He gave the suggestion a decidedly lewd flair.

  "Whatever you say," Ethel responded.

  The bat-wing doors swung open, and Sullivan turned his head to see Teddy and Millie standing there, holding hands and setting wide eyes on him.

  "Papa," Millie said, her voice high with excitement, "Mama says come quick." With that she turned and ran.

  Cash shook his head in dismay. "Jesus, Papa, you allow the younguns in this godforsaken place? What kind of a daddy are you?"