Sullivan

by Linda Devlin

  What choice did he have? The idea of leaving Eden here to face Cash alone was inconceivable. It would be like watching a kitten do battle with a panther. "I won't leave until I know you're safe."

  She smiled, the corners of her mouth lifting slightly, and her whole face brightened with relief and... what was that? Contentment?

  "Walk me to my room?" she asked simply. "There's nothing left to do in the kitchen that can't wait until morning. Besides, I have this strange urge to check on the children."

  He walked beside her. They were halfway up the stairs when she slipped her arm easily through his. He didn't fight it. How could he without giving away too much?

  Eden stopped outside her door and looked up at him. The light from the single lamp in the second-story hallway hit her just so, illuminating her softly but completely. "Don't go away," she whispered. "I want to peek in on the children."

  She opened the door and slipped inside, and Sullivan watched as she looked down first at Millie, straightening the quilt over the little girl, and then did the same for Teddy, smiling as she pulled the quilt over his shoulder. Sullivan looked around himself, to make sure there was no one lurking in the shadows. Surely Cash wouldn't go that far!

  Ah, Daniel Cash was capable of just about anything. He'd be smart to remember that.

  Eden closed the door behind her as she returned to the hallway. "They had a hard day, too, and they're both sleeping like babies."

  She placed her hand on his forearm, and her fingers, barely touching him, set off a riot of sensations throughout his entire body. Why her? The question Cash had asked whispered in Sullivan's brain. Why, of all the women in Texas, did he have to lust after Eden Rourke?

  He reminded himself of why she was here, why she came to him so easily, why she looked at him this way. He was just one of her strays, a convenient body to keep her from being alone until a better, more suitable man came along.

  And he'd made it easy for her, playing along, trying so hard not to offend or distress the perfect Miss Rourke. Maybe he should put a little scare into her himself, show her what she was playing with.

  He scooped Eden into his arms and kissed her hard, without warning, without asking, without tenderness. He forced her lips apart and plunged his tongue deep into her mouth, speared his fingers through the hair at the back of her head and held her tight against him. He pressed his arousal against her, letting her know just exactly what she was playing with.

  The sudden move shocked her into stillness, but her inertia didn't last long. Her first response was a softening, a subtle yielding, and then she kissed him back hungrily and wrapped her arms around his waist, holding on tight and tasting him deep.

  A kiss, no matter how fervent, would not be enough to scare Eden Rourke. He should've known. He pressed her back against the wall and crushed their bodies together, placing a hand on her hip, tracing her curves with his palm, digging his fingers into her flesh and caressing her boldly through layers of brown linen and petticoats. She was so small, so delicate. So passionate in her response.

  She wasn't at all afraid. He raised his hand to her breast and stroked her with insistent fingers. A sharp intake of breath revealed her surprise, but she didn't move away or protest. He tweaked her nipple and she gasped, but it was a gasp that came from somewhere deep inside, and it spoke not of shock but of pleasant surprise.

  He soon forgot why he'd begun this, as Eden threaded her fingers through his hair and kissed him hard. He wanted to lay her on the floor right there and bury himself inside her, to hell with all the reasons he shouldn't.

  She pulled her mouth from his and laid her head against his shoulder. Breathing deeply and erratically, she whispered, "This is happening so fast."

  "Not fast enough to suit me," he muttered.

  She laughed, breathless and light. "I should get to bed."

  "Yes, you should," Sullivan whispered, kissing her again.

  She didn't miss his meaning. "I'm sorry. You know I can't...."

  "I know. I know," he said as he released her. He'd tried to terrify Eden into letting go of this impossible relationship, and he'd ended up confusing himself. "You're a nice girl."

  "You make that sound like something bad," she said, a trace of humor in her voice.

  "Right now, it is."

  "Good night, Sin," she whispered.

  Sin. The way she said his name sent chills down his spine. It made him want more, in the same way her response to his touch made him want more.

  She closed the door in his face.

  * * *

  Sullivan waited until the others had left and only Cash, Rico, and Nate remained in the dining room. He dropped the note so that it fluttered onto the table, landing directly in front of Cash.

  "You want to explain this?"

  Cash gave the note a quick glance. "The penmanship is atrocious," he said casually.

  Sullivan snatched up the note and waved it in Cash's face. "Tell me you didn't send this to scare Eden into leaving Rock Creek," he seethed. "Damn it, Cash..."

  "I didn't send that ridiculous note," Cash said, glancing up. He was irritated, but not angry. "If I ever decide to take matters into my own hands and rid the town of Miss Rourke, I will do it with some style, you can be assured. This," he said, flicking his fingers at the note, "is an amateurish attempt at harassment."

  Rico snatched the paper from Sullivan's hand. "Someone has threatened Eden?"

  Cash tsked and leaned back in his chair. "Take note, Sullivan, and beware. It seems you have competition for Miss Rourke's affections in the form of our own knife-wielding Romeo. When the kid threatened poor Sutton in order to make the man eat a slice of pie, I knew there would be trouble."

  Sullivan ignored Cash and tried to think of someone who might want Eden out of town, but came up with nothing. Rico started muttering in quietly spoken Spanish. Nate comforted himself with another drink. It was Cash who came up with an answer.

  "I think our lovely Miss Rourke wrote the note, herself," he said calmly.

  "What? That's ridiculous." Sullivan towered over a seated Cash with clenched fists.

  "Is it really?" Cash asked calmly. "You want to leave town; she doesn't want you to go. What better way to keep you here than to give you a... a task, if you will. A mission, perhaps. You and I both know you will not leave town while Miss Rourke is in danger, and that, my dear Sullivan, is why you should know without question that I did not write that ludicrous note."

  Cash made sense, so much so that Sullivan sat down, deflated. He didn't believe for a moment that Eden wrote that note herself. She'd been genuinely frightened, and unless he had seriously misjudged her, she wouldn't use deception to get her way.

  But if not Cash, who?

  * * *

  With the children off for school, Eden's only decision was which chore to attack first. The hotel was such a wreck, she felt it would be a very long time before she was able to rest.

  Since the lobby was the first thing people saw when they entered the building, that would be the first room to be thoroughly cleaned and remodeled.

  The long front desk was made of a fine wood. It had been scuffed and scratched, truly battered here and there, but with a little polish and a lot of elbow grease it would suffice. The brass bell needed a polishing, too, and the leather-bound guest book was dusty, but it had many blank pages and would serve for some time.

  The upholstered furniture in the middle of the large room, a dark green sofa and matching chairs, was faded, but would do for the moment. The pieces needed a good cleaning, but they were sturdy and functional. She could imagine someday replacing the grouping with truly elegant furnishings. Eden was planning ahead and sweeping the bare wood floor when Sin came down the stairs.

  "Good morning," she said with a smile, remembering last night's kiss. Well, it had been much more than a kiss. Goodness, she'd almost told Sin she loved him, right there in the hallway while he had his hands on her in a most improper way. "Did you sleep well?"

  "N
o," he grumbled. "Did you?"

  She nodded her head, thinking of the warmth that had rushed through her as she'd huddled beneath her quilt. The dreams that had followed remained with her still. "I slept very well, thank you."

  He mumbled something obscene and headed for the dining room.

  Eden leaned her broom against the front desk and followed him. "I'll make you some eggs," she said. "And bacon and grits. There are biscuits left from the children's breakfast. I'll warm them for you...."

  "Just a biscuit," he said. "And coffee."

  "Oh, you need a bigger breakfast than that...."

  "I don't want a bigger breakfast," he said with a surly glance over his shoulder. "A biscuit. Coffee."

  Eden lifted her eyebrows. "Well, someone certainly got up on the wrong side of the bed this morning."

  Sin sat in a chair at a small round table for two, stretching his long legs out and leaning back slightly to look at her. "Forget the biscuit and coffee and come here," he ordered in a low voice.

  With a smile, she went to him. When he indicated that she was to sit in the chair beside him, she did so, perching on the edge of the seat, waiting for what was to come next. Another kiss, perhaps?

  But Sin didn't look like he intended to kiss her. He was obviously tense. A muscle high in his cheek jerked, and his hands were placed too casually on his legs as he sat there and glared at her.

  "Tell me, Eden, are you most like your mother or your father?"

  It was an unexpected question, but one she was glad to answer. Perhaps he simply wanted to know more about her and was shy about asking such personal questions.

  "Jedidiah and I both have our father's coloring, but he got mother's curly hair and I didn't. In temperament, I am very much like my mother. Jedidiah is more like our father, everyone says. He died when I was five, and I really don't remember him well, so I can't say for certain."

  "Exactly how are you like your mother?" he asked.

  It was an easy enough question to answer. "She had no tolerance for injustice, and neither do I. Blue was her favorite color, and it's also mine, and strawberries make me break out in hives. She couldn't eat them, either." She cocked her head and stared at him quizzically. "Is that the sort of thing you want to know?"

  "It'll do," he said, setting his eyes on hers. His face hardened, his eyes narrowed, and a muscle in his jaw twitched. She still had no idea why Sin was asking these questions, but it was obviously not a pleasant moment for him.

  "Now I'm going to tell you something I've never told anyone else."

  Her heart skipped a beat. He must love her, if he was going to share his deepest secrets. She scooted her chair a little bit closer.

  "My father was Comanche," he said quietly.

  Eden nodded her head once.

  "I guess you know, from everything I've said, that I have mixed blood. Comanche and Irish."

  "I know," she whispered, ready to tell him that she didn't care. "A lot of people are of mixed blood. Teddy and Rico each had a Mexican parent." Oh, she wanted to make this easy for him, to tell him he had no reason to ever fear telling her anything. "If you think it matters to me..."

  "You've probably manufactured an idyllic story in the back of your mind, something... pleasant and romantic," he interrupted. "A woman who leaves her family behind for love, a man who breaks tradition to be with the woman who's stolen his heart." His eyes grew dark and hard to read. "But the truth is, my father was a Comanche renegade, a thief and a rapist. He and two white men banded together and terrorized three counties for months. Drunk and laughing, having a grand old time, they robbed, burned, and murdered. One night they raided my grandfather's farm and found my mother there alone. They beat and raped her, and then they left her for dead."

  Tears welled up in Eden's eyes. She reached out to touch Sin, but he waved her back with an impatient hand.

  "She was fifteen at the time."

  Eden stifled a cry, biting her lower lip and grasping her hands in her lap.

  "My father and the other two were hanged for their crimes before I was born, before my mother even knew I existed. Fiona Sullivan, who from all accounts was a lovely young woman before the attack, was never quite right after that night. She was, for lack of a better word, crazy. When I was fourteen she went down to the river and didn't come back. She drowned herself," he said without emotion.

  He looked her in the eye, made certain she was paying attention to every detail. There were no tears in those eyes, no hint of the pain she knew he had to feel. "My grandfather assured me she killed herself because I looked more like my father every day."

  She felt the pain for him, wanted so badly to take his heartache away. "I'm so sorry," she whispered. "But you have to know that it doesn't matter to me..."

  "Don't tell me it doesn't matter," he said. "All my life I've watched families walk down the street, the kids looking and walking and talking like their parents, sometimes looking like little miniatures of their mother or father. And I always ask myself—Who will I be like? My father, the violent, drunken thief, or my mother, the crazy woman who killed herself when she couldn't stand to look at me anymore." He offered his arm to her, wrist up, pushing up the white cotton sleeve to bare his flesh for her. "See this blood?" he asked. "That's the blood that runs in these veins. I thought you should know."

  Eden didn't even try to stop the silent tears as she rose from her seat and sat on Sin's knee, surprising him. She placed her arms around his neck and laid her head on his shoulder, took a deep breath, and burrowed her nose against his warm neck. "I'm so sorry." She'd already said that once, and she hated to repeat herself, but what else could she say? She was sorry, she hated that the man she'd fallen in love with carried such a deep pain in his heart.

  He remained stiff and unyielding. "I've told you where I come from, who I am. You should run like hell," he whispered, "not crawl into my lap."

  She took a deep breath, inhaling his scent. There was such unexpected comfort in being this close. She could only hope that somehow she gave him the same comfort, when he needed it most. "Sinclair Sullivan, how could I possibly run from you when I love you so much that whatever hurts you hurts me more?"

  He didn't move or respond at all, so she lifted her head to look into his eyes, so she could see his hard and beautiful face. "I love you, Sin."

  "Don't say that," he whispered. "You're supposed to walk away when you hear the truth. Hell, woman, you're supposed to run away."

  She smiled and leaned forward to give him a gentle kiss, a brief peck on the lips. "In case you haven't figured it out yet, I don't always do what I'm supposed to."

  "No kidding," he muttered.

  She made herself comfortable in his lap and placed her head on his shoulder again, and this time he wrapped his arms around her. At that moment, she knew she belonged right here. In Rock Creek, in this hotel, with Sin.

  "I know with all my heart that you're a good man, Sinclair Sullivan. In spite of your parents and your past circumstances, you've become strong and decent and kind, and you should put those needless worries from your mind." She lifted his hand to her lips and laid her mouth against his wrist, there where the blood flowed. Then she pulled away slightly and traced the veins she'd kissed with her fingertip. "This is your blood and no one else's," she whispered. "And I love you," she added.

  "Don't."

  She lowered his hand but continued to hold it, as she settled herself more comfortably in his lap. "Too late." She sighed. "I'm much too far gone to change my feelings now. Why, I believe I fell in love with you the first time I looked into your... eye."

  For a few moments all was silent, the room, the town, the world. If she tried, Eden could hear her heartbeat and Sin's, beating in a kind of soothing rhythm.

  "Do you know how much I want you right now?" Sin finally asked, breaking the silence.

  She adjusted herself just a little in his lap and smiled widely. "Why, yes, sir, I believe I do."

  Chapter 10

  "When the
hotel is in good shape, I want to work in the gardens out back," Eden said as she polished the front desk. "Just think how lovely it will be to sit outside in the spring, with flowers blooming and birds singing, and benches that don't wobble back and forth when you sit on them." She smiled widely at Sin, who sat casually on the green sofa, his fine, denim-clad legs extended to their full length as he watched her intently. "We can sit out there at night, after a long day, and"—and you can kiss me again—"and relax."

  "I may not even be here in the spring," Sin responded. "You know that."

  She wasn't ready to accept the notion that Sin would leave her, no matter how often he mentioned doing just that. "I know no such thing," she said primly, and then she continued on. "The flower garden will be lovely, but just think of how useful the vegetable garden off the kitchen will be. I can't believe Grady let it all die away."

  Her mind was not entirely on gardening. How could it be? If only Sin would let go of the pain of the past, of his fears of becoming like his father or his mother. The morning's revelation told her so much about Sin and why he was the way he was. No wonder he mistakenly thought he wanted to be alone.

  She left her polishing rag on the front desk and joined Sin on the sofa, sitting beside him and laying her hand possessively on his forearm. "I truly hope you will be here in the spring," she said sincerely. "I cannot imagine what my days here would be like without you."

  Sin hesitated just a moment before putting his arm around her. It was all the invitation she needed to snuggle against his side, settling herself there comfortably. "Besides, Rock Creek is your home. You belong here. I would feel terrible if you left on my account. You don't want to make me feel guilty, do you?"

  "I have no home and I don't belong anywhere," he said crisply. "There's no need for you to feel guilty."

  She turned her head, raised herself a little, and kissed Sin soundly on the lips, answering an irresistible urge; how could she be this close to Sin and not kiss him? Impossible.

  He held her tight and kissed her back, his arms around her, his thumb lightly brushing against the side of her breast.