Reckless Destiny

by Teresa Southwick

  “A handsome family,” he said.

  She stood beside him and he heard her sigh. “If I didn’t get lonesome for my parents, there’s nothing about that life I’d miss.”

  Her shoulder brushed his arm. The touch sent awareness stampeding through him. He put the frame back on the dresser and moved away from her. That was the first thing he’d done right since accepting her invitation. Maybe the tide of this battle was turning in his favor.

  She stared at the photo for a moment, then looked up at him. She was pretty and fresh, and the sight of her was better than anything he could think of. He was in real trouble here. He searched for something to say to break the spell she was weaving.

  “How’s your eye, Cady?”

  “Good as new.”

  He studied her. The swelling was gone, and there was barely a hint of purple left on her upper lid. Above her cheek, the discoloration could have been a smudge of dirt or just the evidence of a lack of sleep. An unfamiliar, protective feeling surged within him, and he started to reach out and touch her. Just in time, he curled his fingers into his palm.

  He looked around the room again, anything to divert his attention. Anything to gain the upper hand. For the first time he noticed the rough table and two benches in the center of the room. That was new. On the surface, two places were set for dinner.

  He pointed to the roughly fashioned boards. “Where did this come from?”

  “Lieutenant Carlton was kind enough to make it for me this morning. I needed a place to work. And eat,” she said with a laugh. “Now all I lack is a decent tablecloth.”

  “Hope he managed to pull his detail in between making furniture for you,” he grumbled.

  Upper hand, hell. He didn’t like the idea of his men doing things for her. It wasn’t jealousy, he told himself. Just that army business came first. What the men did on their own time was one thing, but Carlton had whipped this up pretty darn quick. He didn’t want the man’s work suffering because he was smitten with Cady.

  The odor of something that smelled mighty tasty drifted toward him. “What’s cooking?” Then a thought struck him. “How will I know you didn’t get someone else to start that cook fire for you?”

  She grinned at him. “I had a feeling you’d say that. Dinner is ready, and I banked the fire so I could restart it when you got here.”

  It was already too hot in here for him without a fire. But he’d agreed to let her prove herself.

  He ran one finger around the high neck of his uniform. “Let’s see.”

  She walked over to the fireplace, which was nothing more than a small square made out of rocks set in the wall with a chimney to keep the smoke out. She stooped, and her skirts billowed around her.

  After pulling a match from a container, Cady struck it on one of the stones next to her carefully arranged kindling topped with small pieces of wood. The shavings caught and she blew on the tiny flame until it burned brightly. She waited and at just the right moment she reached for a large chunk of wood. When she struggled with it for a few seconds, he moved beside her and lifted it from her hands.

  She looked up at him, a warning in her eyes. “You saw me start the fire.”

  “I never said you didn’t.” He set the piece of wood on her fire. “Remind me to tell R. J. to chop your wood smaller.”

  He looked at her and knew he should get the hell away from her, as far and as fast as he could. But he didn’t. He just held out his hand to help her to her feet. She hesitated only for a moment before placing her fingers in his palm.

  A pleased, triumphant expression turned up the corners of her mouth and danced in her eyes. “Well?” She lifted one brow expectantly.

  “What?”

  “I think you owe me an apology. I can start a cook fire.”

  Behind her in the fireplace, the wood hissed and crackled as it shifted and tumbled forward, confirming her achievement.

  He bowed slightly. “Miss Tanner, my apologies for ever doubting your ability.”

  “Accepted,” she said with a smile. “Do you take back the part about my having no business in the Territory?”

  Kane recalled his words, the ones that had sent her away with tears in her eyes. He shifted his feet. “I’m sorry about that night. I never meant to hurt you.”

  She clasped her hands together at her waist. Her cheeks flushed a becoming shade of pink. “I’m not going to tell you I wasn’t hurt. But in time I realized I was merely infatuated and you were right.”

  He blinked. “I was?”

  “Not in what you said. I can take care of myself here. But we barely knew each other.” She took a deep breath. “I had no idea what I wanted to do with my life. If you had taken advantage of my youth, I never would have gone back to school and found out I wanted to teach.”

  “Glad I could help.” If he’d been so right then, why did it feel so wrong now?

  “Can we put that unfortunate incident behind us and be friends?” she asked.

  He should be relieved that it was only friendship she wanted, but, dammit, he wasn’t. Let her be friends with Betsy Wexler or Lieutenant Carlton, who made her furniture. He moved in front of her until only a few inches separated them. The warmth and fragrance from her body intoxicated him.

  “Friends?” she said, holding out her hand. “We have a bargain then?”

  Her eyes glowed, big and beautiful and fringed by thick dark lashes. Her full lips parted slightly, setting loose a wild yearning within him. What would her mouth feel like against his own? In that instant, tasting the honeyed softness of her lips seemed the most important thing in the world.

  He took her hand, wrapping his big palm around her small, delicate fingers. He pulled her against him and settled her hand around his neck. For an instant, he stared into her startled eyes. Then he lowered his head and touched his mouth to hers.

  The contact was sweet, soft. She felt so good, so warm, so real after what seemed an eternity of memories. A blaze started in his belly; her lips were the spark that set him off. He’d been alone for such a long time, he was like bone-dry kindling laid out and ready to catch.

  He knew it; he didn’t care. Until that moment he hadn’t known how hungry he’d been for her.

  He circled her waist with one arm and, with his other hand, pressed the back of her head to make the pressure of their mouths more firm. She made a soft sound in her throat, part sigh, part moan.

  Cady thought her heart would fly from her chest when Kane held her so close. The tension she’d felt in him when he’d pulled her into his arms, against his hard, muscled body, frightened her.

  This was not the teasing, flirtatious man who’d kissed her two years ago. That man had disappeared and in his place was this fierce dark stranger. But his lips were warm and firm, soft and gentle, so different from the way they looked when he was angry with her.

  The tip of his tongue slowly stroked the outline of her mouth, and the sensation was so exquisite she would have slipped to her knees if he hadn’t been holding her so tightly.

  She hadn’t let anyone kiss her since Kane, not even Will, her fiancé; she hadn’t wanted to. And now she only wanted to think about the joy of Kane’s touch, the rapture of his kiss, the sheer happiness of being in the warmth of his arms again after a lifetime of waiting.

  With firm persuasiveness, his tongue coaxed her lips apart, then slipped inside her mouth. He caressed the moist interior until desire crested through her on waves of pure pleasure.

  Cady pulled her mouth from his and stared into the silent intensity of his face. His jaw was tautly flexed, his eyes darkened. Shadings of emotion crossed his face, some of them unreadable.

  Some, but not all.

  Caring, she understood because it touched a core in her female soul. Needing, she knew because it pulled a string in her woman’s heart. Wanting, she recognized, because she’d never wanted a man the way she did now. She’d been a girl the last time he kissed her. She was a woman now.

  As her gaze slid back and fort
h across the tension concealed in the angles and contours of his lean cheeks, she saw another emotion. It was a moment before she recognized it, for she’d never known it before. But finally, when she understood what was inside her, she was able to give a name to what she saw in Kane’s face: hunger.

  The force of it scared her, made her shy away. When she pushed against his chest, Kane dropped his arms and let her go. She backed away from him.

  Lord, but it was warm. Even the air blowing in the open door didn’t help. Heat seemed to be all around her. The touch of his mouth on hers had been more wonderful than anything she’d ever known. But she needed to sort out her feelings. She backed up another step.

  He ran a hand through his thick hair. “So we have a bargain?”

  “Bargain?” she repeated. What bargain? Her chest was rising and falling so fast, she couldn’t catch her breath. Time and thought were broken down to before the kiss and after. She couldn’t remember anything before, only the sensations that raced through her after. She couldn’t think straight.

  His breathing was ragged, the sound of it filling the space between them. When he rubbed his forehead, his hand shook slightly. “Didn’t we agree to forget the past and be friends?” He twisted the last word with a sarcastic edge that she didn’t understand.

  “Friends. Yes. We definitely agreed.”

  She sounded like an idiot, repeating everything he said. But it was so hot, she couldn’t think. She took a deep breath. Something smelled strange. She sniffed again. It was almost like …

  “Cady!” He lunged toward her.

  She automatically went backward a step.

  “Behind you!” he yelled, grabbing her and pulling her away from the fireplace.

  Before she could turn to see what had alarmed him, she felt Kane wrenching her to the door.

  6

  “What are you doing?” Cady cried, trying to tug out of his grasp. “Have you lost your mind?”

  There was no time to explain. Fear clawed at Kane’s belly as he pulled her outside onto the wooden walkway. He stepped onto the four-foot-wide plank covering the acequia. Then he picked her up and dropped her into the three feet of water flowing through it. She landed on her rear end, not quite submerging. Smoke from the doused fire rose between them, along with the smell of burned material, making him cough. He was pretty sure he’d caught the fire in time, that the cloth had just smoldered and not burned her.

  “Are you hurt?” He took a deep breath and let it out slowly as he hunkered down beside her.

  “Hurt?” She sat up, pushing her dripping hair from her eyes. She stared up at him in complete bewilderment, then down at her soaked blouse. “No, I’m not hurt. Ask me if I’m wet.” She shook her hands and water flew off. “Are you crazy? Why in heaven’s name did you—”

  The door to the quarters beside Cady’s opened. With a lantern held high in his hand, Lieutenant Brewster stood there in his uniform pants with his suspenders coming up over the top part of his union suit. He saluted when he saw Kane. Then his gaze slid to Cady sitting in the water, and his brows rose. “Everything all right, captain?” he asked.

  “An accident. Nothing serious.”

  “Anythin’ I can do?”

  “No, she’ll be all right.” This time, Kane thought.

  “Good evenin’, then, captain. Ma’am.” He nodded as politely at Cady as if they were passing each other on the street.

  “‘Night, Brew,” Kane said. The other man disappeared inside and they were alone again.

  He reached out to her. “Let me give you a hand.”

  She ignored his offer of help. Instead, she cupped her hands, scooped up water, and tossed it at him. There was no time to duck, and moisture dripped from his hair and down his face. He swiped at it and scowled.

  “That’s the thanks I get for saving your life?”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Dammit, your dress was on fire.”

  Her eyes widened, then her brows pulled together in a frown. “Sure it was.”

  He held his hand out. “If you get up out of there, I’ll prove it.”

  She hesitated a moment, then put her fingers in his palm. “Just don’t get any ideas about pushing me in there again.”

  “I wouldn’t dream of it.” He shook the drops of moisture from his hair.

  She gripped his fingers and, as he helped her stand, he heard the water suck at her clothes. Awkwardly, she stepped from the ditch, her skirts clinging wetly to her.

  “Are you all right?” he asked again.

  “I’m perfectly fine.”

  He studied her in the moonlight. A pleasantly temperate breeze blew and the acequia water was lukewarm. Still, she was soaked from head to toe, and if she stayed out here long enough, she risked a chill.

  “Shouldn’t you go inside and change?”

  “Yes, thanks to you.”

  He encircled her waist and helped her up the steps. Her movements were slow, hampered by her heavy water-soaked clothing. When he had her inside, a dark wet pool grew on the canvas at her feet as water dripped from her garments.

  Her gaze moved to the fireplace and the log that had rolled forward and caught her dress on fire. Turning from the waist she looked at the back, studying her scorched hem. Then she looked at him and he saw that she realized she could have been badly hurt. What would have happened if he hadn’t been there? Of course, if he hadn’t been there she wouldn’t have backed into the fireplace.

  “Now do you believe me?” he asked fiercely.

  “Kane, I’m sorry. I—I didn’t know.” Her lips trembled as she tried to smile. “Thank you.”

  He didn’t know what to say. Her wet blouse made the material practically transparent. It was plastered to her chest, outlining her rounded breasts. Anxiety, longing, and desire mingled together and twisted through him.

  “Are you—” The worry spilled into his throat until it scalded him. He swallowed it down and tried again. “Are you burned anywhere?”

  She shook her head. “I don’t think so. I don’t feel anything but soaking wet.”

  “Let me check.” He led her to the dresser where the lantern rested and moved it forward. “Lift up your skirt.”

  Her eyes grew round with shock. “Lift my—? I think not. I don’t feel any pain anywhere.”

  “If you’re in shock, you wouldn’t feel anything. Let me see if you’re hurt.”

  She shook her head stubbornly. “It wouldn’t be proper.”

  “Not where you come from. But out here you let go of propriety to survive. Modesty won’t do you a damn bit of good if you’re burned and don’t take care of it. If infection sets in—”

  “All right. You’ve made your point.”

  She turned her back and did as he’d asked. The vision of her slender legs, encased in stockings, slammed him in the gut like an unexpected punch. The lacy femininity of her undergarments mesmerized him, made him ache to know the softness beneath the material. He wanted to go away as far and as fast as he could.

  But he had to know for sure that she wasn’t hurt. With her hem hiked up, he could see that her petticoats and pantaloons were not singed. He let out a long relieved breath.

  “It’s only the bottom of your skirt that burned. You’re fine.”

  “I told you.” She continued to hold her skirt up, as if the weight and wetness was easier that way. “I need to change my clothes. Would you mind turning around?”

  “Cady, I think I should go.”

  “But we haven’t eaten yet.”

  That didn’t matter; he couldn’t stay. He’d found out two things tonight.

  The first was why he’d silenced his better judgment to accept her dinner invitation. It was simply the need to be with a woman. He was a man—a normal red-blooded man. Out here in the middle of nowhere, feminine companionship wasn’t easy to come by. It was only natural that he’d want to be with a woman like Cady. Standing there wet, wide-eyed, bedraggled, beautiful, innocent as a newborn lamb, she wa
s a temptation a saint would have trouble resisting. He was no saint.

  “Cady, I think it would be best if I leave.”

  “What about dinner?”

  Food was the last thing on his mind. He pushed the damp hair off his forehead. “I’m not hungry.”

  He remembered the smoke creeping up the back of her dress and realized she could have been hurt or killed. He wanted to hold her, comfort her, touch her. If he laid a hand on her, he knew he couldn’t stop there.

  “You’re not worried about what people will think, are you?” She made a noise that sounded suspiciously like a snort. “Don’t be so priggish. We agreed to be friends. Jack trusts you. Why you’re like a—”

  “Don’t say it,” he growled. “I’m not your brother.”

  What he felt for her right now was far from brotherly affection—or friendship. It would be so much easier if he could feel that way. All this had started because she’d wanted to prove something to him. She’d done it. She’d shown him he couldn’t be alone with her. Not if he was going to keep his word to her brother.

  And, more important, his promise to himself.

  “It’s time I left and let you change.”

  “Well, at least one good thing came out of all this. I told you I could make a cook fire, and I did,” she said, lifting her chin a fraction.

  “Sure. You said you could cook, too.” His mouth thinned to a grim line. “And you almost did: yourself. What the hell were you thinking—”

  “Me?” Her skirt started to slip and she gathered it in front of her. “You think it was my fault that I backed into the fire?”

  He looked around. “There’s only you and me here, and I was two feet away when you went up in flames.”

  “You’re exaggerating.” She tightened her grip on her skirts and drips of water plopped on the canvas-covered floor in a steady rhythm. “You want to know what I was thinking? Well, I’ll tell you. I wasn’t thinking at all. And that’s your fault.”

  “Mine?” He touched his chest with a finger. “Good God, woman, you’re blaming this on me?”