Wildfire in His Arms

by Johanna Lindsey

  Riding the horses was fun and had a bonus. It worried the heck out of Grady since he couldn’t follow them because he didn’t have a horse. They stuck to the roads. Too many farms were in the area to do otherwise.

  When they slowed down to turn back, she mentioned, “We could get off the train at one of the watering stops in Texas before it reaches Fort Worth. It might only take one extra day to ride the rest of the way instead of catching the stage for the last leg of the journey home.”

  “Your friends will, too.”

  “I wish you’d stop calling them my friends. But they don’t have horses so they can’t follow us.”

  “Pike is a Texas sheriff. He’ll borrow mounts or confiscate the stage horses.”

  “You really think he’d do that?”

  “Yes. And I’d prefer not to camp out with them within yelling distance.”

  “The alternative is to ride the stage with them. That won’t be pleasant.”

  “Then consider that problem solved.”

  She grinned. “You’re going to shoot them before we catch the stage?”

  He didn’t deign to answer that, but she did get one of his hard looks. She just laughed and raced him back to town.

  Back at the hotel, Max discovered that the curtains in their room were thin. But on the positive side, the room had its own bathing room with running water. Of course it would this far east, she realized, but still it was a nice surprise.

  Then she got another surprise. After they cleaned up, Degan took her shopping. He found a store that sold basic clothing and accessories for both men and women, even some ready-made clothes, though those were just for men and boys.

  Seeing that, he remarked, “It’s too bad we won’t be here long enough for you to visit a seamstress.”

  “I have lots of perfectly fine clothes at home. I don’t need more when I’ll be home soon.”

  “We may have different ideas of what constitutes ‘perfectly fine.’ ”

  She wasn’t sure what he meant by that until she remembered his friend Allison and how she’d been dressed. She rolled her eyes. No, she definitely didn’t own clothes like that. In Bingham Hills, she would’ve stood out like a sore thumb if she’d dressed like that.

  She ended up buying new socks and a new bandanna, then gazed for a few minutes at a hat tree that was filled with pretty bonnets. Degan started to reach for one, but Max shook her head and walked away. She didn’t need anything frivolous that she wouldn’t use. But she laughed when a while later he plopped a wide-brimmed hat on her head, a black one like his, just not as fancy. Then he found a thin, ropelike chain to wrap around the crown and pinned it in place with a pretty cameo brooch. His improvising was amusing, turning a wide-brimmed cowboy hat into a bonnet, yet she was touched that he would do that.

  The bigger surprise was when he slipped a wedding band on her finger before they left the store. He even brought her hand up to his lips and kissed the ring on her finger, which was when she noticed he’d bought one for himself as well. Flustered, she looked around for Grady or Saul, but they weren’t there, so he wasn’t doing this for their benefit.

  “You didn’t have to,” she said, looking down at her gold band.

  “I know. But now your enemy will see at a glance that you’re married. You shouldn’t have to dig your marriage certificate out to prove it—and too many men glance your way when you’re not trying to hide that you’re a woman.”

  She burst out laughing. “You’re trying to make me think you’re jealous?”

  “It didn’t work, did it?”

  “Oh, I don’t know—maybe a little.”

  They had dinner afterward in a restaurant away from the hotel, a fancy one that offered French cooking, something she’d never before had. Grady and Saul didn’t show up, which made it even nicer. Max went through half a bottle of wine, hoping it would help her sleep tonight. Degan only had one glass and only drank half of it. He never relaxed his guard. And he never had trouble sleeping.

  But she didn’t think she’d have that trouble tonight either. She was feeling quite mellow after such a nice day. When they returned to their room, she even opened the curtains wide and thumbed her nose in case Saul was out there somewhere with his spyglass. Grinning, she stripped down to her underclothes and got into bed. She was almost asleep by the time Degan joined her.

  Then she was wide-awake. The mattress was too soft. It had dipped when Degan lay down on it. She almost rolled right into him. She swore under her breath and gripped her side of the mattress.

  “If you want something, just ask.”

  No, he didn’t just say that, she told herself. “I’m fine.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “Yes!”

  So much for sleeping. It was already happening, that tense sense of anticipation stirring within her as if her nerves had just been shredded. She’d felt Degan’s body heat for the barest second before she turned away, yet she still felt warm. Her imagination went crazy when she was this close to him. Was he almost naked again? She hadn’t been watching him before he got into bed, and she wasn’t going to turn over to look now. He’d turned the lamps off, but the light from the town’s fancy streetlamps filtered into the room.

  An hour later she was still staring at the ceiling, still trying not to clench her fists. A walk might help. She needed to do something, but she’d wake him if she got out of bed. He was like that, instantly up at the slightest sound or movement, which was why she was resisting the urge to toss and turn, though she might just scream pretty soon if she didn’t. Was he even asleep? She couldn’t tell when he was this quiet, this still, as if he was waiting for something.

  She finally turned over and nudged him. “Will you just make love to me already? This is driving me—!”

  He was on her so fast she didn’t get to finish. If she hadn’t just imagined him doing exactly that a dozen times, she might have been surprised by it.

  “No stopping this time,” she warned.

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  He was grinning at her. He was actually grinning at her! It caused her to give him a beautiful smile and the tightest hug. It caused something else, a wonderful warm feeling that seemed to drain her frustration away. Most of it.

  As their mouths touched, she locked her arms around his neck. That made it a bit difficult for him to get her under­clothes off, but he managed. He just took his time now, caressing her as he did it. He seemed to want to touch her every­where, down her arms and even her fingers, along her side and the full length of her leg, which she had bent against his hip. He didn’t even ignore the foot he could reach. His hands made a slow, tantalizing path up and down her body, both soothing her and arousing her further.

  She was reminded of the night he’d tried to warm her up by rubbing her body, an attempt to soothe that had gotten out of control. Was that what he was doing now because he’d sensed she’d been about to burst? No, his touch was more sensual tonight. He was trying to relax her yet not letting her forget for a moment what was coming. And he never stopped kissing her. His mouth could be deeply stirring one moment, then gently nibbling at her lips the next. He seemed to be taking his time so she would know there was more to this amazing intimacy they shared than an explosion of passions.

  But the passion still built steadily, as if it had a life of its own. Her breaths deepened. Her hands trembled as she caressed him. When his hand slipped between her legs, he ignited hot desires that ran through her body the way a flame devours dry brush. She groaned from the onslaught of pleasurable sensations, then half laughed because she hadn’t meant to. But she also arched her body toward him. She didn’t mean to do that, either. Or maybe she did. Degan must have figured she did because he responded with exactly what she wanted, badly needed. He braced his arms on either side of her as he hovered over her, and it was sublime, feeling him enter her as he looked at her face, watching her reaction. Then she realized that as much as he wanted to see what he made her feel, he was letting her see wha
t she made him feel. He was going to let her watch his climax—oh, God! She went right over the edge, and so did he.

  Chapter Forty-Six

  MAX DIDN’T WANT TO get out of bed. She felt so peaceful, so—happy. Really? It had been so long since so many good feelings had bubbled up in her this way that she wasn’t sure. She guessed it was the lovemaking that had rid her of all the jittery frustration that had been haranguing her. The lovemaking was nice, well, better than nice with Degan.

  Last night had been the most special night of her life, almost like a real wedding night. She didn’t think she’d ever feel or see anything that wonderful or blissful again. And since she’d crossed the line in starting it, she wasn’t going to step back over the line. She and Degan wouldn’t be together much longer. Why jump back into hell when she could enjoy paradise with him for the time they had left?

  He might have other ideas though. She’d have to wait to see if he apologized for last night. Or maybe she should ­apologize—no, she wouldn’t. If he hadn’t figured out that she’d enjoyed what they’d done last night, she’d spell it out. But damn, that would be embarrassing.

  He was in the bathing room but had left the door open. It sounded as if he was shaving. She quickly dressed and moved over to the doorway, but her cheeks lit up a little before she got there, and a wave of shyness came over her when she saw him. He was only half-dressed in his pants, boots, and gun belt. His chest was bare.

  “Are you ever going to let me do that for you?”

  He glanced at her. “Probably not.” But then he added, “Not that I don’t trust you.”

  “Then why not?”

  “Because one of us won’t be thinking about shaving, if you get that close.”

  There it was, he did still want her, and he wasn’t apologizing for last night. She would have smiled if it weren’t such a touchy subject. This attraction they had was powerful, maybe a little too powerful, especially when it got out of control. He wouldn’t like that, when he always had to be in control. But he hadn’t complained about it last night. Behind a locked door, he could let down his guard a little.

  “So that”—she sort of nodded toward the bed—“didn’t change anything, right?”

  “A little.”

  “I mean, we’re still getting the marriage annulled? Even though you’ll have to lie now?”

  He continued shaving. “You needn’t worry about that. I’ll lie for you—if that’s what you want.”

  He was doing it again, humoring her, conceding to her wishes, making it seem as if it were only up to her whether they stayed married. She supposed it was. He did offer to marry her after their first slip, and he was honorable enough to make the best of it now, if she wanted to stay married. But she couldn’t do that to him. It wouldn’t be fair if it wasn’t what he wanted.

  “Then I remove my objections to bed sharing—in case you were wondering.”

  She turned away as soon as she said it, her cheeks bright red from a blush. But he stopped her from moving any farther by placing a hand on her shoulder. Gooseflesh and a pleasant arousing sensation tingled down her arm. For crying out loud . . .

  “You don’t need to be embarrassed with me, Maxie,” he said softly. “You’ve never had trouble speaking your mind. I like that about you.”

  He did? But then there was mind speaking and being too bold, and she’d just been the latter. But he obviously didn’t want her to be embarrassed about it.

  She was about to put her hand over his when he moved his hand up into her hair gently, in a caressing way—until he suddenly fluffed it. “We have time to find a barber for you.”

  He definitely had a knack for putting her at ease when he wanted to. She turned with a laugh. “They tend to shave you bald if you don’t keep a close eye on them. I can wait till I get home. Gran does a good job cutting my hair.” But she started backing away before she added with a grin, “You might want to let her take the scissors to you. I promise she won’t cut off anything you don’t want her to.”

  He actually laughed. She stared at him wide-eyed. “Stop it,” he said, but she could still hear the humor in his tone. “That’s not the first time you’ve heard me laugh.”

  “Two times ain’t much.”

  “I laugh a lot, you just don’t see it.”

  He walked back into the bathing room to wash his face. She turned around smiling. Her husband was definitely relaxing his guard—with her.

  * * *

  Max thought her return to Texas would be more poignant, more emotional. After all, it was her home, what she knew, what she’d yearned to go back to. She was sure she’d be overwhelmed by emotion when she saw her family again, but she’d been gone from Texas long enough not to consider it anymore the only place to live. It was her family she’d missed, not Texas. Despite the excitement of the pending reunion, she was also feeling a little despondent the closer they got to Bingham Hills.

  Her problems might soon be put to rest if Degan was successful in dealing with them, but she wasn’t sure she wanted to live there anymore. She had a lot of good memories of that town, a lot of people she liked there, but she had bad memories of it now, too. And how would she be able to stay once Degan left? Wouldn’t she go right back to facing the same dilemma of Carl’s scheming to get what he wanted from her? That actually didn’t worry her as much as that she’d be parting ways with Degan pretty soon. That was the real reason for her despondency. The reason why a tight knot had settled in her chest and wouldn’t go away.

  But she had to ignore it and pretend she was just fine. Degan watched her too closely. He’d know something was wrong if she wasn’t herself. So she still teased, still joked, still tried to make him laugh with her usual lack of success. But it was hard to do when she didn’t feel cheerful.

  It was sweltering hot during the day, but they had to light the coach brazier for the night ride. When Degan had said she should consider the problem of getting stuck in a stagecoach with Grady and Saul solved, she never figured that he would buy up all the seats so they could ride alone. She couldn’t stop laughing about it. But knowing Grady, he’d probably only be about half a day behind them, maybe less, since Degan had convinced the driver to extend their last two stops so their mounts could rest.

  But it wasn’t that long a trip from Fort Worth to Bingham Hills, less than two days. They left the stage a few miles out from Bingham Hills so they could circle around on their horses and get to the farm without passing through town. She wanted a peaceful reunion with her family before Carl found out she was home.

  Then she saw it—the house she’d grown up in. She’d never realized how dilapidated it looked from a distance, which was how Degan might be viewing it. But it wasn’t. It just needed a fresh coat of paint that she hadn’t been there to see to.

  Built mostly of lumber, only the front of the house had a stone facade, which had been added after Carl had set up his quarry right near town. One story but decent-size, the house faced the woods and the rest of the property on which her grandfather had never gotten around to planting crops. On one side was Gran’s vegetable and herb garden, and on the other side was a small stable that housed their three horses and the buckboard her grandmother used to go to town to sell her eggs. Max had always preferred to walk when she did the deliveries, even before the town had grown and edged closer to the farm.

  The chicken coops were at the back of the house, facing the road into town. She could see now why Carl might get so annoyed by the sight of the coops that he’d want to do something about it. Maybe Degan was right that Carl’s interest in her stemmed from his desire to get his hands on her family’s farm—so he could get rid of it. But that just meant someone was going to end up unhappy. She still couldn’t see any resolution to the problem that would satisfy everyone.

  Then she saw her grandmother in the backyard on her way back to the house with her basket of eggs in her hand, a sight Max had seen hundreds of times before, so familiar, so heartwarming. She didn’t see any deputies pos
ted at the house, but then Carl thought he’d won when he’d gotten that guardianship decree, so they were no longer needed.

  “Are you crying?” Degan asked, standing beside her.

  “No.” She laughed as tears of happiness rolled down her cheeks. “But I’ll race you home.”

  Chapter Forty-Seven

  “GRAN! GRAN, I’M HOME,” Max shouted as she ran to her grandmother.

  Ella was so surprised to see her that she dropped the basket of eggs in the yard and rushed toward Max with tears running down her cheeks. “Finally! I wasn’t sure if this day would ever come.”

  “Me either. I’ve missed you so much!” Max cried as she held her grandmother tightly in her arms. God, she’d missed the smell of this woman, her gentle touch, her boundless love.

  “Thank the Lord you’re home. I’ve been so worried about you!”

  Max’s tears wouldn’t stop, neither would Ella’s, yet they were laughing, too, as Ella led Max through the back door into the kitchen. Ella immediately went to the stove to pour them coffee while Max sat down at the kitchen table. She glanced around the room. She’d missed this house, too. It was filled with everything her grandparents had collected over a lifetime. Every wall was covered with pictures Ella had painted. She used to paint a lot before Max’s grandpa had died. She didn’t find much time for it after that.

  Ella was only in her early sixties. She’d married young, had her kids young. Of her children, only Maxwell had survived to give her grandkids. Her blue eyes were still sharp, her hair only just starting to turn gray, which was hard to see since her hair was ash blond like Max’s. But she looked thinner than Max remembered And had more frown lines than before Max had left. These last two years had taken a toll on the Dawson family.

  Ella joined her at the table, bringing a slice of peach cobbler for Max to go with the coffee. Max smiled. Ella was a firm believer that food wasn’t just good for the body but also for the soul. She always had some sort of pie or pastry ready to serve. Grandpa might not have wanted to farm here in Texas, but he’d still planted a lot of fruit trees for his wife.