“Go away.”
“Come now, aren’t you hungry? I have some delicious eggs and biscuits with sausage gravy and—”
“I said go away!” The bulk underneath the covers moved and a battered face turned a surly look toward her.
She hesitated for a moment, unsure what she should do. She didn’t want to upset the boy and make his injuries worse, but on the other hand, he did need to eat to keep up his strength.
“I can’t.” She said and set down the heavy tray of food on the table next to the bed.
“Why the hell not?” He groused.
He was in a frightful mood this morning. Well, who wouldn’t be if they had the living daylights beat out of them. And his father was dead. Did he know she wondered? She would allow him his mood. After all, he deserved it if anyone did.
“Why don’t you sit up and I’ll help you eat your breakfast.”
“I don’t need your damn help, now get out of here and leave me the hell alone.” He growled again. He seemed well enough to rant and rave so he was probably well enough to eat on his own.
“Very well, Mr. Putnam. Here’s your spoon, fork, and knife. There’s your coffee. And the rest is up to you. If you need anything else—”
“I won’t. Now, leave me alone.”
“As you wish” She left his room and pulled the door closed, leaving a six inch opening in case he called downstairs for something, she or Aggie or Sarah could hear him.
His mood would improve in time. She wouldn’t dare chastise him for his lack of manners this morning. It wasn’t her place and besides, she knew the pain and anger that came with being alone in the world.
She had lashed out at anyone and everyone who came close enough to feel her claws. It had been a normal part of her world growing up in the orphanage. Now, she would try to use the lessons she learned at the school to help the poor boy deal with his losses. Besides, a lady was never to be impolite.
She would check on him later. In the meantime, she would wait for Doc Howard to come around and check on his patient. She promised Sarah she would send one of the Miller boys down the street to get her in case the handsome doctor arrived before she returned from the market. She had been joking, but the relief on Sarah’s face when Charity promised her, didn’t look like Sarah would find it funny to learn doc had come and gone without a word to the hard-working, and enamored, housekeeper.
Since the beating of Mr. Putnam and his son, Miles had enlisted the help of Big Angus, the Irish born blacksmith who worked for the Hanovers.
He shod the horses. Repaired the carriage harnesses. Cleaned the stalls. Cared for the horses, and just about anything else Hiram or Aggie needed to be done.
He was six foot five and Charity would guess the man weighed about three-hundred pounds of raw muscle, give or take ten or twenty pounds. No one could beat him in a fist fight, and his loyalty to Hiram and Aggie was unquestionable. He was the perfect man to station at the back door. He couldn’t hit the side of a barn with a pistol, but he could take a man’s head off with that shotgun of his.
Charity felt a little safer with him helping to guard the Hanover home. She patted her dress pocket. The hard steel of her pocket pistol gave her all the security she needed.
She was half-way down the stairs when a knock at the door pulled her attention away from her thoughts. She called out to Aggie and Hiram. “I’ll get the door.”
She rushed to the front door and swung it open wide. Standing tall and handsome in the doorway, Miles frowned at her. “What the hell are you doing?”
His attitude had certainly taken a sour direction from last night to this morning. What the hell had happened to put him in such a mood?
“Well, hello to you too, sheriff.”
Miles had left Deputy Bishop at the jail so he could check on Joshua Putnam and see how he was getting along. But none of the extra steps he was putting into place was gonna do any of his witnesses any good if people didn’t stop opening up the front door without knowing who was on the other side. And by people, he meant Charity, better known as Miss Impulsive.
“I asked you what you’re doing?” He demanded and stormed inside the house.
She stood back and allowed him to push his way inside. “I would think it was obvious, sheriff. I’m opening the door and letting—”
He cut her off. “You are opening the door and letting anyone in that knocks? That kind of defeats the purpose of having guards posted, don’t you think?”
“Seriously? Do you really think a murderer is just going to knock on the door and waltz right in?”
The spark of anger in her eyes hit him low and his body hummed with tension.
“I wouldn’t put it past someone who is determined enough to kill people, would you? I doubt they would be bashful about charging through a locked door, much less one standing wide open.”
She closed the door and turned back to face him, fire in her eyes, hands on her hips. “Well good morning to you too, sheriff.”
He breathed a slow breath in, then out. He knew he was still angry from his argument with Selina. No use picking another one with Charity so he changed the subject. “How’s Josh doing this morning?”
“I suppose as well as can be expected. He’s a little surly, but considering what he’s been through, that’s not unusual. For you either, it seems.”
Miles looked at the woman he was doing his best to avoid, but he was having less and less luck in doing that. And after last night’s flirtation at the Hanover’s table, he wasn’t sure what the hell he was going to do about it. Distance would be ideal, but that was going to be nigh near impossible when he brought his bed roll into this house this evening.
“I’ll agree I’m not the best company this morning. I’ve got a lot on my mind. How about I just go see Josh?”
Her stance softened and she reached out and touched his arm. “I’m sorry, Miles. Of course you do. I apologize for making things worse for you. And from now on, I’ll try not to be a source of tension for you. I’ll check the window in the door first to see who is there before I open it.”
Miles didn’t know whether he was more shocked at Charity’s quick surrender and acceptance of his criticism, or the word she used in describing her effect on him. Tension. Yep, there was tension alright and he had to come to grips with his attraction to her or he was going to get someone killed. And it could well be him.
He followed her up the stairs to the second floor and then down the hall to Joshua’s room. He had a lot on his mind, but the gentle swish of her skirt as it caressed her hips back and forth in front of him didn’t help his focus any. This was exactly why a lawman shouldn’t get involved. With anyone. It was hell on a man’s concentration. And his life expectancy.
He followed her into Joshua’s room. Miles saw the boy laying on the bed staring up at the ceiling. Poor kid. He’d been through a lot in the last twenty-four hours. “How are you doing, Josh?” Miles sat on the edge of the bed and waited for the boy to speak.
“I’m alright. I guess. What’s she doing here?” He refused to look in her direction.
Miles turned to Charity. “She lives here. Has she been bothering you?” Miles teased.
“Miles, that is highly inappropriate.” Charity admonished him. He grinned at her. “Charity Montgomery telling me I’m highly inappropriate? Will wonders never cease.”
She grinned back at him and he found he liked teasing her.
“Do you two mind taking that somewhere else. I’m not really in the mood. My pa’s dead. You do remember that, don’t you?” Joshua stabbed her with a hateful stare. Miles wasn’t sure what was going on here, or what had happened, but it was obvious Joshua did not care for Charity.
He had to admit the boy wouldn’t be the first person to find fault with her. Even he himself had had to arrest her more than once for behavior unbecoming a female, but since she had returned to Creede a changed woman, he had heard nothing but compliments and astonished praises—even among some of her staunchest detr
actors at the Ladies Auxiliary Club had been very complimentary of Charity’s newfound feminine behavior.
“Um, maybe I’ll wait downstairs. Let you two men talk,” Charity offered.
“No, I need to get back to the jail and relieve Deputy Bishop. I’ve hired two more men to help me and Bishop so we can get some rest. One will take turns with Deputy Bishop to guard the prisoner at the jail house. The other man will trade off with me here since this house is the one place where all my witnesses reside. I figure I can protect everyone…if I’m on the premises.”
He saw the hopeful look in Charity’s eyes. “I’m only here until the trial is over. After that, we’ll have a conviction and a hanging.”
“And what if we don’t?” Josh asked.
When Miles didn’t answer, he nodded and grimaced in pain. “That’s what I thought. You can’t guarantee nothin’. He shot another disgusted look toward Charity. “If ya’ll don’t mind, I’d like to get some sleep.” He closed his eyes and ignored them.
Charity stepped closer to the bed. “Josh, you didn’t touch a bite of your breakfast. You can’t get better if you don’t eat something.” He watched Charity fuss over the boy, tucking his sheets in and adjusting his pillow.
Josh opened his eyes and readjusted his pillow. “Sheriff?” Josh spoke up.
“Yeah, son?”
“Do I have to put up with this?”
“What do you mean?” Miles couldn’t be certain what the boy was referring to.
“Her. Do I have to put up with her fussing around? ‘Cause if I do, I ain’t stayin’ here.”
Miles turned to look at Charity. She looked as confused as he was by Josh’s declaration. She shrugged and shook her head to indicate she had no idea what was bothering him.
“Has Miss Montgomery done something to upset you?” Miles wanted to know what he needed to do to help ease the tension inside this house because it was the only chance either one of them had at surviving for another week until the trial could begin.
“Yeah, she’s done something to upset me.” Josh sat up and screamed at Charity, his face blotched with a mixture of anger and pain. “She’s the reason my pa is dead!
16
Charity couldn’t believe the hate and acrimony she saw in Josh Putnam’s eyes when he looked at her. He blamed her for his father’s death? How could he? Why would he? She had shot the robber before he could hurt someone. How could he possibly blame her?
Miles hung his head and his shoulders slumped like—like he had thought the same thing.
“I don’t know what to say, Joshua. I mean I did what anyone would do in that situation…” she looked to Miles for help, but he didn’t come to her rescue. In fact, he didn’t say a damn word.
“Miles? Tell him. Tell him I only did what any other person would do under the same circumstances. Tell him.” Emotions tightened her throat and tears burned.
Miles shook his head. “Charity, the boy’s been through a lot. He—”
“Doesn’t know what he’s saying? Is that what you’re going to tell me?” She cut a look at the boy in the bed. He glared at her and then looked away. “He knows exactly what he’s saying. He is blaming me for the death of his father. But I’m not responsible. I’m…not responsible.” She was losing her composure and she refused to fall apart in front of Miles.
She turned and rushed out the door and down the hall toward the sanctuary of her bedroom. She reached for the doorknob when a hand reached out and stopped her.
“Charity…”
She could feel the warmth of his body behind her and she wanted to just lean back against his strong chest and have him wrap her in the protective cocoon of his arms. She wanted that more than anything.
Charity stood waiting—hoping—he could read her mind, but seconds passed and hope faded when he didn’t move closer. Sadness crept into her soul.
She nodded her acceptance of her fate. Miles didn’t love her. How could he leave her standing here in pain without some sign of his feelings for her? Without some effort on his part to ease her emotional pain…and tell her he didn’t believe she was guilty of everything the boy down the hall accused her of.
She waited two heartbeats more, then shook off his hand, and opened the door to her bedroom.
“Charity…” he stammered and stood back to let her leave.
Tears blurred her vision. She couldn’t bear to look at him knowing she couldn’t hold her emotions in check. Her back to him, her protective sarcasm rose to the surface. “You’ve said that already. I knew you were a man of few words, but even you should be able to come up with something more than that. That is, if you really cared.”
“Damn it, Charity. I do care. That’s the problem.” He whispered as if he couldn’t bear to say the words.
“If this is you caring, then I’m not sure I can survive you—” Raw emotion constricted her throat and closed off her words.
Silence invaded the house and all she could hear was the horse hooves and carriage wheels rattling from the street. Two heartbeats passed and then strong hands grabbed her arms and spun her around.
“Damn it, Charity.” He pulled her roughly to him.
She looked into his eyes willing him to let go of whatever it was that was holding him back and love her. “You said that already.” She whispered again hoping he was on the precipice of giving in to his feelings for her.
His fingers pinched the skin on her arms, but she didn’t care. She locked on to his gaze and held him there afraid if she let go, she wouldn’t get him back.
Indecision contorted his face and she could see his anger and confusion chasing each other vying for control. Whatever it was that kept him from her, she had to get him to see it didn’t matter. Not to her.
Charity had missed an opportunity to pull Miles closer to surrendering early this morning to her. She would not miss that opportunity again.
Her eyes locked on his, she leaned in and brushed her lips against his. The feather light touch sent shivers of desire to her core. He inhaled sharply, but stood rigid, his arms still held her arms in a vice-like grip. But he didn’t pull away.
Charity could hear her heart beating wildly in her chest. She couldn’t catch her breath, but she pushed ahead, bucking up her courage knowing that at any moment, he would remember why he couldn’t love her and pull away again.
Tingles of desire pimpled her skin and her bones, soft and weak. She wanted to fall against him and let him sustain her weight. Instead, she brushed her mouth to the corner of his mouth. And then to his chin. And then to the place where his one dimple had creased his cheek over the years.
“Charity,” he whispered, his breath caressing her ear creating another unstoppable wave of desire in the apex of her thighs.
She wanted to whisper his name and entice him into her bedroom, but fear kept her in place. She dared not move for fear of waking that nameless enemy that lived inside him somewhere always reminding him she was not for him.
Her lips returned to his. Another feather light kiss and when he didn’t resist, she grew bolder.
She wet her lips and slide her tongue across his. A groan rose from his chest encouraging her onward. She stepped closer until she could feel the entire length of his body against hers. His desire for her was evident and her blood ignited in blinding passion. She closed her eyes and pushed her tongue into his mouth.
A guttural sound vibrated from his throat and his hands released her arms. She stood panting against him, her heart paused in mid-beat waiting to see if she had gone too far.
“Damn it, Charity,” he whispered against her lips so soft she almost missed his words.
“You said that already,” she whispered back, her lips never leaving his mouth.
His decision hung in the air. The tension in his body the only sign of his internal struggle. She raked her lips over his once more in hopes she could push him over the edge and past the point of his self-restraint.
She was not disappointed.
He pushed
her against the wall and his arms pinned her against it with the weight of his body. She couldn’t have moved if she wanted to. And she most certainly did not want to.
Hard and determined, his mouth took hers in a wave of passion that buckled her knees. Her arms circled his neck and pulled him closer. Her breasts smashed against his hard chest and she met each kiss head on. Bruised lips wrestled with each other while tongues invaded the dark moist recesses of their mouths.
She would gladly stand here forever, but she knew Sarah or Aggie or even Doc Howard could come down that hall at any moment to check on their patient. She didn’t care. Hell, no, she didn’t care at all. But she knew Miles would if he was caught unsuspecting and she wanted this breach in his defenses to be a positive memory. One he would consider repeating and not something he would regret later.
She broke the kiss and pushed him back enough to slip out of his grasp. She tugged his arm from the wall and pulled on his hand.
Without a word, her eyes begged him to follow her into her room. They both knew what would happen if he did. She hoped—no she prayed—his passion would cloud his reasons to deny them both what she knew they wanted.
His heavy hidden-gaze sent a jolt of desire through her with white hot heat and blinding light. He followed the pull of her hand. And then he stopped.
“Charity…I can’t do this.”
He closed his eyes as if to break the spell she had on him.
“Miles, why not? I love you so much. I have since the first day I laid eyes on you. I’ve changed just like you wanted me to. I’ll do anything you ask of me, just love me. Please.” She knew she was begging, but she didn’t care. She was so close to having what she wanted.
“I can’t love you because I can’t guarantee I can protect you.” He shook his head as if to clear the cobwebs of confusion from his thoughts.
“Protect me? I can protect myself, Miles. I don’t need your protection. I need your love.”
Miles left the Hanover house like the hounds of hell were biting at his heels. He had almost made an egregious mistake and the thought of him living under the same roof as Charity, knowing that her bedroom was just down the hall and only a few steps away, sent a stab of fear through his soul. How on earth could he do his job while fantasizing about the woman upstairs in her bed. The bed he was welcome in.
Charity (Brides of the Rio Grande Book 4) Page 15