Midnight Marriage

by Victoria Bylin

  She walked toward him with her arms crossed over her middle and the shawl fluttering behind her. After she sat down, he handed her the flask. “Drink up.”

  “Thank you.”

  As she gripped the pewter, their fingers brushed and she looked up. After smiling her thanks, she raised the whiskey to her lips and took three slow gulps. No sputtering for this woman—she’d tasted fire before. She lowered the flask, dabbed at her lips with her trigger finger and got ready to shoot Zeke Benton all over again. This time she’d be killing the memory instead of the man.

  Rafe took a swallow of his own and then dangled the bottle between his knees. Out of habit, he traced the roses engraved on the side. He’d done the work himself, mostly by firelight while he and Lem traded stories. Rafe had a story, too. That’s how he knew that dusk was a hard time of day.

  He turned to Dr. Leaf and made his voice strong. “Don’t feel bad, Doc. Zeke had it coming.”

  “I know. The Bentons did terrible things out at the Greene ranch. They stole the family blind, and Zeke raped the daughter.”

  “Jeez.”

  “Melissa’s seventeen and so shy that I don’t think she’d ever been kissed. When her father brought her to see me, she could hardly talk.”

  Rafe squeezed the flask, wishing it was Zeke’s throat. “You did the girl a favor.”

  “But I hated it.”

  “I know.” He took another swallow, then wiped the bottle with his shirttail and held it out for her. “Want some more?”

  She shook her head. “I have to be clearheaded for Nick.”

  “Just one?”

  She laughed softly and took the flask. “You’re a bad influence.”

  “Not tonight,” he said. “You need a friend and I’m all you’ve got.”

  After she took a last sip, Rafe corked the bottle and slid it into his back pocket. He wasn’t anywhere near forgetful, but he wanted to be her friend more than he wanted to get drunk. Trusting his gut, he lifted her hand from her lap and warmed her fingers with his. “When you think about this day, there’s just one thing to remember. Zeke Benton deserved to die.”

  Her fingers curled against his palm. “I know it was self-defense, but—”

  “There are no buts.” Rafe lifted her hand as if he were weighing gold. “You saved at least three lives—yours, mine and Nick’s.”

  “Maybe so, but I’d rather cure sore throats.”

  Rafe almost wished he had one so she’d put her hand on his forehead to check for fever. She’d have found the heat and lots of it. Just looking at her made him eager, but touching her hand made him feel something deeper, a desire to make her smile and carry some of her burdens. Still holding her hand, he stared at the trees. “I bet you’ve cured a lot of sore throats.”

  “A few, but the best is delivering a baby. That’s a joy.”

  A chill ripped through Rafe. “Not when it’s too soon.”

  “That’s true,” she answered. “Sometimes things go badly. You sound like you’ve had experience.”

  He wasn’t about to go down that road by remembering Mimi, so he thought about a night in a Leadville whore-house. He’d been with a redhead named Jennie when the screaming started. For all his casual ways, Rafe was careful to keep from putting some poor woman in that position. “I heard it once,” he said to Dr. Leaf. “The girl screamed herself hoarse.”

  Dr. Leaf nodded. “It’s an ordeal, but it’s also a happy time.”

  “Do you always see the bright side?”

  “Mostly.”

  He gave a soft chuckle. “You’re amazing, Doc. Most people run from trouble, but you run to it. I can’t decide if you’re stupid or crazy.”

  She flashed a smile. “I prefer crazy, but hopeful is more like it.”

  What she called hope, Rafe called naiveté. “Wishing for something won’t make it true.”

  “No, but it’s a start.”

  He suspected she was thinking about Duke. In Rafe’s opinion, the two weren’t suited at all. She had a fire in her belly and the rancher was a mule. Rafe could see the lack as plain as day, but Dr. Leaf was blind to it. Or maybe not…. Maybe she’d grown weary of sleeping alone and had decided to fill the emptiness as best she could.

  Rafe did it all the time. He filled the hours with whiskey and women, by engraving roses on his guns and with books. The lady doctor filled her life with her work. He admired her for it, but what did she do on a lonely night when there weren’t any sore throats to cure? Rafe knew what he did…what most men did.

  He watched as she knotted her fingers in the shawl and pressed her fist between her breasts. The faraway look on her face made him worry, so he decided to set her straight about dreams. “You know that old rhyme, ‘Star light, star bright’?” he asked.

  “‘Wish I may. Wish I might.’”

  “Don’t believe it.”

  He’d lightened his voice, but she looked so sad that he ached along with her. The moment called for a joke, a whisper, even a touch. He could feel her skirt touching his boot and her shawl tickling his elbow. He smelled vinegar, too. Just a trace from her hair, but it was enough to make him think about undoing her braid.

  “I should check on Nick,” she said.

  As she pushed to her feet, her shawl brushed his cheek and reminded him that she’d been crying. Good manners pulled him to his feet, but something else made him trace the dried tears with his knuckles. Knowing what she needed, he made his voice low. “I meant what I said about Duke being a fool.”

  “That’s kind of you.”

  “No. It’s the truth.”

  Rafe took pleasure where he could find it, and right now he saw that possibility in Dr. Leaf’s brown eyes. A better man would have waited for a flicker of invitation, but he wasn’t anywhere close to being good. Instead he cupped her face in his hands and brought his mouth down to hers.

  He tasted whiskey on her lips and made the kiss tender, warming her with his hands and mouth. He reminded himself that she’d been crying and needed a friend, but her lips had become as hot as his. She planted her hands on his chest as if she were about to shove him away, but then she curled her fingers against his shirt. Her caress tickled and teased, as if she wanted more but knew it was foolish.

  One touch of their tongues…if she pulled back, he’d let her go. Hungry for more, he teased her lips with his, telling her with a tender glide what he wanted to do. Instead of pushing him away, she slid her arms around his neck and angled her head to take advantage of the slant of his mouth. She’d been kissed before, he was sure of that. But it hadn’t been with the questions she was asking herself now. How long? How much? How far?

  Rafe was glad to supply the answers. As long as she wanted. As much as she needed. As far as she wanted to go. With their tongues tangling and lips wet with whiskey and each other, he wrapped her in his arms and pulled her hips against his.

  The doctor would know what to expect from an aroused man, but did the woman? He got his answer when she caught her breath and froze. Definitely a virgin, he decided. But then she exhaled with a slow glide that tickled his face, and he wondered if she still wanted to be one. He understood that impulse for what it was. Killing Benton had made her hungry for a taste of something good. Death made men and women alike aware of the shortness of their days and the glory of life’s pleasures.

  Rafe felt it, too. The only cure was to make the fire burn hotter and he knew how to do it. With a firm touch, he trailed his hand over her ribs and up the soft side of her breast until his thumb grazed the sensitive tip.

  She gasped and pulled back, giving him a view of the flames in her cheeks and her smoky-brown eyes. She wasn’t cold anymore.

  Neither was he and it scared him. The fire in his belly was more than a spark from two sticks rubbing together. Just for a moment, he’d wanted to steal her heart instead of a few minutes of pleasure. She made him feel whole, as if he were strong and wise and had something to share with her.

  Damn him for a fool, what was h
e thinking? Kissing wasn’t special. It was the shot that started a goddamned horse race. A man climbed on, rode hard and got off. Rafe liked women who knew the rules—whores who were grateful for the money and a man who bathed now and then. He had no interest in virgins and especially not the lady doctor.

  So why was he staring into her eyes and feeling so damned confused? Being an experienced rider of women, he knew what he had to do. It was time to grab the reins. Deliberately leering, he perused her breasts, lingering on the visible effects of his kiss. “I see you liked that, quite a bit as a matter of fact.”

  Her mouth gaped with shock. She’d probably been expecting sweet talk, but Rafe wasn’t done looking. Slow eyed and lazy, he slid his gaze to her hips, the tips of her shoes, then back to the pulse in her throat, and to her face where he saw astonishment, revulsion and, most terrifying of all, compassion.

  He didn’t want her kindness. It made him feel like Nick, a hungry kid who’d been caught stealing. But Rafe wasn’t a boy filching cookies from a jar. He teased her with a slow grin. “You’re a real prize, Dr. Leaf. In fact, I’ll up my offer for your surrey.”

  “Don’t—”

  “A thousand dollars, but I want a whole night with you, naked in a real bed.” Why the hell didn’t she leave? Rafe tried a smirk. “It’ll be your first time, won’t it?”

  He expected her to curse at him or slap his face. He had it coming and he wanted the punishment, because his intention to make her feel better had disappeared in a blaze of selfishness. But instead she still held his gaze, saying nothing as the shadows under her eyes deepened to the color of a bruise.

  Rafe ground his teeth together. He would not apologize. He had no regrets, no shame. Dr. Leaf should have left when she had a chance. She should have followed Duke to the cabin and wished on the stars until her dreams came true. For all of his pomposity, Duke was hardworking and decent. He was a family man, something Rafe would never be.

  In need of more whiskey, he walked away with a small consolation. Unless she was crazy, she’d never call him harmless again.

  Chapter Seven

  A horse whinnied in the yard, awakening Susanna from the nap she’d been taking on the pallet by Nick’s bed. Blinking, she saw that dawn had arrived. After last night’s battle with the boy’s fever, she welcomed the light. She could hear Nick breathing but found little comfort in the shallow rasps. Surrendering to a yawn, she sat up and touched his forehead. He was still burning up.

  Yesterday she had believed that dandelion tea was the best treatment. Now she wished she had told Rafe to fetch the echinacea from her clinic. She had learned about the herbal at Johns Hopkins and some doctors considered it revolutionary. Besides, if Rafe had gone to town, she wouldn’t have made a fool of herself yesterday. She could count on Tim to forget her hints about the dance, but Rafe LaCroix was sure to tease her about yesterday’s kiss.

  She still didn’t know what to think. She’d been glad for his whiskey and insight. He was intelligent and even wise. And that kiss… Desire shivered through her all over again. She’d let the spark between them burn out of control, at least until he’d made that crack about her first time. He’d been dead set on offending her and had almost succeeded, but he’d overestimated her shyness. Sex was part of life, and she wasn’t at all embarrassed by it.

  Even so, she’d been avoiding him. Twice last night he’d come in from the barn to see Nick, and each time she had stepped into the kitchen. After he’d left, she had gone back to Nick’s room, where he’d left behind the smell of whiskey and questions she’d be foolish to ask. Why was he running? Where was he from? And why had a simple kiss made him so mean?

  Susanna was checking Nick’s pulse when she heard someone race into the cabin. Emily appeared in the doorway to Nick’s room looking panicked. “It’s Chester,” she said. “He just rode in and he’s hurt.”

  Susanna reached for her bag. “What happened?”

  “I don’t know. I was gathering eggs when I saw him fall off his horse.”

  “Go find your pa.”

  As Emily went to get Tim, Susanna hurried into the yard where she saw Chester’s pinto standing at the water trough. A few feet way, she spotted the ranch hand lying on his back in the dirt, struggling to talk to Rafe who had dropped to one knee.

  “What the hell!” Tim barreled past her with traces of shaving soap lining his beard. He reached Chester before she did and was unbuttoning his coat. “Dear God, man. What happened?”

  “I dunno,” Chester rasped. “Someone took a shot at me.”

  “Who?” Tim demanded.

  “I didn’t see ’em. Figured they were after the cattle.”

  Susanna looked at Rafe who shook his head. “It had to be the Bentons.”

  Tim looked over his shoulder. “Damn you, LaCroix! That bullet was meant for you!”

  Rafe turned his head, but not before Susanna saw shame tighten his jaw.

  Tim turned back to Chester. “Did they follow you?”

  “Not a chance.” Pride rang in the hired hand’s feeble voice. “I went south and doubled back. I lost ’em, boss. For you and the girls.”

  Relief weakened Susanna’s knees, but she didn’t feel safe for more than a breath. The Bentons seemed to be headed away from the ranch, but they could always double back. Right now, Chester needed her help. Dropping to her knees, she asked, “Where are you shot?”

  “In the back.”

  He was pale and gasping for breath—signs that the bullet had collapsed his lung. “When did it happen?”

  “Last night.”

  He’d been in the saddle for hours. With every breath, more blood would have filled the lung cavity and put pressure on the heart. Pure courage—and love for the Duke family—had carried him home to warn them about the Bentons. Barring a miracle, he wouldn’t survive. She touched his shoulder. “We need to get you inside.”

  “There’s no need.” A rasping cough brought up blood.

  “It’s just like your pa said. I’m not afraid.”

  Susanna thought of her father’s many sermons about heaven. The Reverend John Leaf had a way with words. As for herself, she had seen death arrive before. Some of her patients saw loved ones and cried out with joy. Others left this earth with closed eyes and the gentle slowing of their respiration. Chester was minutes away from that divide.

  He looked at Tim. “You’re a good man, boss. Take care of the girls.”

  “Don’t talk,” said the rancher. “Save your strength.”

  But Chester’s eyelids had already drifted shut. Susanna gripped his hand and held it until he let out a breath and didn’t take another. Bowing her head, she prayed that he’d feel the peace of knowing his Lord, and that his family would be waiting for him with open arms—the wife he’d outlived by a decade, the parents he’d left in Tennessee, even the old dog he’d befriended when he’d arrived in Midas.

  Silence hovered like incense until the sudden intake of Tim’s breath broke the spell. “God damn it!” The rancher pushed to his feet and glared at Rafe. “This is all your fault!”

  Susanna stood at the same time as Rafe, deliberately putting herself between the two men. She grasped the rancher’s arm. “Tim, don’t. This isn’t the time.”

  He jerked away from her. “Then when the hell is? My family’s in danger. So help me God, LaCroix, I’ll—” Sidestepping her, Tim charged at Rafe and shoved him against the barn.

  Instead of taking a swing, Rafe sneered. “You’re going after the wrong man, Duke. We came here to warn you.”

  “That’s right,” Susanna added. “Nick needed help, but you needed to know they were in the area. Even if we hadn’t shown up, Chester would have been hurt.”

  He stared hard at Rafe. “Why are they here in the first place?”

  Susanna intervened. “Only the Bentons know the answer to that.”

  When Tim stayed silent, she turned her attention to Rafe. Tiny red veins made his blue irises even brighter, and deep creases shaped the corners of
his mouth. Had he slept at all? Probably not, she decided. Judging by his appearance, he’d been up all night, standing guard over all of them. Susanna understood that fact even if Tim didn’t. “We need to make some decisions,” she said to the rancher.

  Without taking his eyes off Rafe, Tim crossed his arms over his chest. “The boy can stay, but I want you gone.”

  Rafe shook his head. “I’m not leaving. Besides, if the Bentons show up, you’ll need help.”

  “Not yours,” Tim said.

  Susanna stifled her irritation. “We don’t have time for head-butting. Someone needs to tell the sheriff what happened.”

  “Forget it,” Rafe said. “It’s too dangerous.”

  “That’s all the more reason to get the word out,” she insisted.

  Rafe shook his head. “It would be smarter to stay put. If they come back this way, we should be ready to defend ourselves.” He shifted his gaze to Tim. “That includes Dr. Leaf. She’s a crack shot.”

  “How do you know?” the rancher countered.

  Susanna froze, but Rafe didn’t blink. “She told me.”

  Tim frowned. “That goes against my grain. She can stay inside with the girls.”

  “Good grief!” Tim’s chivalry irked Susanna, but so did Rafe’s refusal to notify the authorities. “You’re both being stubborn. I’ll go for the sheriff myself.”

  “No!” Two male voices boomed in unison.

  After giving her an irritated look, Rafe scowled at Tim.

  “It’s a fool’s errand, but I’m the one to go. Stay here with your girls.”

  “That’s fine with me,” Tim replied. “Don’t bother coming back.”

  Rafe glared at him. “Don’t hold your breath. I’ll be back for Nick.”

  Susanna was about to ask Rafe to bring the medicine when he focused on her face. She saw the criticisms of Tim he’d made yesterday along with an “I told you so” expression.

  Rafe made his voice formal. “If you don’t mind, Dr. Leaf. I need a word with you in private.”

  “Of course. I’ll be there in a minute.”

  As Rafe went to saddle his horse, Susanna laid her hand on Tim’s arm. “I’m so sorry about Chester. He’s worked for you for years.”