Kissed by the Outlaw

by Kira Barcelo

The door pushed open not long after that, meaning he hadn't gone far while she bathed. The man of the house strode into the room. He looked from the tub to her and smiled for the first time since she'd met him that day. Still, he looked away respectfully, which was good, considering she was naked under that towel.

  "Feel better?" he asked.

  "Much. Thank you. Sorry for all the trouble."

  "No trouble, Kelly. I'll take the tub out. You can change into one of those dresses. I won't watch."

  Kelly mumbled her thanks but still turned her back to him once that towel came off. It had been over a year since her divorce had been declared officially over by the court, even though it had been over long before that. No man had seen her naked in all that time, because she had never been one for casual relationships. Kelly Long had always been a one-man woman, even if her ex-husband hadn't had a faithful bone in his body.

  There had been a moment of hesitancy on her part when they'd arrived at McSwain's farm. A tense moment when she'd questioned her own sanity, putting herself in the position of being alone with the man, the nearest neighbors over a mile away.

  He had insisted that she couldn't sleep outside, with interlopers and wild animals.

  And bugs, she thought, amused that that had really been her first thought. With no blanket and no sleeping bag, the creepy crawlers out there would have terrorized her even before the bear could have gotten to her.

  Besides, Jess McSwain wasn't going to take her against her will. If he was going to do that, he would have done it already.

  Yet there she was, over a century in the past, sharing a cabin with a handsome, though rough-around-the-edges, cowboy who lived alone on his farm.

  "What kind of meat is that?" she asked as she watched him making a fire in the hearth. Was that a weird question to ask?

  His brow furrowed as if he didn't understand why she was asking. "Deer. I caught it a few days ago," he answered. "We've got potatoes and some carrots. You hungry?"

  "Yes. Very."

  "Me, too." He stopped what he was doing long enough to grin at her.

  "Those people earlier, Charles and Sarah. Are they family of yours, McSwain?"

  "No. I don't have any family. What I had is still in Tennessee or they died off."

  "Oh. I'm sorry to hear that."

  "Hm."

  She tried again. "So you don't have anyone? If you're from Tennessee, why'd you come here?"

  He took his time in replying. "I don't know if I should tell you."

  Those words surprised her. "Try me," she urged. Inwardly, she asked herself, Do you really want to know?

  Beneath that steely stare of his was something much less hard that seemed so human and born of pain.

  "I've been through a lot of these states," he confessed. "Me and my two older brothers. We were always running. Happens when you rob banks and stagecoaches and whatever else you can get. And when your brothers both killed people, including a Marshall."

  She tried not to let her reaction show on her face. A good thing, too, because he had turned fully to face her.

  "Did you ever kill anyone?" Kelly asked.

  "No. Shot a few. That was bad enough, I reckon. Sent me to jail for a few years."

  So you were an outlaw? She didn't dare ask the question outright, which she more or less knew the answer to anyway. Was he telling the truth about never having killed anyone? Or was he sanitizing the past for the purpose of not frightening her?

  "And now?" She watched him move a large pot filled with water, potatoes, carrots, and meat over the fire.

  "Now… my brothers are gone. One of them, Jared, was shot to death by a sheriff during a robbery. They hung my oldest brother, Clint, for killing that Marshall." McSwain flashed a glance but tore his gaze away. "And I just came here a couple years ago, trying to start over. I know farming. I did it for someone else after I left my brothers. Came here just for that. I want to live off the land. Stay outta trouble."

  He struck her as sincere. He could have kept all of that from her, but he chose to tell her the truth about himself.

  A reformed outlaw. Or was he truly reformed? It was sort of late for her to do anything about it. For the evening, she wouldn't be going anywhere. She had to trust him, if only for one night.

  "What about you, Kelly? You have family?"

  She decided to condense her own familial history for him, keeping it short and sweet.

  "My parents were divorced. I was actually closer to my dad, but he died of a heart attack when I was nineteen. My mother is usually busy with her career and her new husband. I have a sister, too, but we don't get along."

  "And then there's your husband."

  "Ex-husband," she corrected. "He cheated on me even before he put that ring on my finger. He finally left me for a younger woman."

  McSwain shook his head slowly. "Sorry you went through that."

  "Well, I'm over it now." Kelly shrugged. "It took me a while to get to that point, though. I kept telling myself, maybe if I was younger. And thinner and prettier…."

  "Thinner? You look fine to me. A woman's supposed to—well, be shaped like you. And there are a lot of younger women who wish they were as fine-looking as you." Almost as soon as he'd paid her the compliment, McSwain looked away. He poured his attention into checking on their supper.

  An outlaw who was trying hard to turn over a new leaf? Who was capable, too, of saying the sweetest things to a woman? You're not so bad yourself, McSwain. Kelly thought better of saying those words.

  However, in all honesty, viewing his profile like that, with those well-defined features, his slightly long hair, a day or two of growth on his face, and the way the firelight fell on him, she had to admit he was rugged and good-looking.

  He also had a hard hand that he'd applied vigorously to her poor bottom earlier. She wasn't staying; she had no intention of staying there in the nineteenth century. She was going home to the twenty-first century, where men didn't spank women.

  Or did they? She'd heard that still did happen… and it had fascinated her. Secretly, of course. That wasn't something she'd ever talked about to anyone openly. She could imagine the looks she would've gotten if she had.

  "You'll help me find the cascade tomorrow?" She changed the subject.

  His demeanor changed slightly. "Yeah, I guess so. Later on. I have work to do in the morning. Early."

  "Work? Oh… the farm." She licked her lips. "How long will that take? If I help you, will it get done faster?"

  "You want to help?" His voice went up with a lilt of surprise.

  "Sure, why not? If it'll get me back home quicker."

  "What are you going home to, ma'am? I mean, you have no family. No husband. You haven't mentioned any youngins."

  "No, I don't have any… youngins." She smiled at the word. He also smiled, though she assumed he didn't understand why. "But I do have a career. A job."

  "What kind of job?"

  "I'm a high school counselor."

  "Ah. What… exactly is that?"

  She reminded herself that she was speaking with someone who'd been taught in a one-room schoolhouse, if at all. Kelly spoke patiently and respectfully, putting her career in lay terms.

  "I talk to kids from fourteen to eighteen about their grades in school, and how they're doing in school, and about what they want to do after they graduate. I guide them towards college, or trade school, or whatever it is they want to do as a job or a career."

  "Really? That sounds important, what you do."

  "It's—well, it is." She didn't want to sound pretentious, but neither did she want to give the impression that she didn't consider her work significant in the lives of young people. "I'm also exhausted sometimes. Honestly, some days I do the work of three people. Well…"

  She rose from the bed. "Let me make myself useful. How about I cut some of this bread? Did you make this?"

  The shoes, having belonged to Mrs. Fairlane, were a touch larger than her usual size. The doctor's wife was also a few p
ounds heavier, which was fine. The dress, made of muslin, fit well but loose enough to be comfortable, and not so loose as to completely hide her figure.

  "Sarah made that. If there's not enough, you can have it. I've already had some."

  "Oh, no way, there's enough for us both."

  She would set the table, too. There wasn't much in the way of dishes or silverware, but she could set the small wood table for them. Kelly held the knife in her hand for a few seconds before cutting the homemade bread.

  Had she felt threatened, she would have had to use that knife to defend herself. That was the amazing part. The man had just finished telling her he had been jailed as an outlaw, that he'd turned his gun on others and had robbed banks and stagecoaches, most likely at gunpoint, along with his brothers. Yet she didn't feel like she was in any danger.

  Kelly hadn't noticed it before, but she saw the rifle now, propped up against the corner in the kitchen area. She didn't know much about weapons, much less about something that in 2014, would have been found in a museum or at a gun show for antique collectors.

  "I guess we have a while until dinner," she remarked.

  "Little less than an hour now. The meat should be tender by then. The stew should be ready."

  "Okay." Unable to resist, she helped herself to a slice of bread. It was day-old, but it tasted heavenly and cut the edge off her hunger.

  "Have more if you want, Kelly. And there are some apples. Just don't spoil your supper."

  His eyes were smiling and his tone was kind, not scolding. Mimi, who had made herself at home, was curled up at McSwain's feet. She raised her head when she heard the crunch of bread, and he scratched her head affectionately.

  "I think Mimi wants a piece," he said.

  "I know. Poor little girl."

  Kelly felt his gaze on her as she fed a small piece of bread to her pet. He had been stealing glances at her every now and then, when he didn't think she was looking.

  Long glances filled with longing. Desire. Lust.

  What was going on with her? Instead of being fearful or defensive, she felt a twitch of arousal.

  Me and the ex-outlaw, out here in the middle of nowhere, getting naked and hot together.

  What a strange place she was in that day, mentally and emotionally. Maybe she would wake up in the morning and realize it had all been a dream. That she was back home in Huntersville, still struggling to lose eight stubborn pounds. No cowboys, no Wyoming, no sexy but stern former bad boy.

  That would come as a disappointment, she realized reluctantly.

  No. Stop thinking like that. Home, home, home. Click your heels three times and snap out of it!

  This wasn't one of those old romance novels. This was her life. She knew herself well enough to know she wasn't the type to not become emotionally involved. That wasn't going to happen. That couldn't happen.

  When the stew was done, she ate slowly, savoring every bite of the meat, vegetables, and broth. A ladle full was poured into a smaller bowl for Mimi, who ate appreciatively and quickly. Between them, Kelly and McSwain finished what was left of Sarah's bread. She broke off morsels and dipped them into her bowl, collecting every last delicious drop of broth.

  "What does it mean when it does that?" McSwain was referring to her cell phone, which she had left on a corner of the table.

  She had forgotten all about her phone at that point, which had all day long given her one specific message: No Service. No phone, no internet. Like Robinson Crusoe, as nineteenth century as could be. Those chimes were loud before the screen went totally black.

  "It means I'm even further from home now," Kelly told him, trying to ignore the anxious feeling rising in her.

  * * * * *

  The hardest thing Jess McSwain had done in the longest time was to sleep in the same bed with a woman, knowing he had to keep his calloused hands to himself.

  He stopped to rest from tossing the canvas bags of vegetables onto the wagon. He wiped the sweat from his brow with his handkerchief, remembering what it was like the night before. She had just bathed so she smelled like soap and femininity and temptation all rolled into one enticing package. Clearing his throat, he continued with his work. He tried in vain to chase away the thoughts that kept swirling through his mind.

  Every night he slept in that cabin alone. Last night he'd had trouble falling asleep, though he'd done a good job of laying perfectly still in the dark and pretending not to be affected by another body beside him in the bed.

  A high school counselor. He tossed those words over in his head as he watched her helping him by gathering the eggs laid by the chickens, as she said she would. Whatever that vocation was he rightfully assumed it had required more schooling than he'd gotten as a boy. True, he could read and write, and he understood arithmetic enough to know if he was being treated fairly when it came to doing business.

  That didn't meant he was anywhere near as schooled as she was. Realizing that made him feel glum, as he watched her out of the corner of his eye.

  Why should that make a difference? Why should you care if she's more educated than you?

  It didn't take much education, he surmised, to rob a train. Neither did it take some fancy school to work the land, harvest crops, raise chickens, and milk a cow.

  Or rather, a handful of cows, since he currently only owned four of the animals.

  To his credit, he had less education, yet he'd always managed to remain in the time and place where he belonged. He'd never fallen through some supernatural "portal," as he'd heard Kelly call it, and ended up an unwitting traveler to another place and time.

  "You said we'd cut it short today," Kelly reminded him. "So we can go look for the cascade."

  McSwain didn't argue with her. "I did say that. We'll be going to town in a few minutes. And then when we come back, we'll look for…it."

  Look for what? He'd already told her he didn't know where to find a waterfall. He'd never seen a waterfall in those parts. He'd staked a claim to his land and had begun building and working on it, like any other farmer, rancher, and sheepherder in those parts. McSwain had done only enough exploring of those woods to discover what he did and didn't have at his disposal.

  "I don't suppose you're going to let me stay here," she was saying when he hitched the horse to the wagon.

  He answered without looking at her. "Why wouldn't I?"

  "I figure you want go about your business of selling your produce. And I can go about mine of getting back home."

  His heart sank, though he was too proud to show it.

  "If you stayed in the house, that'd be one thing. But you're talking about wandering through these woods." Avoiding her eyes, he went on, "I don't feel right doing that. If anything happens to you…" McSwain let his voice trail off. He couldn't really force her to come with him again. The plain fact was that she didn't want to be there.

  One thing was certain—sleeping in the same bed with him hadn't affected her at all. Not if she was still insisting on going back to the life she knew.

  "All right. I can wait until we get back, McSwain. But I do have to leave." She pulled herself up onto the wagon in the seat beside his as the driver. "I can't stay here."

  "I think we've already established that."

  "You don't have to get all testy with me. I mean I can't stay here, in this time. I mean… never mind."

  Moments passed before she spoke again. McSwain thought they would ride that way in chilly silence, all the way to town.

  "I mean I'm afraid to stay," she corrected herself.

  Now he turned to her, frowning. "Afraid of what?"

  "Because—well, first of all, where would I go? I can't very well expect you to keep putting me up in your home forever."

  Uncomfortably, he shifted in his seat and shook the reins. How could he respond to that? He knew what he wanted to say. He wanted to tell her that she could stay for as long as she pleased. As long, that is, as she followed his rules and respected his authority in that home. Before he could me
ntion it, she spoke up again.

  "Not to mention that I'm no good at this." She shook her head in dismay.

  "At what, you mean?"

  "At being a frontiers woman. Look, where I come from, we go to the store and buy bread. We don't make it. Well, okay, some people do—but I've never made bread a day in my life."

  "You can learn," he said matter-of-factly.

  "Well, I can't sew, either. And other than help you by braving the chickens to get their eggs, I'm pretty useless on a farm. I went to school for years and got a degree, but nothing prepared me for this. This is a lot harder."

  In spite of himself, he was amused. Keeping his smile at bay, he spoke gruffly to her, reiterating, "Woman, you'll learn. Give yourself time. And you can stay with me for as long as you'd like, as long as you respect my rules and be good."

  Kelly bristled visibly at those words. She folded her arms across her chest. "Your rules?" she echoed with an arched eyebrow.

  "My rules. Yeah. I expect you to obey them."

  "Obey!"

  What the devil was wrong with that woman? She was behaving as if he'd used a cuss word around her.

  Without stopping the wagon he began, "Let's get this straight between us right now, Kelly. I wouldn't do anything to hurt you. My rules are just that: my rules. I'm the man, you're the woman. The man lays down the rules, and the woman obeys them. They're for your own good, anyway."

  "For my own good? Really now," she mocked him. Well, I won't be 'obeying' your rules because I won't be staying here that long."

  "That's fine. But as long as you're under my roof, you'll obey. You act like a disobedient child, you'll be treated like a disobedient child. I do believe you know what I mean by that, Miss Kelly Long."

  "Yes, I know!"

  She turned her face from him so he wouldn't see her blush, and she gave her head a haughty shake.

  McSwain knew he shouldn't have found it so… so… what was the word he was looking for?

  Alluring. That was it. Kelly Long was alluring. With a look, with a nod of her head, with the way she was thrusting out her chest that way. He could clearly make out the curve of her breasts beneath the fabric of her dress.

  He hadn't seen her naked, but he could tell her breasts were full. For a woman her age, they were also firm. Lovely. McSwain allowed himself a moment to picture taking those breasts in each of his large hands.