Love's Revenge (Entangled Scandalous)

by Avery, Joan

  The moon must have risen, for the newly fallen snow that capped the mountains had a life of its own. It glistened and sparkled enticingly in the cool blue light. Tomorrow they would be alone in these mountains. Alone with each other. The mountains would be their touchstone, the means to determine the true value of their feelings for one another.

  She crawled into bed, her back against the headboard. She knew as well as he that something was terribly unfinished between them.

  …

  Kate awoke suddenly in the middle of the night. Something was wrong. Terribly wrong. She listened. There was only silence.

  But something had awoken her. She was sure of it.

  The scream that had torn through her dreams and left her panting for breath repeated itself. It came from Stephen’s room.

  She rushed to the door of her room and opened it a crack. The hall was quiet. The moon, high in the sky, cast a lone blue streak through a window at the far end of the dark corridor. It raced along the bare wood floor only to stop just short of her door.

  Kate could hear his moans now. She crossed the narrow hallway in two steps. The cold wood floor sent a chill up her spine. Her heartbeat pulsed in her ears. She listened carefully at the door. There was no movement. Clearly no one else was in the room. But neither were there words to explain the guttural noises. Was he having a nightmare? She knocked at the door. There was no answer—only the muffled sounds of pain.

  Desperate, she tried the door. It opened soundlessly and she stepped into the darkness.

  The moon had moved beyond his window. All that remained of it was a soft haze that filled the room. Nothing appeared amiss. Then she saw him.

  He was asleep, if sleep were the proper term. She closed the door behind her and approached him. He lay face down on the bed. The linens had been thrown off to his waist. The wreck of his back lay raw in the blue mist of light. His body was tense. The muscles of his back contorted. His hands clenched.

  He twitched suddenly, his hands clawing at the bed sheets, his guttural moan unearthly.

  Kate watched helplessly, his agony her own. The dark scars that crisscrossed his back told a story of pain that was clearly still alive in his mind and his soul. She moved to the bed, unsure of what to do.

  Hesitantly, she reached out to wake him. He jerked in response to her touch and once again moaned.

  Even more gently, she laid her hand on the rugged terrain of his back. This time he did not move. Her eyes filled with tears as her fingers traced the rivers of pain that marred his back. What agony he must have endured. The fretwork of scars and lesions created a map of misery and torture.

  Her heart broke for him. Her distress threatened her reason.

  She couldn’t help herself. Bending over the ragged remains of his back, she traced one particularly ugly welt with kisses.

  “Stephen,” she whispered.

  She crouched beside the bed, her head level with his. “Stephen.” She touched his sweat-covered brow and pushed away a lock of black hair. She let her hand rest on the strong line of his jaw and stroked his stubbled cheek with her thumb.

  “Stephen, wake up.”

  Slowly he opened his eyes. He lay quietly for a long moment before he spoke. “I didn’t think you were real.”

  “Do I look like part of your nightmare?” she asked with a tentative smile.

  “No,” he whispered, “you look like part of a dream.” He reached out and gently stroked her cheek. “But I can’t be sure.”

  Kate leaned forward and kissed him softly. “And now?”

  “Now,” he said, “I’m sure it’s a dream.”

  He rolled back on his side and drew her up until she sat beside him on the bed. As he did, the bedclothes shifted. The crumpled sheet lay low on his abdomen, well below his waist. He was completely naked.

  She studied the muscled planes of his chest and the soft dark hair that tapered down to his waist and below. He followed her gaze.

  “Love me, Kate,” he whispered.

  She closed her eyes, her mind warring with her heart and her body.

  When she did not answer, he begged for even more. “Trust me, Kate.”

  He eased her down until she lay beside him.

  He rose up on an elbow to study her. Nestling his hand into her hair, he stroked her cheek with his thumb.

  “I think I have made a terrible mistake,” he whispered.

  Kate’s breath caught. She could not inhale. Could not exhale.

  “I think I have fallen in love with you.” His breath stirred the fine hairs at her temple.

  “Is that a mistake?” She smiled.

  “You must tell me,” he urged. She removed his hand from her hair and pressed a kiss into his palm.

  She looked into his eyes and was lost in their black depths. Whatever it was he hid from her, it didn’t shadow the love reflected there. Trust him. At this point she could do no less.

  He bent and brushed her lips with his own. There was a hesitancy that comes only with love. He pulled back as if asking her acquiescence.

  She wanted him. Wanted to bury herself in him. Pass through him and be changed. Now that was possible. She reached up and cradled his face in her hands. She guided him back until his lips met hers and then she opened her mouth to guide him still farther into her.

  His lust overpowered her. His hand moved into her hair, pulling her mouth hard against his. His tongue explored every recess, every cranny, and withdrew so that his lips could caress the sensitive corners of her mouth.

  His hand slipped from her hair down the silk that clung to her back until he could grasp her buttocks and press her into him.

  The feel of his erection hard against her sent a tremor to her very core. She arched her body and let her head fall back. He took what she offered, seeking out the soft indentation at the base of her neck with his tongue. Her desire quickened. She found new pleasure in the warm, rough texture of his tongue stroking the sensitive skin of her neck. A shiver rushed through her and his body tensed.

  From the first moment she had seen his dark eyes in the crowd in St. Louis, she had wanted him. From his first touch, from his first kiss, there had been a sense that their relationship was incomplete. Now, here in his arms, she would finally find what she desired. She could not stop now. Not until she was satiated.

  He slid up her body until he could seal her eyes with kisses. His teeth and tongue teased her ears attuned now to the slightest movement, the slightest pressure. A jerked response in her center followed his every nibble, his every lick.

  She could stand it no longer. She guided him back to her lips. She started at the small indentations at the side of his mouth, teasing and cajoling until he moaned. She moved her mouth over his and began to explore him as he had her.

  He grasped her waist and lifted her onto him as he rolled to his back. His hands moved to her thighs and he pulled her up until she sat at his waist. His gaze overflowed with desire. She felt powerful and helpless all at the same time.

  He pushed back the soft silk of her wrapper, gliding it down her arms until it lay in a limp pile at her waist. He nudged it and it slithered onto the floor.

  She closed her eyes as a strong finger traced the line of her chin and down the side of her neck. Both his hands cradled her face and drew her down to be kissed again. His long fingers worked the satin ribbons of her silk nightgown. Anticipation brought the fine hairs on her arms alive and upright. She could hear her heartbeat loud in her ears. The slowness with which he worked was agony and ecstasy at the same time. She watched him watching her. He seemed pleased that she found the slow pace as exciting as he did. He was teaching her the pleasure to be found in anticipation.

  When the last ribbon was freed, he laid his hands across her chest with his thumbs nestled into the hollow at the base of her throat. He slowly spread his hands across her shoulders, removing her gown. The warmth of his touch moved down her arms and the coolness of the night air found her breasts. He pushed the gown still lower until it
fell across her thighs as she straddled him.

  Slowly, almost reverently, he covered her breasts with his hands and closed his eyes. He cupped them and cradled them, letting his thumb glide over the firmness of her nipples. Once again, an invisible string, taut to breaking, carried the stimulation to the apex of her thighs where she was swollen and full...and wet with need.

  She bent over him and kissed his eyelids. She kissed his temples and his forehead, while he found the dark areoles of her breasts with his tongue and circled them, tempted them, one after the other. Her nipples, hard and erect, found pleasure in his breath as it warmed them. Together they explored, advancing and retreating as their passion flared and burned. Finally he rolled over, taking her with him until she was under him.

  He moved along the length of her, planting kisses down her breastbone and on her stomach. And he did not stop there.

  “No,” she gasped, grabbing his hands where they cradled her hips.

  “Trust me, Katherine, I won’t hurt you.” His voice was barely above a whisper. It carried a tenderness he had never expressed before. It melted the last shreds of her resistance.

  He pressed a kiss at the edge of the soft curls that nestled above her thighs.

  “I won’t hurt you.” His voice shook with emotion.

  The tenseness left her and was replaced by anticipation. He kissed her inner thighs and again into the soft curls. She moaned with the pleasure of his explorations.

  She laid her hands softly on his head, a blessing of sorts. The soft silkiness of his hair slid through her fingers. She could explode from the need he called up. She was frantic for release.

  Suddenly, he stopped.

  “Stephen.” She was confused, unsatisfied. “Please,” she pleaded, in frustration.

  “Shhh. Shhh.” He consoled as he moved up. The curls on his chest burned a path up her belly and across her breasts.

  He was bold and hard between her legs, poised at the apex. She was desperate for release.

  “Stephen,” she called out in a whispered frenzy.

  He entered her. He hesitated at a point of resistance and then pushed completely into her, invading her swollen flesh. A slight pain, nothing more, but still it was not enough.

  He paused, retreated, and entered her again. She had never experienced anything so exquisite in her life. The next time he entered her, she moved toward him as he thrust and she groaned with pleasure. He throbbed inside her and she groaned again. She was lost. Lost in the ecstasy. Abandoned to the pure visceral pleasure of the moment.

  Her breaths came in short pants to match his. Short and quick, their speed escalating. Her body seized in an overpowering convulsion.

  He stifled a cry before he convulsed as well. His movements slowed. She reached out for him and drew him down on her, until he lay across her, his head next to hers. She ran her hands consolingly over his back as his ragged breathing slowed and his body relaxed.

  “Katherine... Katherine... Katherine,” he whispered over and over in her ear, his warm breath causing her to shiver with delight. His hand caressed her cheek. “Are you all right? Did I hurt you?”

  “No, I’m not hurt,” she whispered.

  She was left with an emptiness, a barrenness as he pulled out of her. “No,” she protested quietly.

  He rose up on an elbow. “No, what?” He smiled at her.

  She didn’t know what she was about to say until she said it. “Don’t leave me. Not now, not ever.”

  …

  Kate awoke enfolded in his arms. Outside the window, the sun was just striking the tops of the mountains, its rays setting their snowy heights aglitter. Her heart sparkled as well. It effervesced with happiness.

  “I saw that smile.” His breath dodged her ear and rushed down her neck. She shivered and pressed into him for warmth. His body responded. She rolled onto her back and her smile broadened.

  “What’s that smile about?” he asked and then kissed her softly on the lips.

  “It’s about you,” she said, and it was the truth. If last night in the forgiving darkness their lovemaking had been tentative, she was ready to make amends.

  If last night was a dream, today she was eager to make it a reality.

  If last night he had been desirable, this morning in the early sunlight, he was magnificent. She reached over and let her palm nestle against his cheek. He kissed her hand.

  “Love me, Stephen,” she said. “Love me.”

  And he did.

  Thoroughly and magnificently.

  Sated, Kate drifted off to sleep. The sun was well above the horizon when she stirred again. A smile crossed her lips. Then her memory forced her to move.

  “Where are you going?” Stephen asked as Kate rose from the bed.

  “I must go... Otto may come at any time.” She slipped her nightgown over her head and bent to retrieve her wrapper.

  His smile faded. “You’re right, of course.” He sat naked at the edge of the bed.

  “I’ll come for you in an hour,” he said. “We have supplies to purchase for our trip.”

  She nodded.

  “Come here.” He extended a hand.

  She took it and he pulled her to him. “Katherine, I shouldn’t have—”

  “Shhh. I was not unwilling.”

  “But—”

  She quieted him with a kiss. “I’ll expect you in an hour then.”

  …

  Kate was just finishing the last of the buttons on the front of her dark blue day gown when there was knock at the door. She smiled and hurried to answer.

  “Miss Barker.”

  A stranger stood at the door. His plaid suit and derby hat made it clear he was not from Canon City.

  “My name is Gilhooley, miss. Patrick Gilhooley.” He opened his jacket. “I’m the Pinkerton man working on your investigation.” Kate spotted the identification badge he wore pinned to his suede vest.

  For a moment Kate couldn’t think, didn’t react.

  “Are you all right, miss? I’ve had one heck of a time trying to catch you. Just missed you in Denver. Can we talk?”

  “Yes, yes of course.” Kate stepped back in a daze.

  The Pinkerton man. It had been so long ago. So far away. And now it seemed inconsequential.

  “Pardon me, Mr. Gilhooley. You must think me terribly rude. It’s just that…”

  “That’s all right, miss. I know it’s terribly early in the morning, but I wanted to reach you before you left again. I’ve been riding all night to catch you. I’ve got that information you wanted on Stephen Worth. Maybe it’s better you sit down.”

  She stepped back into the room and sat down in the straight-backed chair.

  The man had removed his hat and now twirled it nervously in his hands as he waited in the doorway. She hesitated. Then, reassuring herself that nothing could change the feelings that wrapped her warmly, she asked, “Well, Mr. Gilhooley, what have you found out?”

  “You wanted to know where Worth’s been for the last two years. He’s been right down there.” Gilhooley nodded toward the end of town.

  Suddenly, horrified, she knew what he was going to say before he said it.

  “Worth’s been in prison these past two years for murdering your sister.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Kate sat frozen in place. Numb and empty inside, it was several moments before she rose. She turned away from Gilhooley and walked unsteadily to the window. The rays of the morning sun had just reached the whitened walls of the prison.

  The nightmares! The secret! The betrayal!

  She couldn’t think, could barely move. She put her hands on either side of the window and steadied herself.

  “Are you all right, Miss Barker?” the Pinkerton man asked.

  She shook her head. No! She wasn’t all right!

  “Shall I fetch someone for you?” the flustered man offered.

  She made a noise: half laugh, half strangled sob. Who was he to summon? Stephen Worth? She remembered last night...this m
orning. Their lovemaking. She was rent by an agonizing pain, like a sword being driven between her legs and up into her heart.

  She pressed a hand into the wool of her dress that covered her stomach. Her passion had betrayed her.

  “Shall I continue?” the Pinkerton man asked.

  “Yes. I’m sorry, Mr. Gilhooley. Please continue,” she whispered.

  Gilhooly took a single step into the room, leaving the door open behind him. He cleared his throat. He checked his notes in a small book. “Worth was released just a few weeks ago on the say of an Indian. Ouray was the Indian’s name. Ute.” The man continued without looking up. “At the trial, the court wouldn’t take the chief’s word that Worth was in the Ute camp at the time of your sister’s death. It took an appeal to the higher court to get him released. I guess his Denver friends rallied around him and petitioned the governor.”

  Peg, Dusty, Otto... This was what they had been hiding? How could they? How dare they?

  “What happened to my sister?” Her voice cracked. “How did she die?”

  I’m not sure you really want to hear this, miss,” the man mumbled.

  She whirled around to face the man. “I believe I’m paying for your services, Mr. Gilhooly.” It was like sticking a hot knife in an open wound, but she had to know the truth.

  “She was shot to death at close range with a shotgun in her home,” Gilhooley blurted out.

  “And Andy? Was the baby there?”

  “Far as I can determine, he was.” The Pinkerton man worried his small notebook between finger and thumb.

  “They arrested Stephen Worth?” She fought for control.

  “Yes, Miss Barker. Nobody could find him when they found her body and the baby. But when he turned up in town several days later, he was arrested.”

  “Why? Why would he kill her?” Her voice was flat despite the fact that the question screamed in her head.

  “Folks said she was going to leave him. Leave him and take the boy back with her to St. Louis. Said he was none too happy about that.”

  Was Lizzie fighting him for Andy? Kate knew what that was like. Was last night... this morning, just a ploy? Did he plan to kill her too? But why would he leave the baby behind? Andy could have died. Her mind was running wild. She placed her palms at her temples and lowered her head. The horror of it all left her faint.