by Stacey Kayne
Stop being such a coward and open the door.
Placing a palm on the door handle, he drew a deep breath. Light spilled out into the dim hallway as he eased the door open. An oil lamp burned brightly on a night table beside a single-wide bed. Skylar was crumpled forward, crying into the bedcovers. A long white nightdress was draped over her slender body.
Tucker stepped into the small bedroom and closed the door behind him. He inched toward the bed then sat beside her. Her body shook with her soft cries. Knowing he couldn't do or say a damn thing to make her feel better was a personal torture.
Tentatively, he placed a hand on her back and lightly stroked the length of her spine. When she didn't respond to his presence or his touch, Tucker tossed his hat onto the floor and slid an arm under her legs as he eased her onto his lap.
"Don't cry, angel," he soothed, holding her against his chest, wishing like mad he could ease her pain.
Skylar slowly became aware of the large palm stroking her back. The soothing sound of Tucker's voice drew her from the haze of grief that had engulfed her. Unaware of when he'd even entered the room, she was stunned to realize she'd been lifted onto his lap and wrapped in his arms.
"I'm sorry, Skylar," Tucker whispered, his voice thick with emotion.
"I don't know what's wrong with me," she sniffled, burying her face against his chest as another wave of tears surged for release. "I don't usually cry."
"You don't usually get shot either, honey. Hell, I'd probably be bawling my eyes out too if that doc had been digging in my shoulder."
"Please don't tell Garret."
"Shh," he soothed. "Don't fret, angel girl. I won't breathe a word."
The deep vibrations of Tucker's voice and his tender embrace didn't help to slow the flow of Skylar's tears. She'd not been held so gently since before her mother died. Needing the security of his strength, accepting the comfort of his embrace, Skylar gave up trying to fight her tears and cried against his shoulder.
Tucker's hand continued to move across her back in soft, soothing strokes as he whispered against her hair. When she finally managed to dry her eyes and catch her breath, she eased away from his damp shirt. Warm green eyes held her gaze. His lips twitched with a hint of a smile.
Dear God, he was handsome. With the doctor and his wife continually calling her Mrs. Morgan, she couldn't help but wonder what it would be like to truly be the wife of Tucker Morgan. She imagined those thoughts had started her tears. Regardless of Tucker's scorn toward marriage, she'd decided he would be a good husband. He was sweet, patient, funny and kind. If he wasn't so damned attractive and didn't make her feel so fuzzy-headed every time he flashed a smile, she'd probably really like him.
The thought nearly made her smile...or cry, she realized, her eyes burning again. She shook her head and dropped her gaze to her lap. She couldn't think straight.
Must be the elixir. It was working, she realized. The pain in her shoulder was nothing more than a dull ache.
"I'm tired," she said, certain she'd never felt so drained in all her life. "No wonder my father didn't tolerate tears," she muttered. "Producing all that moisture is damn exhausting."
Of course, if her father had been true to his word, she would have had a home years ago instead of winding up at the butt end of nowhere, crying her eyes out to the most handsome man she'd ever known.
"I'll help you get under the covers," Tucker said, easing her onto the bed and tugging the blankets back.
Skylar didn't argue, allowing him to help her into bed. He pulled the blankets up to her chin and tucked them in around her shoulders, all nice and cozy like, and she couldn't help but grin. Tucker constantly did little things that surprised and annoyed her, like saddling her horse in the morning, warming water just for her to wash up with at night, making sure she always got her share of the meals when she came into camp late. And coffee. He'd fill her canteen full of coffee when she had the evening watch.
The man's infernal tendency to care for her had made her realize all that her father had never done, the consideration he'd never shown. She wondered why her father had even come for her and Garret after their mother died.
Pride and obligation, she figured. Zachary Daines had definitely considered himself to be a righteous man. So why hadn't he kept his word? We can't quit driving stock until I've saved enough money to buy my own ranch.
That was always his excuse, yet she'd never been able to uncover any type of savings. Like an idiot, she'd handed over all the money she earned that wasn't spent on food and clothing for herself and Garret, thinking it was going toward her home. All she ever got were new assignments, more calluses and empty promises.
After breaking his leg two years back, her father's ambition had taken a serious dive. He'd become real good at barking out orders then disappearing for days at a time, and Skylar gave up on waiting for him to fulfill his promise. Handling most of their business affairs herself, she'd started her own savings, all of which was in her saddlebags that had been left behind in Arizona.
She'd never really discussed her plan with Garret, knowing he couldn't keep a secret to save his sweet soul, but she'd been so close to taking her brother and pulling up stakes, until her father waved that damn deed in front of her face, saying, Didn't I tell you I'd get you a home Sky?
He had. And she fell for his illusion, again. If she couldn't trust her own father, who could she trust?
No one.
With another surge of tears burning at her eyes, Skylar fixed her gaze on the ceiling and drew deep, steady breaths, determined not to lose her composure again, knowing Tucker was standing nearby. She glanced beside her as he leaned over the night table. Lamplight gilded the blond strands of hair flipped up over the top of his ear, giving a halo effect to the circular ripple his hat had pressed into the thick golden waves that swirled around his head. His halo faded as he turned down the wick, reducing the bright light to a warm glow.
"Are you all right, Skylar?" he asked, his eyes looking deep into hers as he stepped closer to the bed.
Tucker's voice saying her name seemed to echo off the four surrounding walls as she settled into the soft mattress, burrowing into the warm covers. She liked the way he always called her Skylar. Her father had shortened her name and her hair when she'd begun to drive cattle.
"The bed linens smell of soap," she said, turning her face toward the fluffy white pillow, and drawing in a deep breath. "I like the smell of soap."
Tucker stared down at her, not sure how to respond to such an odd statement. But then, he supposed a girl who'd spent most of her life on cattle trails would be partial to the scent of soap.
"It's so quiet," she continued. "It's nice to be inside. Don't you think, Tuck?"
"Yeah," he said lamely, sure this was the laudanum talking. The bleakness in her red-rimmed eyes tore at his heart. He sat on the edge of the narrow bed and stroked a hand through her sweat-dampened hair, watching her eyelids lower halfway.
"I don't recall the last time I slept in a clean bed, surrounded by four walls." She pulled in a deep breath and slowly released it. "I want to go home...but I don't have one."
Tears swelled into her large blue eyes, and Tucker felt his heart shatter, the broken shards ripping through his chest. How was it that this woman had the power to make him feel so damn much?
He didn't like it.
"He promised us a home," she said.
Giving in to the powerful urge to comfort her, Tucker eased farther onto the bed and stretched out beside her. Lying on his side, he folded an arm under his head and reached out to her with the other. Gently, he brushed a few golden strands of hair away from her face and tucked them behind her delicate ear. He was amazed she didn't pull away from his light touch.
She met his gaze with glistening eyes. "I want to go home," she whispered.
"I'll take you home," he said, wanting desperately to ease the pain in those sapphire eyes. "I swear it, Skylar."
"I'm so tired," she said again.
"I know you are, darlin'." He inched a bit closer and draped his arm across her waist. "Rest. I'll watch over you."
She blinked sleepily. The smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. "Like a guardian angel?"
Tucker couldn't help but grin, seeing her lips stretched in the sweetest smile. "More like a fallen angel. But I'll keep you safe, sweetheart."
Skylar's eyes widened a fraction. "You called me sweetheart."
Tucker held her gaze for a long, silent moment. "So I did. You're not gonna sock me in the nose for being fresh, are you?"
Her bright smile warmed his chest.
"I can't," she said, her smile dropping into a frown. "You've packed me in so tight I couldn't scratch my nose if I wanted to."
"So I have," he said, laughing as he eased up to loosen her covers.
"I like that about you, Tuck," she said, pulling her right arm free from the blankets as he folded them back. "How do you do it?"
"Do what, angel girl?" he asked, amazed she liked anything about him, and thinking he'd been a fool to fold back those blankets, exposing her feminine curves beneath an all-too-thin veil of white.
"Smile so easily?" she said. "Make light of life when it's so blessed hard?"
Tucker lifted his gaze to her solemn eyes, not knowing how to answer, wishing he had the power to continually bring smiles to her pretty lips and warmth into her eyes. Aching to give her comfort, not knowing how, he lowered his head and brushed his lips across her pouting lower lip in a light caress. He hadn't meant to actually kiss her, but when he felt her lips part beneath his, he couldn't bring himself to pull away. A single touch of her tongue to his and he was lost. He slid his hand behind her head, tilting her face up as he melded their mouths in a seamless bond. Fire roared through his veins as he yielded to her slow, contented exploration.
Drowning in the heady taste of her warm, welcoming mouth, his hand followed the graceful curve of her neck down to her shoulder. His fingers probed the bulk of her bandages under the thin cotton nightdress, and reality lashed him like a whip.
He was fully taking advantage of her hazy state of mind! And she was shattering his with every timid stroke of her velvety tongue.
Tucker tried to pull away, but was distracted by her plump lower lip. With a groan of growing need, he drew the delicate flesh gently between his teeth. When Skylar nibbled back, her fingers threading into his hair, their mouths became locked in a wild mating of tongues.
He needed to stop. He had to stop!
Struggling for clarity and restraint, Tucker forced himself to release her mouth and ease back.
Skylar looked as dazed as he felt. "What was that?" she asked, her breath rushing in and out in short gasps.
Tucker was asking himself the same question. He'd never kissed or been kissed more fully in his life. "Angel kisses," he said, certain he'd just been kissed by a heavenly being.
Her lazy grin caused him to chuckle. Lord, she was the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen when she smiled like that, with warmth shining in her glazed eyes.
"I like the way angels kiss," she said, her fingers still twirling in the hair at the back of his collar.
"So do I, angel girl."
He'd been entertained by a few women whose kisses were nice enough, but he'd never been one to dawdle with such foreplay. Yet just kissing Skylar was an exquisite pleasure in itself.
She flashed a seductive smile, then tugged on a strand of his hair, pulling him back to her lips. Tucker groaned, knowing he shouldn't, even as he took her mouth as completely as she took his.
Overwhelmed by the sheer wonder of her passion, his hand slid from her waist to the curve of her hip. The supple flesh beneath her thin nightdress burned his fingertips. His body ached with the need to caress more of her. All of her.
He swallowed her soft moans as she continued to devour his mouth. She shifted against him, and his hand slipped from her hip to the lush swell of her backside.
A torrent of fire exploded within Tucker's body. He smoothed his hand over the soft rounded pad, so tempted to haul her against his hard, aching flesh.
No woman had ever gotten him so hot with just kisses.
Groping for restraint, Tucker reminded himself that Skylar was heavily medicated. Any further advances and he'd be taking blatant advantage of her. Hell, he was already taking advantage of her!
"Skylar," he said in a heavy breath, lifting his head to gaze up at the spot of light on the ceiling. "Honey, we have to stop"
She didn't release her sturdy grip around his neck, holding him close as she nuzzled against him. Her warm breath swirling across the skin of his throat wasn't helping to cool his violently aroused body.
"You taste...nice," she said, sounding drowsy.
Tucker felt her smile as she pressed her cold nose against the bend of his neck. She was torturing him! He'd dreamed of having his hands and mouth all over her sweet body, but her sensuality surpassed anything he'd conjured up in his mind.
Too bad she doesn't know what in hell she's doing, he thought, knowing she wouldn't be lying pliant in his arms if she weren't injured and drugged.
Employing a control that had to be deserving of sainthood, Tucker eased away from Skylar's body and lifted her arm from around his neck.
Before he could place her hand safely at her side, Skylar reached toward his face and grazed her fingers across his cheek. She flashed a crooked grin as she gazed up at him with tired eyes.
She definitely wasn't in her right mind. "Feeling better?" he asked, kissing her fingertips as she traced his lips.
"Uh-huh," she murmured, lowering her hand to his chest and snuggling against him. "Thank you, Tucker."
At least she's aware of who she's snuggling against. He had a feeling she wouldn't be so appreciative of his advances come morning, but as Skylar settled against him, a contented smile on her soft lips, Tucker felt a burst of satisfaction in knowing he'd given her some comfort. He watched her eyelids slowly drift down until her long golden lashes rested against the soft skin of her face.
"Do you really think I look like an angel?" she asked a moment later.
"I sure do," he said, pressing his lips to her forehead and dusting his fingers across her silky hair, while forcing his body to relax as he held her.
"Sometimes," she said, her eyes still closed, "your smile, it makes me dizzy."
Tucker chuckled low in his throat, ridiculously delighted by her unexpected confession, and knowing full well she'd be mad as a wet hen in the morning if she recalled telling him such things. "Angel girl, everything about you makes me dizzy." Hell, she'd been knocking him for loops since the moment he laid eyes on her.
She never opened her eyes, but he was rewarded with another smile.
"Skylar, do you want me to hold you while you sleep?" he asked, thinking he should probably have her permission before taking any further liberties.
"I can't," she said, even as she wrapped her arm around his waist.
That hadn't been the answer he wanted. "How 'bout I hold you anyhow?" he whispered against her hair, wondering how the real Skylar had somehow surfaced for a moment in her clouded mind.
Skylar's only answer was her deep, steady breathing.
Clearly not a protest.
Tucker's mouth drew into a hard line as he glanced down at their bodies.
I shouldn't be lying on this bed in these dust-filled clothes. Her clean sheets wouldn't smell fresh for long with his large body sprawled all over them. But Skylar looked so peaceful sleeping in his arms. Anyhow, he was dog tired.
Chapter 9
Surrounded by colorful feminine clothing, strange sweet fragrances and frilly haberdashery, Tucker wondered what in the hell he was doing. He could feel his palms sweating as his fingers worked around the brim of his hat. He'd never bought a gift for a woman in his life, yet he'd entered this shop intending to buy a dress for Skylar.
As the tiny dark-haired woman before him continued to rattle off the different colors, fabrics and styles, Tucker
discovered this wasn't going to be as simple a task as he'd originally thought.
"Is there a certain style your wife prefers?" asked Miss Kelley. "This is a lovely gown," she said, pulling a deep pink dress from one of her racks.
I'll take it! he wanted to shout. Skylar would look stunning wrapped in the satiny, pink fitted bodice and the long flowing skirt accented with swags of white fabric and satin ribbons.
But he couldn't see her driving horses in something with so much fluff. He should have gone to the mercantile. What she needed was a new pair of denims and long underwear. After feeling every square inch of her delicate body pressed against him this morning, he'd realized the woman needed warmer clothing. Not that he'd groped her in her sleep. He'd awakened with Skylar's head resting on his chest and her sweet body stretched out practically on top of him. That thin nightdress didn't do a damn thing to hide the long, shapely woman beneath it. Getting out from under all that softness had been a painfully tricky task.
Despite certain curvy features that would haunt him clear to his grave and the rugged strength he knew she possessed, there wasn't much to her long slender frame. No bulky layer of muscle or thick layer of fat to keep her warm when the sun dropped behind the mountains. Nothing but a hundred and twenty pounds of sheer stubborn beauty.
"Mr. Morgan?"
Tucker shook off his stupor and realized Miss Kelley had tossed the pink gown over a green cushioned chair and was presently holding up a blue dress of similar design.
"Those are both real nice, Miss Kelley," he said, flashing a polite smile, "but don't you have something more basic? You know, something...durable." He snapped his fingers. "Something made of wool, suitable for riding."
"Your wife enjoys riding? The countryside is beautiful this time of year."
"She'll be riding from here to Wyoming on horseback," Tucker explained.
The woman's smile faltered. "Oh."
"Like I said when I came in, we're just passing through."
"Perhaps we should start with your wife's size."
"Her size?" Tucker asked, scratching at his hair.
"Yes. I'll need some estimation of your wife's measurements to choose something suitable."