With Open Arms

by Cindy Nord

  A new letter to the governor would retract his offer.

  Jackson shoved aside his momentary guilt. The politician could find someone else. Jackson had finally found his purpose. But the guilt resurfaced, this time twisting his gut.

  Sonofabitch.

  He prided himself on being a man of his word, but now, he’d need to renege on the obligation. He’d spent a half-dozen years fighting other people’s battles; he didn’t want to fight anymore. More than anything else, he was damned glad he wouldn’t be fighting Callie any longer. She needed him. Trusted him. He would not abandon her now. The moment he slid inside her warm and willing body, his promise to her became the only promise that mattered.

  Jackson straightened in the saddle, his decision made. He’d post the necessary correspondence and withdraw his commission as soon as he returned to the ranch.

  And right after that he’d take his Callie-girl to his room and make love to her again—in a proper bed this time.

  Callie awoke to sunlight shining through the cabin window. Exhilaration danced through her veins. She scanned the room, but Jackson was nowhere in sight. He must’ve slipped away to look for a place to cross the Angel. He’d mentioned his intention last night while she lay wrapped in his embrace.

  Last night.

  Rolling to her back, she slipped her arms above her head and languidly stretched only to suck in her breath at the sweet, tingling awareness that claimed her. Her pulse began a slow and steady beat as Callie revisited the joy he’d brought her hours earlier.

  A contented smile lifted her lips. A giggle soon followed, spilling into the room to melt with the morning sunbeams. She loved Jackson with an intensity that matched the throbbing in her veins. Never had she suspected a man’s body could be so…enchanting, his arms so comforting. Indeed, Callie was pleasantly surprised to discover her broad-shouldered stallion’s lovemaking was nothing like Salvaje mounting a mare.

  She gingerly pushed onto her hip, then brought her legs around, dropping her feet to the floor. Callie glanced down at her naked form, expecting to see some kind of change, an outward signal, something to verify last night actually happened. But she looked the same. Only her muscles, her mind and that pleasant smolder still lingering between her legs confirmed her transformation. Sitting erect, she lowered her chin and rolled her head from side to side, concentrating on each pinch and release of the muscles along her neck and shoulders. Her ribs ached from the lifeline, but her thighs ached for a far different reason. More than a new and burning passion for Jackson Neale oozed through Callie. Hopes and dreams now searched for a place to lay down roots.

  From the beginning, the man had possessed an uncanny way of crawling under her skin. Along with her clothes, last night Jackson also stripped away her protective barrier. But now she trusted him to protect her.

  “Hmm,” she mumbled as she stared at the warm beams of light laid across her bare feet. “The wall’s down, and I didn’t dissolve. In fact…” she paused and wiggled her feet in the dust motes dancing in the bright light, “…I feel pretty damn good.”

  In an attempt to stifle a shiver, her arms tightened around her nakedness. Before last night she’d felt sharp and brittle, the Ugly Duckling of childhood tales. Then Jackson breathed magic into her empty soul and she’d somehow been transformed—perhaps not into a beautiful swan but closer to pretty than she’d ever felt before.

  The depth of her love for him aroused, yet disturbed her; the foundations of her trust lay exposed and fragile. Before Jackson, she’d thought she’d die a spinster, dried-up and unwanted, but he’d changed everything. Was this her chance for heaven on earth, a marriage filled with happiness and love like Mother and Father? Or was this thing between them destined to be a single, scandalous night?

  In the aftermath of her near-death experience, turning over the reins had been easy. But now, in the light of day, she wondered if she might have given in too easily. Forevermore was a long, long time and happy endings only happened to swans and princesses in fairy tales. And nobody who loved her—well, certainly not her parents or her big brother—had ever managed to stay. To her way of thinking, there was no such thing as happily ever after.

  Callie inhaled and rammed to her feet. Stop thinking about the bad things. She snagged her clothes from the table and dressed with a quiet calmness until the last button on her torn shirt slipped into place. Then, without warning, tears began, coursing down her cheeks in rivulets of repressed despair. Now that she’d finally admitted her love to him, Jackson would leave too.

  She headed for the cabin door.

  It’s only a matter of time.

  Ten minutes later, she had saddled Diego and was backing the gelding from the lean-to when Jackson rode up. Callie’s heart lodged somewhere between its usual location and her throat. She shoved her boot into a stirrup and pulled into the saddle, then settled her hat atop her head, shoving the tangled braid over her shoulder. She avoided looking at Jackson and instead focused her gaze on a broken-armed saguaro growing at the bottom of a nearby sandy swell.

  Jackson reined Salvaje to a stop beside her.

  What exactly did one say to a man after making love? It didn’t matter since the words wouldn’t find passage past the lump in her throat anyway. Callie’s cheeks blazed hotter than the rising sun.

  “Good morning,” he said, his saddle creaking beneath his weight.

  Callie’s gaze dropped to a cactus wren hopping around the remains of a nest near the base of the cactus. “Mornin’,” she mumbled.

  “I trust you slept well?”

  His voice warmed her even more than the sunshine. She nodded, feeling as giddy as some damned school girl. “Yes. Very well. Thank you.”

  Thank you? Like he’s just given me the time of day? Her head ached. Hell even her eyelids ached. Everything within her ached at his nearness. All she really wanted to do was climb over onto his saddle and curl up within the protective shelter of his arms again.

  From the corner of her eye, Callie saw his thumb angle backward over his broad shoulder. “I’ve found us a safe crossing ’bout a mile upriver. Should work if we take it nice and slow.”

  Nice ’n’ slow…like your body moved inside mine last night.

  Another shiver raced through her, and her gaze ambled to his. “That’s good. I’m glad you’ve found one.” Her lips tightened as she swallowed. She owed this man so much more than distancing conversation. “Thank you again for coming to find me, and for showing me those…other things.” She thought she was prepared for this moment. In fact, she’d rehearsed a speech a dozen times between crying jags and getting dressed, until nervous frustration sent her out to saddle Diego.

  Yet still, she bit back a nervous giggle.

  Nodding, Jackson re-settled his hat and issued a matching grin, his lips curving just a bit slower, his look more intense. He seemed to be enjoying her discomfort. Callie dipped her chin as another unaccustomed rush of giddiness tripped through her. She toyed with the reins in her hands, wrapping the leather around each finger. “Last night was—”

  “Wonderful.”

  “Yes…wonder—”

  Before she could finish the word, Jackson leaned sideways, banded her waist and nearly pulled her from the saddle as he brought her closer. “You’re too far away,” he whispered before his lips covered hers. Slowly, he increased the pressure, his lips parting hers until their mouths opened. Jackson increased the pressure a bit more and continued to move his lips upon hers. If not for his vise-like grip, Callie would’ve melted to the ground. She reveled in the warmth of his mouth, but too soon the kiss ended. A groan slipped from her when he moved away.

  As easily as he’d pulled her to him, he straightened her in the saddle. “I had to have one more of those before we headed back.” He lifted one devilish brow. “Hope you don’t mind?”

  Desire for him swept Callie’s veins…their intimacy a
banquet spread before her after years of isolated starvation.

  “I didn’t mind,” she whispered. Impulsively, she leaned toward him and slid her hand across the faded denim covering his hard-muscled thigh. “In fact, I didn’t mind one single bit, Mr. Neale.”

  Jackson’s deep chuckle brought the goose bumps back to Callie. She could listen to his laughter forever. “You get any closer with your hand, hellion, and our return might be delayed.”

  She laughed and straightened in the saddle, gathering Diego’s reins. I could learn to be a seductress. Her gaze locked with his. For him. “Well then,” she said. “I suppose we’d better head back then before Gus sends out the troops.”

  Jackson nudged his horse alongside hers. “And the sooner we get home, the sooner I can take you back to bed.”

  “In that case…let’s ride, partner.” Again, her throaty laugh spilled between them. “And this time, I’ll take the lead.”

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Yesterday’s storm had added a stifling humidity to an already hot day and Callie couldn’t wait to escape the heat. But more than that, she couldn’t wait to bed Jackson again.

  “Looks like we’ve got company,” he said, spurring Salvaje into a canter.

  Callie rounded the outcropping of rocks just outside the entry posts and saw horses and people filling the clearing to the side of the hacienda. She nudged Diego, and caught up. An irritated sigh slid out as she realized their plans for lovemaking would be delayed. “Guess we won’t be spending the afternoon like we’d hoped,” she said, staring at an elegant, black-lacquered carriage near the front steps. An impressive pair of horses pawed the sandy soil. “Never seen that rig before, have you? And there’s some type of seal on the side of the door.”

  Her attention swept past a half-dozen soldiers, finally settling on a well-dressed man standing beside Gus near the edge of the group. Callie recognized their visitor at the same moment a ragged curse tumbled from Jackson.

  Her gaze cut back to him. “I wonder why the governor’s here.”

  Jackson didn’t respond.

  She stared at him as unease settled in the pit of her stomach. He knows something. Without waiting, she spurred Diego toward the dignitary, hollering back to Jackson over her shoulder. “I’ll see what he wants.”

  Jackson shouted for her to hold up, but Callie kept riding. A half minute later, she reached Gus and the visiting politician and dismounted. After pulling off her gloves in stride, she shoved them into her back pocket.

  “Glad to see you’re not hurt,” Gus said as she approached. Worry creased his weathered face. “I was just about to send the vaqueros out to find you.”

  “We’re fine. Got caught in the floodwaters and Jackson pulled me out. Spent the night in the cabin near the Angel.” She shifted her gaze to their visitor. “Afternoon, Governor. What can I do for you?”

  “Nice to see you again, Miss Cutteridge.” Goodwin reached into the breast pocket of his coat and pulled out a letter. He snapped it open. “I’ve come to escort Major Neale back to Prescott with me. With the Indian raids and all, it’s not safe for anyone to ride unprotected these days.”

  Apprehension crept up Callie’s spine. She narrowed her eyes, her heartbeat pounding in her chest. “Why does Neale need to go to Prescott with you?”

  He smiled and glanced over her shoulder. The chink of Jackson’s spurs hitting the ground with his dismount forced Callie to thin her lips. She willed herself to stand straighter as the approaching crunch of his boot heels echoed across her growing dread.

  “Well, I’ve got his letter of acceptance right here.” The man jiggled the correspondence in front of her, the motion generating a maddening crackle that smacked against her heart-wrenching disbelief.

  Acceptance? Of what?

  Callie swallowed and stared at a smudge of dirt on the lapel of the man’s black serge jacket. “I was returning from El Paso anyway,” he continued. “Thought I’d offer him a proper escort. I’m delighted he’s moving to Prescott to take permanent command of my new territorial militia.”

  Callie’s heart vaulted into her throat. Oh God. No. No. No. Her gaze cut from the governor over to Gus, but her foreman simply shrugged, eyebrows raising.

  “There’s obviously some mistake here,” she whispered, but Jackson’s non-reaction upon seeing the politician minutes ago had already proven otherwise. She snatched the letter from the man’s well-manicured hand, agony coursing clear into her fingertips as she gripped the paper. She’d just finished reading the last line when Jackson’s rich voice rumbled against her heartbreak.

  “Hello, Governor,” he said. Moisture flooded Callie’s eyes. The bold script on the page blurred behind a growing veil of tears. Her eyes slipped shut. Inside, her heart crumbled into a million agonizing pieces.

  Jackson slipped his arm around her waist and pulled her tight against him. She gasped, but the sound skidded past her lips as a brittle groan. “What brings you out this way?”

  Callie’s eyelids flew open. Gus, the governor, the milling soldiers faded into her peripheral vision. She pushed from Jackson’s hold, staggering sideways. Turning to face him, she slammed the paper against his chest.

  “Perhaps this might enlighten you,” she rasped. Past the twisting misery, Callie dredged up the necessary strength to continue breathing. “H-How could you do this to me?”

  Jackson secured the letter, scanned it, then dropped the correspondence to the ground. His eyes narrowed just before a sigh trailed out. “I can explain this, Cal.”

  “I believe it’s all clearly explained right there. You’ve used me…nothing else needs clarification.” Her temples pounded, matching her drumming pulse. Rising on tiptoes, she branded him with a glare. “Just exactly when had you planned on telling me…before or after our mounting this afternoon?”

  His dark gaze bore down into hers.

  And a sob pressed against her trembling lips. Only hours before he’d soothed her with his velvet-trimmed lies, his breath purling into her oh-so-trusting ears. Don’t you dare look at me with those soulful eyes, you…you insufferable liar. The joy-filled hope she’d carried home with her severed away with the swiftness of a guillotine. Before she could stop them, blistering words propelled from the bowels of her shattered dreams. “How dare you bed me like a whore for your pleasures when you knew full well you were leaving?” The splendor of their lovemaking had now become an oozing wound.

  Jackson reached out and banded her waist, jerking her up against him once more. Dark brows furrowed, and his penetrating gaze burned into hers.

  His voice a husky command, he growled, “Don’t do this.”

  “Don’t do this?” Holding fast to the lifeline of her wrath, Callie flung the words back at him. The dreadful ache inside her swelled, spilling down both unsteady legs. “How ironic, since it appears to be you who has already done the undoing?” Since she could not make the feelings this man had birthed inside her last night go away, she’d make damn sure he did.

  Barely seeing past the tears now filling her eyes, she jabbed a finger against his hard-muscled chest. “You’ve got ten minutes to get off this ranch. If you’re not gone by then, I’ll have the vaqueros tie your sorry ass to that carriage.”

  Jackson’s lips tightened into a hard line, his gaze unwavering and intense.

  She pushed from his arms and stumbled backward. Again he reached for her, but this time Callie sidestepped and spun away. His searing deceit melted her fairy tales into wretched piles of dust. If he touched her again, she’d splinter into a million teardrops. The last thing she expected the first thing this morning was for Jackson to ride out on her so soon, but she’d rather die than beg him to stay.

  She swung and pointed a finger at her foreman. “You make sure he’s on that rig, Gus. Do you hear me?” The man nodded and she whirled to face the governor as she pointed down the entrance lane. “And you…yo
u’ve got who you came for, now get the hell off my ranch.”

  The hurt so heavy now she could hardly breathe, Callie turned and forced herself to put one foot in front of the other. Each step labored against a desperate need for Jackson. A dozen footfalls later, she stumbled up the risers and across the porch. Her hand closed around the front door’s iron latch as the image of his body atop hers resurfaced in her mind.

  God…I slept with him. How could I?

  Tears finally spilled, cascading down her cheeks and seeping into the corners of her mouth. The briny tang only accentuated her foolishness.

  I didn’t want him here, anyway.

  But the ludicrous lie impaled her heart. Callie pushed into the house, no longer able to hold back her sobs. With as much force as she could muster, she slammed the door behind her. The entry room windows rattled in their frames.

  She shoved past Pilar and stormed down the long corridor toward her bedroom.

  Jackson pulled his gaze from the front door and settled it upon Gus. “She didn’t know about the letter.”

  “That’d be my guess,” Gus said, bending to retrieve the correspondence from the ground. He handed it to him.

  Jackson jammed the paper into his back pocket, then jerked a thumb toward the politician. “I’d written him several weeks ago, Gus, and if you’ll remember, things between me and Callie were a whole lot different back then.”

  The wrangler scuffed a booted foot over the ground, then glanced at the house. “Looks like nothing’s changed from where I’m standing, son.”

  Jackson stared at Gus. How can I share the amazing details of last night with this man? He couldn’t, so he settled for saying, “You’re so wrong. Everything’s changed between us now.” Jackson shifted his attention to the governor. “I was planning on writing you this evening, John. I’ve changed my mind about taking the command. I’m sorry about your wasted trip, but my life is here with Callie and—”

  “Now wait just a damn minute!” Goodwin interrupted. “You can’t change your mind. I need you and the people of this territory need you. Telegrams have already gone to the forts and settlements, and the militia volunteers are en route. Mustering begins at the end of the week. Hell, I’ve even wired Washington to let them know I’ve finally got my commander. We’re growing, and we need to show the bureaucrats back east we can protect our citizens.”