West of Heaven

by Victoria Bylin

  It was the most personal thing he’d said in two days and she wondered if perhaps her rope had a few strands left. To encourage him, she managed a rueful smile. “Storms scare me to death. I was ten years old and visiting a friend when a tornado struck. The cellar was so small I thought I’d be sucked through the door.”

  “It sounds terrifying,” he said quietly.

  “It was. My friend had her mother to hold, but I was all alone.”

  When a sudden flash lit up their shelter, Ethan slid across the rock floor and grabbed her hand. Before she could brace for the coming thunder, he was next to her, pressing her face into the hard muscle of his chest even before the blast roared through the canyon. Being held felt wonderful, but she knew it didn’t mean anything. He was comforting the little girl in the storm cellar. When the thunder stopped, she looked up. “Thank you, but I’m—”

  A crackling sizzle made her hair stand on end.

  Kaboom! Thunder nearly split the rock in two. She screamed and pulled herself into a ball. With the reverberations pulsing through the cave, Ethan wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close. He felt like a wall of muscle and bone, strong and tender at the same time. When the thunder passed, he slid behind her so that her back was resting against his chest and his arms were around her middle and upper chest.

  “I’ll keep you safe,” he said. “Now look up and watch the pond.”

  A bolt of lightning strobed through the canyon, illuminating the darkness with jagged white fingers that vanished as quickly as they appeared. When the thunder cracked, she listened to the changes in pitch and tempo. Ethan was right about storms. The thunder matched the longing in her body and the lightning gave her hope. She put her hands on top of his and pressed his forearms tight against her. “I have to ask you something.”

  “Go ahead,” he replied.

  “Do you think God wants you to be alone for the rest of your life?”

  She felt the sharp intake of his breath against her neck, then he pressed his temple against hers. “No,” he finally answered. “The choice is mine, but I’ll never love again. It hurts too much. Do you understand?”

  “I do,” she said. He had locked the door to his heart because he was afraid, just as that little girl had been afraid in the storm cellar. But Jayne remembered the aftermath. The storm had passed and dawn had come with a brilliant splendor. She wanted to give Ethan that gift—the joy of a new day—so she turned in his arms and clasped her hands around his neck. Knowing she was taking a chance, that he was wounded and might turn away, she kissed his lips, warm and openmouthed.

  Though stiff-necked and reluctant, he kissed her back, taking small nips as he murmured, “Oh, God.”

  Jayne didn’t know if it was a plea for the mercy to surrender to love or for strength to resist the desire, but it didn’t matter. She’d been tapping on the door to his heart for two days. Tonight she intended to pound on it with both fists and even kick it down, if that’s what it took to remind him that love was…good.

  A storm as savage as the thundering sky erupted in Ethan’s soul. The five-foot rule had been burned to a crisp with that first burst of lightning. He’d seen honest terror in Jayne’s eyes, and protecting her had been as natural as breathing. One instinctive touch had led to another and now he was hungry for more.

  He had to fight the urge to simply not think. All it would take was silence and he’d be inside her tonight. He wanted that to happen, but only if she understood what he was offering—comfort and friendship, nothing more. He couldn’t love her. Not ever.

  He whispered into her ear. “I have to be sure you understand.”

  “I do,” she replied.

  Ethan wasn’t sure he believed her, but the urgency in her tone spoke for itself. She had heard his talk on love and lust. She was his wife in name. Why not in body? It was his heart he couldn’t share. Honor demanded that they talk a bit more, but before he could find the right words, the clouds parted and a full moon illuminated her face.

  She had opened her eyes wide and was biting her bottom lip, tense with a case of nerves that went beyond anticipation. “I have to tell you something,” she said.

  Relief filled Ethan’s chest. If she had doubts, he would take the honorable road and back away. “You can tell me anything,” he said.

  “With Hank, it was just one time, and it wasn’t very nice.” Her voice dropped to a hush. “I’m afraid you’ll be disappointed.”

  Holy hell. Ethan was mad enough to do serious battle for this woman’s honor and show her the full range of her charms, but he understood the power of sex. A smart man would run from that innocence. He’d tell her to save herself for a man who could love her right.

  But Ethan wasn’t smart. He was a complete idiot. He wanted Jayne to feel wild, beautiful and as aroused as all hell. As for his heart, he’d draw a line and stay behind it. He’d give her pleasure, but for himself, he’d take only what was required for nature’s release.

  Peering into her eyes, he made his voice firm. “If Hank Dawson made you feel bad on your wedding night, he was a disgrace to every man in America. It’s my job to satisfy you, not the other way around.”

  When her eyes flared wide, he nuzzled her ear. “All you have to do is breathe for me. Can you do that?”

  She whispered yes and Ethan took on the serious business of kissing her breathless. It had been a long time since he’d given pleasure to a woman, but he hadn’t forgotten how. Whispers, touches, and demands—he’d use each one as needed, or asked for.

  Focusing on Jayne’s rapid breath, he trailed his lips from her mouth to the base of her throat where he kissed the soft hollow above hard bone. When she bent her neck to give him better access, he smiled. “You like that, don’t you?”

  “Yes, I do,” she whispered.

  Enjoying the taste of her, he worked his way down her chest. One by one, he undid the buttons on her shirt, then using both hands, he spread the cotton to reveal a lacy white camisole. Thankful for the full moon, he studied her breasts. Soon he’d see them bare. They’d be round and firm, he guessed, tipped with pebbled flesh and far more sensitive than she’d expect.

  “You’re beautiful,” he said.

  Holding her gaze, he slid her shirt off her shoulders and wadded it into a pillow of sorts. Mindful of the hard rock, he gently put her on her back, cushioned her head with the cotton and stretched next to her.

  Stroking her bare shoulders, he dipped a finger beneath the camisole and traced the sweetheart line of her breasts. She tried to kiss him, but he wouldn’t let her. Instead he made a game of it, avoiding her lips while caressing her in places she didn’t expect. Her elbow, her wrist, her palm—whenever she came close to his mouth, he dipped away, until he distracted her completely by untying the ribbons on the camisole and baring her breasts to moonlight and the cool air.

  As she became aware of his gaze, her nipples hardened even more. He ached to suckle her, but first he wanted to touch the tips. At last kissing her mouth, he caressed her nipples with his fingers, focusing on her breath, her thighs seeking his, the small whimpers in her throat.

  When she clutched his head and thrust her breast to his face, he kissed the white flesh in a leisurely circle. “How’s that feel?” he asked huskily.

  She could only moan.

  More pleased than he had a right to be, he finally took the tip between his lips and drew hard. Over and over, he teased and pulled, until she was tense enough to shatter with a touch. Showing no mercy, he broke the suction and switched sides. In the tender cries spilling from her throat, he heard a plea for release, but he wasn’t quite ready to grant her wish. “So you like this, too,” he said.

  Trembling with need, she shocked him with a low chuckle. “All I can say is ‘holy hell.’”

  Feeling more eager than he wanted to be, Ethan slid her trousers down her thighs, taking her drawers and socks with them so that she was naked from head to toe. Keeping his eyes on her face, he slid out of his clothes, laid next to her
and stroked her belly, her thighs and everything in between, until she was oblivious to everything but her own body.

  He’d succeeded in tonight’s quest. He’d made her feel glorious and wild, and his own heart was still untouched. Sure, it was beating like a hammer, but he still had his wits about him. Positioning himself above her, he was about to finish her pleasure and take his, when she raised her hand and curled her fingers around the part of him that no one but Laura had ever touched.

  He wanted to tell her to stop, that it hurt too much to be held in that way, but he couldn’t say the words. Instead he looked down at her fingers, unschooled yet generous as she caressed him, and he let her do it.

  The moment stretched with each stroke until the night blurred in a mist of need and desire, moonlight and a woman’s power to turn a man into a hungry child. Lost to himself and unable to endure the wanting, he filled her with a searching fierceness. He wanted to go home. He wanted warmth for his flesh and light for his soul. He wanted to feel…good.

  He couldn’t get close enough to her, couldn’t feel enough of her skin. Naked, blind and needy, he rocked in the cradle of her hips and fed on her mouth until he saw a blinding light, stars bursting behind his eyes and the joyous glimmer of creation. As the first tremors rocked him, a sheen of sweat broke out on his forehead. He was filled to the brim with heat and light and…love.

  No, dammit! He couldn’t love her. He wouldn’t.

  A horrible moisture filled his eyes. He had to focus on the pain of losing his family, on Laura looking down from heaven. Except Jayne was feeding him and he wanted to stay inside of her forever. She was clutching at his back, drawing him deeper as she clenched at his need, whimpering and teary-eyed as she shattered in his arms.

  As he spilled his seed, Ethan felt sick with regret. He didn’t know which woman he’d betrayed—the wife he had loved first or the one he wanted to love now but couldn’t.

  As the sensations faded to an awareness of the rock floor and the empty night, he buried his face in the crook of her neck and prayed that she’d fall asleep. He needed to be alone to figure out how to make things right, but she was rubbing his back with both hands, firm and gentle at the same time, stirring up more hunger and making him weak.

  When she nuzzled his neck, he felt how much she cared and silently rebuked himself for using her for sex. He was about to pull out of her and tell her he was sorry, when she put her hands on his temples and raised his face so that their eyes were just inches apart, while their bodies were still joined.

  “I love you,” she said.

  Anguish roared through him. He couldn’t stand the hope in her voice, the generosity and the warmth. Old Faithful shriveled like a worm. Pushing up on his arms, Ethan rocked back to his knees and reached for his pants. “Don’t say that.”

  “But I do.” She grabbed his hand and squeezed. “It was so good, Ethan. So right. Can’t you feel it?”

  He pushed to his feet and hiked his trousers up to his waist. “Of course I can feel it. It’s called lust. I used you. I—”

  “You did no such thing,” she said. “I gave myself to you, and you can’t stop me from speaking the truth.”

  “Jayne—don’t.”

  “Why not? Because you’re afraid?” Sitting upright, she picked up her shirt and put it on with that matter-of-fact air that made him crazy. “I know you’ve suffered terribly, but we all live with dread and uncertainty. Those feelings are part of life, but so is happiness—if we’re brave enough to fight for it.”

  Looking down at her face, Ethan took in the stubborn tilt of her chin and the tangle of her blond hair shimmering in the moonlight and defying the dark. She’d finished buttoning her shirt and was hoisting her hips to skim into her pants. If he walked away, she’d follow him. She’d find a way to get close, and they’d be rolling in the grass and he’d die all over again.

  He had to stop her from saying another word, so he snatched up his shirt and stepped to the mouth of the cave with the intention of leaving her alone. “Nature’s calling,” he said. “I need to take a walk.”

  “I’ll go with you.”

  Whirling to face her, he shouted, “Dammit! Don’t you see? I’ll never love you! I can’t. I don’t want to.”

  She pushed to her feet and crossed her arms over her chest. “Then how do you explain what just happened?”

  He told himself to walk away before he said something hateful, but he was spoiling for a fight. If he’d been at the ranch he could have punched another hole in the barn, but right now that wasn’t possible. Instead he hocked up a mouthful of spit and sent it flying out of the cave.

  “You are so goddamn naive,” he said with disgust. “We didn’t ‘make love.’ We had sex like a couple of horny squirrels, and that’s the whole story.”

  She turned as brittle as dry pine. “I see.”

  “I told you how I felt before any of this happened,” he said, sounding superior. “I thought you understood.”

  He clutched at his shirt and decided to hike down to the stream. If he stayed within twenty feet of her, he’d be weeping at her feet and begging for her to forgive him for his meanness. He had to go now, before he hurt her again. It was best for both of them.

  As soon as he rammed his arms into his sleeves, he jerked on his boots and looked up to say he’d be down by the stream. She spun out of his view, but not before he saw smudges of moisture on her cheeks.

  All hell broke loose in Ethan’s soul. He wanted to run from her tears, but he was deeply ashamed of himself for causing them. She had just given him her most precious gift—her love—and he was treating her like a glob of manure stuck to his boot.

  Tired of his own stinking self, he forced himself to survey the damage he’d done. What he saw made him flinch. Her face was as blank as slate, empty of all joy. He’d sworn to protect her, but instead he had stomped all over her heart.

  Slouching against the rock wall, he pinched the bridge of his nose and bent his neck in remorse. “Jayne, I’m sorry,” he said. “I should be shot for acting this way.”

  She shook her head. “I pushed you, but I have to know. Was it me? Did I disappoint you? I thought you were—”

  “Oh, God.” Every instinct told him to show her again just how pleased he’d been, but he didn’t have the guts to do it. Instead he reached for her hand. When she took it, he covered her fingers with his left palm and squeezed.

  “Don’t you dare doubt yourself,” he said. “Tonight was beautiful. I won’t ever forget it.”

  She looked down at their entwined hands. “Then why—” Her voice caught.

  Ethan followed her gaze and cringed at the sight of Laura’s ring on his finger. His stomach turned bitter. He’d just made love to one woman while honoring the other with that circle of gold. He felt disloyal to both women, and to himself. He had taken pride in being a faithful husband.

  Jayne slid her hand from his grasp. “It’s because of Laura, isn’t it?”

  “I guess so,” he replied, but in his heart he knew he’d lied. The problem wasn’t that he couldn’t love Jayne. The danger was in loving her too much. Silently praying that it wasn’t already too late to prevent her from more pain, Ethan touched her arm. “None of this is your fault. Get some rest. We’ll leave early and make Raton late in the day.”

  Before she could say a word, Ethan turned his back and walked alone to the edge of the swollen stream. With the rush of water filling his ears, he searched the heavens for understanding, but instead of bringing him peace, the stars glared down with pity.

  Laura wasn’t too happy with him right now. With an uncanny certainty, he understood she was waiting for him in Raton. He had to visit her grave, and he wasn’t going to like what she had to say.

  Jayne watched Ethan vanish into the shadows, then she dropped to her knees and sobbed. She loved him enough to fight for him, but how could she compete with Laura’s memory? It was hopeless. Her mother would have understood. She would have told her to stay strong, made her a
pot of tea and focused on the future. Louisa McKinney had walked a similar road.

  Don’t ever settle for second best.

  Jayne curled on her side and hugged her knees. Ethan had made his feelings clear. What they’d shared tonight had been lust, second best to his love for Laura, and he profoundly regretted their coupling.

  Chewing on her bottom lip, Jayne knew that she had to stay in Raton even if LeFarge was still on the loose. The outlaw was a lesser danger than Ethan. She supposed the marriage had been consummated, but an annulment was still fitting. They weren’t really married, and she was sure Ethan wouldn’t object.

  Focusing on the baby, she closed her eyes and tried to sleep. Leaving Ethan was going to hurt like a toothache, and she’d need all the strength she could muster to yank him out of her life.

  Chapter Thirteen

  T hey arrived in Raton late the next afternoon and checked into a boardinghouse. Jayne spent the evening pressing her dresses and quizzing the cook about local seamstresses who might be hiring. Ethan disappeared after supper and spent the evening alone in his room.

  During the ride, they had decided to visit the police chief together. If LeFarge was still a threat, she would keep Ethan’s name. If not, they would obtain an annulment and she’d be Jayne McKinney again. When she told Ethan she intended to stay in Raton regardless of the outlaw, he had argued with her, but she wouldn’t change her mind. Laura’s ring was snug on his finger, and that was the only sign Jayne needed.

  After spending a fitful night alone, she had put up her hair and donned her best dress. With Ethan stoic at her side, they walked to the police station where she told the entire story to Chief Benjamin Roberts and presented Hank’s letter.

  The chief listened carefully, but his expression turned grim. “I believe your story, Mrs. Trent, but it’s for the district marshal to decide if you’re telling the truth. As it stands, you’re an accessory to a crime. In fact, I should take you into custody right now.”