Teddy’s narrow back was badly marked with long, thin scars that spoke of unquestionable abuse with a weapon like a whip or a quirt. The scars were months old, some maybe years old, and while they would fade with time they would never completely disappear. They were too deep.
Teddy turned and reached for his shirt, obviously anxious to cover up his scarred back. Sullivan shook out the shirt, as he’d originally intended, and helped the kid slip it back on. All the time his blood roared. He’d never been so angry.
“Let’s sit over here a minute,” he said, heading for the bench against the hotel wall. Teddy followed, sitting obediently beside him. He didn’t know what to say, and yet it seemed like he should say something.
Teddy reached up and tugged at Sullivan’s long hair, a question in his eyes.
“You think I should cut my hair, too?” he asked, and Teddy nodded once. “Not today,” he said. Maybe not ever. Teddy needed to fit in, to blend, to be like the other children at school. Sullivan knew he’d never blend in anywhere. He had no desire to try.
More advice. Hellfire, he was not good at this!
“You don’t have to talk if you don’t want to,” he said. “I know Eden would love it if you did, and it would make your life easier. But if you don’t feel like talking”—he shrugged his shoulders—“then don’t. I reckon if you’ve ever got something important to say, you’ll speak up.”
Teddy relaxed and leaned his head against Sullivan’s arm, trusting and warm in spite of what he’d been through.
Sullivan got angry all over again. “A man who would hurt a child the way you were hurt is no kind of man at all,” he said, unmistakable rage in his voice. “My grandfather and my uncle used to backhand me at the drop of a hat, and any excuse for a whipping would do. But even they never... Damn it, Teddy, I wish you would tell me who did that to you. I swear, I’d hunt the man down and kill him with my bare hands.”
Teddy came up on his knees and faced Sullivan. There was pain in his eyes, a fragility that made the kid look as if he would shatter at the slightest touch. His eyes looked suddenly ancient, old and deep and full of secrets. Those eyes were at odds with a face gone pale, a narrow nose, a quivering lip.
The boy leaned close, placing his mouth near Sullivan’s ear. He made a small sound, a catch from deep in his throat, emitted a soundless breath of air, and then he whispered hoarsely, “It was my Uncle John.”
Sullivan slipped an arm around the kid and pulled him close, and Teddy continued in an even lower voice. “I already killed him.”
Chapter 11
Sullivan gathered Teddy onto his lap and made the boy look him in the eye. “What do you mean, you already killed him?”
Teddy remained silent, but he began to shake slightly, as if he’d caught a sudden chill.
“Please tell me.”
It was a struggle, he could see that, but Teddy finally spoke again, his voice as soft as before. “Uncle John called me bad names, and he called my mother bad names. She was dead, and still he called her bad names, all the time.” There was anger in his small voice, anger and confusion. “He hit me with his lash and put me to bed with no supper, just because I yelled at him and told him not to call my mother a whore.” His large dark eyes filled with tears. “When I went to bed I wished for Uncle John to die. I wished as hard as I could. I laid awake most of the night, just wishing for him to die. I wished out loud, whispering into the pillow while my back stung and my stomach growled. The next morning, my uncle’s mule kicked him in the head and he died, just like I wished. So you see,” he said, his voice growing raspy, “I killed him.”
“Teddy,” Sullivan said as he took the kid’s face in his hands, horrified and relieved. “You can’t wish someone dead.”
“But I did.” The tentative voice was almost gone again. “Don’t tell anyone.” The last word was nothing more than a whisper of air.
“I won’t,” Sullivan promised. “But you have to believe me. You didn’t kill your uncle. What happened to him was just an accident.”
Teddy, silent once again, looked as if he wanted to believe that was true. He didn’t, though, not quite.
Hellfire, Eden’s interfering ways were rubbing off on him. Sullivan wanted to fix this kid’s life. He wanted to make everything right for Teddy.
“I’ve never lied to you, have I?”
Teddy shook his head.
“I’m not lying to you now. You are not responsible, in any way, for your uncle’s death.”
Teddy bit his lip.
“I’m not sorry the son of a bitch is dead, and I imagine you’re not sorry, either.”
A soft shake of the head and lowered eyes was his answer.
“But not feeling sorry isn’t the same as being guilty.”
Teddy moved closer. “Did you ever wish your grandfather and uncle dead when they hit you?” he asked, his voice a raspy murmur no louder than an easy gust of autumn wind. “Did you wish really hard?”
“Yes,” Sullivan admitted. “Many times.”
“Did they die?”
Sullivan shook his head. “No.”
Teddy looked relieved as he climbed down off of Sullivan’s lap.
“Let’s go show Eden your haircut,” Sullivan said as he stood and ruffled the newly shortened strands.
Teddy nodded and whispered, “I’m thirsty, and my throat hurts a little. Do you think Aunt Eden has lemonade?”
Sullivan let the kid take his hand as they walked into the lobby. “I think if you ask her for lemonade she’ll be more than happy to make it for you.”
* * *
Rock Creek was turning out to be a lovely, lovely town. The next five days passed in a magical way, perfection from sunup to sunset. Teddy spoke. Not loudly or often, but he did make his presence and his wishes known, on occasion. Something had happened on the afternoon he’d had his hair cut, something between Teddy and Sin. They were closer than ever, two almost silent males who had somehow become the best of friends.
On Sunday she and the children had gone to church, in spite of the fact that it would mean listening to Reverend Clancy. Mary Reese was there, with her baby and her husband, and Eden was able to speak to the woman for a few minutes after a depressing service that somehow ended up being about Jezebel and harlots in general. Their conversation didn’t last nearly long enough, as Mary’s baby and her husband were both hungry. Eden felt confident that one day she and Mary would be friends. The thought warmed her heart and made Rock Creek an even more inviting place.
The hotel looked better already, and Eden had begun to see the true potential of the establishment. There had been no more threatening notes, so she dismissed the first one as a bad joke or a warning meant for someone else—Lydia, perhaps. Having endured more than one meal prepared by the woman, Eden could understand why a threat might be justified.
Millie was adjusting to Rock Creek more easily than anyone. She called Eden Mama and had Teddy doing the same. Millie was very protective of her newly claimed brother, and he followed her everywhere as if it were his duty to watch over her.
Eden and Sin cleaned the tub on occasion, retreating to the small room in the middle of the day while the children were at school or late at night while they were asleep. All they did was kiss, and touch, and laugh, even though Sin made it clear he wanted more. That was one reason the tub was a perfect place for their inappropriate but dazzling rendezvous. Once they settled in, there wasn’t much room to maneuver. It was a relatively safe place to test the dangerous boundaries they occasionally threatened to cross.
Sin hadn’t mentioned Webberville or his blasted hat in days.
The children were asleep, and the other residents of the Rock Creek Hotel were across the street at the saloon, entertaining and being entertained. Eden sat on the first flight of steps, looking down into the lobby. Sin stood at the foot of the stairs, cast in an odd half-light. His long hair shadowed his face so she couldn’t see it as clearly as she would’ve liked. Still, she knew that face so well,
she needed no light at all.
“Cash is trying to put together some big poker game tonight,” Sin said. his voice lowered so as not to disturb the children above. “He said if I don’t show up he’s going to call me out.”
Eden smiled. “Would he do that?”
Sin shook his head. “No.”
“Are you going to play?” she asked. “It’s all right. I don’t mind staying here by myself.”
“No,” he said, taking the first step. “I’m not going to play poker tonight.”
She smiled as he climbed the stairs and sat next to her, wrapping an arm around her waist.
“One dangerous game at a time is enough for me.”
“Is this dangerous?”
“Deadly.” He kissed her then, as she’d known he would.
She knew him so well by now, the marvelous feel and scent of him, the way he tilted his head when he kissed her, the manner in which he encompassed her with his arms, his whole body, within seconds of a simple meeting of their mouths.
She laid back against the stairs, the hard ridge of a step against her back, Sin above her. Her arms encircled his neck, his hair fell across their faces, sheltering them from the light as they kissed.
“You taste so good,” he said as he moved his mouth to her throat and lightly sucked at a particularly sensitive spot. “And I swear, I dream about the way you smell.”
She smiled and relaxed, her legs spreading so that Sin rested between them. It just seemed more comfortable this way. More natural. “I dream about this,” she whispered. “About the way your body feels over mine.”
He rose, just a bit, to look down at her. “And you’re asking me if this is dangerous?”
“You’re right. Someone might catch us here,” she whispered.
“The tub.” Sin took her hands and pulled her to her feet, and together they walked to the tiny room off the lobby. He lit the single candle in the room and closed the door, climbed into the dry tub, and pulled her in after him. She fell on top of him, a soft peal of laughter erupting from her lips.
She couldn’t get enough of kissing Sin. She wanted more. Deeper, longer, more complete. Here, behind the closed door, he touched her, stroking her breasts, caressing her hip. And she touched him, her hand on his chest and his neck, her fingers dancing down to his slim hips.
Feeling bold tonight, she flicked open the first few buttons of his shirt and peeled the fabric apart to kiss the base of his throat. She felt his pulse with her mouth, tasted his skin with her tongue. When he moaned, she felt the vibration with her lips and kissed him harder, sucking against his flesh. It seemed like she couldn’t ever get enough.
When she raised her lips, he flicked open a couple of her own buttons and kissed her just as she had him. She leaned her head back and sighed, unable to decide which was better, kissing or being kissed. He moved his head lower, trailing his lips over the beginning swell of her breasts.
Every time they came to the tub, they went a little further. She knew this, accepted it, even anticipated it. When Sin flicked open a few more buttons and slipped his hand inside her blouse, she didn’t protest, but held her breath as he placed his hand beneath her chemise and over her bare breast. She felt his touch all over, deep inside, between her legs.
She kissed him deeply while he very tenderly caressed her breast. What she wanted more than anything was to take his shirt off, take her blouse off, and press their bare flesh together. The insistent pulsating inside her increased, became unrelenting.
“Sin,” she whispered as he trailed his fingers over her nipple, “if we were married, what would happen next?”
He stopped, became very still beneath her. “What do you mean?”
“I want something, and I don’t know exactly what it is,” she said breathlessly. “You’re going to think I’m hopeless, I know, but until I met you I’d never even kissed a man. Well, not properly, anyway. I know, sort of, what happens. But not really. I don’t really, really know. I have so many questions, but I don’t even know enough to know what to ask. Tell me. Tell me what comes next.”
“You’re trying to kill me, aren’t you?” he whispered hoarsely.
“No.” She squirmed a little, trying to bring herself closer to Sin, if that was possible. She touched his neck with one finger, there where a bead of sweat had popped up. It was no surprise that he was perspiring. It had gotten awfully hot in this small room.
He took a deep breath. “First of all, we’d take off all our clothes.”
“All of them?”
“Every stitch.”
“Oh,” she said, deciding right away that she wanted, very much, to see Sin without a stitch of clothing on. She trailed her finger down his throat. “Then what?”
“We’d lie down in the bed together, and kiss some more. Hard, long, deep kisses that would last as long as we wanted them to. I’d kiss you here”—he tweaked her nipple and she shivered—“and here.” Using his other hand, he ran the tip of a finger on the inside of her elbow. “And here again,” he said, brushing his palm over her breast. “And maybe here.” He trailed his finger from her elbow, raked it slowly down her arm, and then laid his hand over her navel. “I’d kiss you until your body throbbed.”
“It already does,” she whispered.
“Don’t tell me that.” He sounded as if the knowledge pained him, more than a little.
She settled herself more comfortably against Sin and slipped her hand inside his shirt to caress his chest. “Then what?”
He sighed deeply. “You really don’t know?”
“Really.”
“You truly are trying to kill me,” he muttered, shifting his body beneath hers and hiking her skirt to her knees. He pushed up her wide-legged drawers and settled his hand comfortably on her thigh, just above her knee.
“No, I’m just curious. What comes next?”
“I’d lie on top of you.”
“Like on the stairs?” she asked.
“Like on the stairs. You’d spread your legs wide, and I’d touch you, to make sure you were ready.”
“Ready?”
“Wet,” he said, his voice raspy.
“Oh.”
His hand rocked on her thigh. “Then I would... we would... we’d fit together. I’d push myself inside you.”
Her heart skipped a beat. “And that’s it?”
He laughed lightly. “Honey, that’s just the beginning.”
She sighed deeply. “So you would... stay inside me for a while?”
He shivered from head to toe. “Eden, please.”
“Well, I shouldn’t be ignorant forever,” she insisted. “If anyone’s going to tell me about such things, I want it to be you.”
He groaned. “You ask a lot of a man.”
She kissed him briefly and urged him to continue.
“We... move,” he whispered. “All the way in and back out again. Slow at first, and then... faster.”
“For how long?”
“Not very damn long at this rate,” he muttered. “But long enough.”
“Long enough for what?”
“For... we... It’s hard to explain, but it feels better than anything you can imagine.”
“Better than this?” she whispered as she kissed him again.
“Better than this.”
She moaned against his mouth. Oh, she wanted more. She wanted to know what better than this felt like.
Sin’s hand moved slowly up her leg, until he was almost touching her where she throbbed for him. His fingers danced across her inner thigh while his hand moved, ever so gently, over her bare breast.
He buried his face against her neck and mumbled something unintelligible.
“What?”
He lifted his head and looked at her. “Marry me. Tonight. Right now.”
She smiled widely. “You shouldn’t joke about such matters.”
“I’m not joking. I’m deadly serious. I want you so bad I don’t think I’ll make it through the night without you.”
“That’s not a good enough reason to get married,” she whispered. “Is it?”
He gave her question serious thought, and while he thought, his hands raked almost mindlessly over her body. “No, it’s not,” he admitted.
Her heart sank, but then he continued. “But I’ve never felt this way about any woman. I didn’t think I ever would. It’s more than wanting you, more than lust.” He kissed her, sweet and much too short. “Like it or not you’re mine, Eden Rourke, and I want to do this right. For once in my life, I want something good and proper and honorable. I want you to be my wife. Now. Say yes.”
She grinned and held him tight. “Yes.”
Moving slowly, they untangled their limbs and stood to climb out of the tub. “Are you sure?” Sin asked as he took the candle from the shelf and opened the door. “No doubts?”
“No doubts,” she said.
He snuffed out the candle and led her to the stairway. At the foot of the stairs, he stopped. His head was bent, so she could not see his face. When he lifted his head he gave her a look that made her heart stop. Maybe Sin didn’t know it yet, but he loved her. She saw it in his eyes, felt it in the way he touched her.
“Wait right here,” he said.
She sat on the bottom step to wait, certain that her wobbly legs wouldn’t hold her up long enough for Sin to fetch the preacher. A few seconds later she thought to refasten the buttons of her blouse.
* * *
Nate was pretty far gone already, but he remembered most of the words to a wedding ceremony.
He leaned against the front desk and did his best, having terrible trouble with words containing the letter L. Sullivan and lawfully gave him fits. Before the ritual was over, he hoisted himself up to sit on the front desk, his long legs dangling over the sides as he told them they were both crazy, and then he pronounced them man and wife.
As Sullivan kissed his bride, Nate laid down on the front desk for what he said would be a short nap.
Sullivan scooped Eden into his arms and carried her up the stairs, flying up the first flight, kissing her as he carried her down the hallway, and then racing up the stairs to the third floor. By the time he reached the doorway to his room, Eden was laughing. Completely relaxed in his arms, her head fell back and she laughed with a joy such as he had never known or seen before.
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