Wild Roses

by Hannah Howell

  When Harrigan slid beneath the blanket at her side, she tensed, then cursed. She refused to allow those men to make her afraid of any man’s touch. As Harrigan cautiously slipped his arm around her waist and tucked her up against him, she forced herself to relax and welcome his closeness. A lot of people might consider Harrigan nearly as great a cad as her attackers, because he had seduced a woman he had been hired to find, but Ella knew he would never treat a woman as those two men had. She had always had the option to tell Harrigan no.

  “Where did you put their bodies?” she asked softly.

  “Tossed them into a gully and shoved some leaves over them,” he replied in a flat voice. “Don’t worry. They’re a safe distance away. They won’t draw any unwanted visitors our way.”

  She shivered a little, knowing he referred to the beasts who were drawn to the scent of blood and death, and snuggled up against him. “And are they really dead?”

  “Those two will never maul another woman.”

  “Do you know, I find that a great comfort,” she murmured, and closed her eyes, praying that she had the strength of will to stop the memory of those men from stealing her sleep as they had so roughly and abruptly stolen her peace of mind.

  Chapter Sixteen

  They would be in Philadelphia tomorrow. Ella still could not believe how Harrigan had announced that chilling fact, coolly, as if he was mentioning that it might rain in the morning. She shifted slightly in the saddle, and surreptitiously rubbed her backside. There was at least one part of her that would be heartily glad to stop riding, she thought wryly. All she had to do to stop that pain was to get off her horse. She wished she could cure the hurt Harrigan was about to deliver as easily.

  When he had saved her from her attackers last night, Ella had thought she had sensed some deep emotion in him. Now she was not so sure. If he did care about her, or her well-being, as strongly as she had suspected then, he would now be offering her some chance of escape. Instead, he held her reins tightly, leading her down out of the mountains and straight into Harold’s lethal hands. That look that had softened his eyes last night could easily have been a look of triumph, she decided. Harrigan had made no secret of how pleased he was that he had fully repaid her for saving his life.

  “Ella, you haven’t said a word in hours,” Harrigan said as he led them through the thickly growing trees toward the stage route that would lead them straight into Philadelphia.

  “I don’t think you want to hear the words that are churning about in my head right now,” she replied.

  Harrigan sighed, looking around for a secure place to camp for the night. “Do you want to plead your case again?” he asked with obvious resignation.

  “Actually, that snake coiled and waiting in Philadelphia was not really in my thoughts. Mostly, I was defaming your character.” She smiled faintly when he chuckled.

  “Something you do with great skill and wit.”

  “Thank you kindly. I do my best.”

  “Does that look like a good place to camp for the night?” he asked, pointing to a small grassy knoll set among a thin stand of trees.

  “Actually, there is one other I would prefer.”

  “Where?”

  “Wyoming.”

  “Not very amusing,” he muttered as he reined in and started to dismount.

  She eased her travel-sore body out of the saddle and stretched, rubbing her lower back as she looked around. “I didn’t realize it was my job to entertain you.”

  Harrigan mused that it might have been better if she had remained silent and distant. “I suppose it would be useless to ask you for your word that you will not try some foolish escape.”

  “Escape from Harold is not foolishness, but survival.”

  She ignored his muttered curse as she considered her options. Refusing to swear that she would remain with him, would not try to flee, seemed silly when she was so close to her enemy, so near to losing her battle against Harold. Ella knew she should be trying her best to run as fast and as far as she could in the other direction. She also knew she would not do it. The attack last night had left her with a deep fear she could not shake that easily.

  “I believe I will stay put,” she finally said.

  “Is that a promise?” he asked, eyeing her warily.

  “Yes. You have left me alone in these woods only once. Once was enough. I don’t want to go to Harold, but I also don’t want to meet with any more men like those two last night. Harold is at least a danger I know.”

  As Harrigan prepared the fire, Ella tended to the horses. She then took a quick survey of their campsite. The sound of trickling water drew her to some thickly growing scrub brush at the far edge of the clearing. When she saw the small creek, she knew she would be unable to resist its temptation.

  “Ella,” Harrigan called, a hint of trepidation in his voice.

  Ella realized she had started to leave his sight, edging closer to the water. “There is a little creek right here and I believe I will have a bath.”

  “I can understand your wanting to have a good scrub down, but I hope you can understand my reluctance to let you out of my sight.”

  “I told you I wouldn’t run away.”

  “That’s not what concerns me. These hills now seem a lot more dangerous than they did when we rode into them.”

  Ella grimaced, suffering a swift return of her fear, then tightly grasped at a scrap of common sense. “I will be just on the other side of this brush. It puts me only steps away, yet allows a little privacy.”

  “Alright then. Just don’t take too long or I might feel compelled to infringe upon that privacy.”

  “Understood.”

  Ella grabbed some clean clothes and their rapidly shrinking bar of soap, and went to the creek. It was shallow and cold, but she wasted no time in sinking her body into its chilly depths. The wash she had had last night had helped remove the stench of her attacker, but she knew that a good scrub in these clean waters would finish the job.

  After rinsing her hair and squeezing out the excess water, Ella stepped out of the creek. She rubbed herself dry with her spare petticoat, dressed in her pantaloons and camisole, and sat down to gently rub her hair dry. She had to decide what to do about Harrigan. It was their last night together and, even if she was able to escape Harold’s deadly plans for her, it could well be the last night they would ever share. Harrigan had never talked of his feelings or of a future together, and the only promise he had made was to investigate her claims about Harold.

  It was far past time to stop trying to guess what he thought or how he felt and face some hard, cold facts. The only thing she knew for sure about Harrigan was that he desired her. Despite all the time they had spent together and all they had shared, she had not been able to convince him of the danger she was in. He now believed that she felt all of her tales were the truth and had enough of his own doubts to want to investigate Harold, but none of that did her much good. He was still going to hand her over to Harold tomorrow.

  Ella sighed. All the facts added up to one truth. She should tell Harrigan and herself a resounding no. No, she would no longer be his lover. No, she would no longer play the game of let’s pretend Harold isn’t lurking on the horizon. And, no, she would no longer love him or try to win his love. If she did not stand back and start treating him like the enemy, she was a fool.

  She stood up, picked up her clothes, and started back to camp. A fool was exactly what she intended to be, she decided, as she looked at Harrigan, who had been standing guard on the other side of the scrub brush that sheltered the creek. Pride told her to push him aside, but there was a little idiot voice in her head too and it was louder than the voice of pride. It told her to try one more time, take one more chance.

  As if something will miraculously change this time, she mused. As if, while he holds me in his arms for what might be the last time, some lightning bolt will strike him between the eyes and fill him with some wondrous revelation. Suddenly he will know that he loves me. S
uddenly he will see Harold for the murderous, greedy scum that he is. Right. And, suddenly, I will become a tall, buxom blond who turns all men’s heads.

  “It doesn’t look as if your bath relaxed you very much,” Harrigan said as they sat by the fire and he served her some beans and biscuits.

  Ella smiled crookedly. She was tempted to tell him that she was carrying on a glorious argument in her head. Unfortunately, she would have to tell him what it was and that would reveal far too much about the sorry state of her heart. It would also make him question her sanity.

  “I was just a little disappointed that some meat had not miraculously appeared on the spit to add itself to the beans and biscuits,” she replied.

  Harrigan smiled, then began to eat. He did not believe her, but was too cowardly to press her for the truth. Whatever had put the dark frown on her face was probably not something he wanted to discuss in any depth. Tomorrow he would complete the job Harold had hired him to do and he hated it. He was not too fond of himself either. He was sure she was thinking of the same things.

  This would be their last night together, and Harold loomed between them like some unbreachable wall. They did not have to talk about him; he was just there. Harrigan knew it was selfish, but he wished that wall was not there, because he ached to make love to her. After tomorrow, he might never have another chance.

  The thought of never holding Ella again, of never tasting her passion again, was deeply painful, but Harrigan shied away from examining the why of that. He shrugged it aside as a regret for losing something he so enjoyed. It was a price he had to pay to help his family, and he would recover. If there was one woman who could make him feel so good, so fulfilled and sated, there had to be another. When he had regained all that had been stolen from him, he would look for her. Harrigan ruthlessly silenced the little voice that tried to tell him he was seriously deluding himself.

  His problem at the moment was how or even if he should approach Ella. There was a good chance she would react to any advance with pure fury, and he did not want their time together to end that way. Neither did he want to lead her to believe there was still a chance he would change his mind about what he had to do. He ached for her, however, and he was not sure he had the strength to be wise or considerate.

  Confusion still reigned in his mind as they cleaned their supper dishes and banked the fire. He watched her lightly braid her hair before she slipped beneath the blanket, then he stripped to his drawers and crawled in beside her. When he realized how closely she was watching him, he inwardly grimaced. He was torn between saying a calm goodnight then pretending he was going to sleep, and kissing her, reaching out unthinkingly for one last taste of the passion they shared.

  “Ella,” he said, then choked, not sure what he should say next.

  “I know,” she murmured as she reached out to stroke his cheek.

  Harrigan had the sinking feeling that she did know, knew far more than he wanted her to. “I should leave you alone.”

  “Yes, you should.”

  “You can’t change my mind.” He began to unbraid her hair, combing his fingers through its silken depths.

  “I’ve known that for a long time.”

  “You mean you haven’t been trying to change my mind?”

  “Not with this, and you are very lucky I am in the mood to ignore the implied insult.”

  He laughed shakily, closing his eyes as she smoothed her small, soft hands over his chest. “I feel like a cad.”

  “You should.” She began to follow the route of her hands with her mouth, slowly, tenderly kissing his skin. “However, I am neither stupid nor naive. I also have a voice. I could say no. In fact, I know I should say a very loud no tonight.”

  “But you’re not going to.”

  “No. I fear greed has silenced the voice of my pride.” She undid his drawers and slid her hand inside, watching the lines of his face tighten as she stroked him. “Tomorrow you will do something I may well find impossible to forgive. I may even grow to hate you, if I live long enough. But tonight I believe I can push all that from my mind. No, I am certain I can. I will deal with my offended pride another day.”

  Harrigan did not have a chance to reply. Ella removed his drawers, kissing her way down one leg then back up the other. When she replaced the enticing strokes of her hand with her mouth, he could only groan his approval of her daring. He slowly sat up, watching her as she pleasured him. He had always preferred to control the lovemaking, but with Ella, he felt no need, was in fact delighted when she was bold enough to take the lead.

  Finally he knew he could not continue, that he would reach his release before she did if he did not stop her. He pushed her back until she kneeled in front of him. The soft look of desire on her face, the visual proof that she was stirred simply by making love to him, was almost his undoing. It took all of his willpower not to lie her down and immediately possess her.

  He slowly undid her camisole and kissed the tip of each breast as he slid it off her. Then he untied her pantaloons, easing her to her feet as he pulled them off her. She started to sit down again, but he grasped her by her slim hips and pulled her closer, determined to repay the delight she had just gifted him with. The way she welcomed his intimate kiss, opening to him with no hesitation, giving him free will of her body, was intoxicating.

  The moment he sensed that her release was near at hand, he pulled her back down, easing their bodies together. Ella’s gasp of pleasure as they were joined was like a caress. Harrigan leaned her back over his arm and began to give her taut breasts the attention he had thus far denied them. When he felt her body begin to squirm against him, he held her tightly against him and kissed her. Their cries of release blended in their mouths when, as one, they reached the crest their bodies craved.

  Ella sighed and curled up by Harrigan’s side. They had washed up and returned to bed, yet she was only just starting to return to her senses. When he trailed his fingers down her spine and began to caress her backside, she murmured her appreciation and snuggled closer to him.

  “Ah, my wild mountain rose, I don’t think we’ll get much sleep tonight,” Harrigan said, a little astounded at how quickly his desires were returning.

  “And were you thinking of sleeping, my dark Irishman?” she asked.

  “No, not once you let me know there was something else we could do.”

  He smiled when she chuckled. Ella had a sense of freedom he had rarely found in a woman. She was open in her dealings and in her passion. Somewhere in her upbringing there had been a lack of the lessons taught other well-bred young women. He had no doubts about her morals or her ability to be faithful if she promised to be, but she put few restraints on her passion, and held none of the strange notions planted in the heads of so many young women. It would be a very fortunate man who finally put his brand on her.

  The knowledge that it would not be him both hurt and angered Harrigan. He almost laughed at his own contrariness. He was not going to claim her, but he was already jealous of the man who would. The only way to stop himself from thinking about tomorrow, or any day beyond that, was to lose himself in the fire he and Ella could ignite, he decided. He would just keep making love to her until the sun came up or they both collapsed from exhaustion.

  “Your strength has returned already, has it?” she asked, laughing as he suddenly pulled her on top of him.

  “I believe mine will hold longer than yours will,” he drawled as he trailed his tongue along the pulse point in her throat.

  “Ah, a challenge. I do so love a challenge.”

  “Going to try and prove me wrong?”

  “Most definitely,” she whispered as she kissed him.

  The first hint of dawn’s brilliant color was tinting the sky as Ella opened her eyes. Her first clear thought was that neither of them had won the challenge. She was pretty sure they had both fallen asleep at the same time.

  Careful not to disturb him, she slipped from their bed and, throwing on her camisole, hurried to the
creek. After quickly seeing to her personal needs, she scurried back to bed, smiling faintly to find Harrigan still sound asleep. There was a certain amount of pride to be felt in knowing she had exhausted such a strong man.

  She sat beside him, watching him sleep. For one brief moment she suffered a strong urge to weep. She loved him deeply and, she feared, would do so forever. It seemed a cruel twist of fate that it was Harold, a man who wanted her dead, who had sent her the love of her life. It did not seem strange that it would also be Harold who would tear that man from her arms.

  What made her even sadder was that she could not tell Harrigan how she felt. Love was something every woman longed for, to feel and to share, yet she had to swallow the words, hide them deep inside of her. Ella could not foresee any time when she would be able to reveal all that was in her heart. That, Ella mused, was the cruelest cut of all.

  Afraid she was about to start dripping tears all over Harrigan, she went to stir up the fire and make the coffee. For a little while longer she would pretend that everything was fine. She knew that the minute they got on their horses and started down the road to the city that pretty little dream would be shattered. It would hurt no one save herself if she clung to it for another hour or two.

  When she returned to their blanket bed, she gently nudged him, laughing when he muttered and rubbed his hands over his face. “I made you some coffee,” she said, holding the cup out when he finally sat up and looked at her.

  “Thanks,” he said, watching her cautiously as he took the cup.

  Harrigan sipped at the coffee, mildly annoyed that it was a lot better than his own, and eyed her over the cup. She looked especially tempting as she sat there by his side. It was obvious that she wore nothing but her thin shift and that she had just tossed it on. The front was unlaced, but not fully opened, the edges caught against her nipples, which were hardened by the cool morning air. He glanced down and thought idly that, if she took a deep breath, the bottom edge of the lacy shift would rise enough to reveal all of her secrets.