Rosanne Bittner

by Paradise Valley

  “I won’t. I’ve never felt like this,” she said in a near whisper.

  “I don’t want to wake up ugly memories for you.”

  Maggie could barely comprehend this wonderful yearning for a man. She wanted every part of him, to feel his strong hands move over her body… under the shirt he’d given her to wear… over her breasts. “Touch me, Sage.” She took his hand and put it against her breast. She wanted to feel his hard, heated body move on top of her like he was doing now. She relished his deep kisses… arched up to him when he pushed the shirt open and leaned down to taste her breasts.

  “Sage…” she whispered. This was nothing like it had been with James, who’d always been quick and demanding… no gentleness to his touch, no concern for what she might want or enjoy.

  She breathed deeply as Sage moved down to kiss her belly, groaned when he pulled off her drawers and did something magical with his fingers that sent her into a relaxed ecstasy far beyond anything the laudanum could do. Rain continued to pound the roof, and thunder rolled in the distant mountains. By the dim firelight she could see intense desire in Sage’s dark eyes when he came back to meet her mouth in an invading kiss. The way he touched her made her forget any remaining inhibitions… forget everything that had come before.

  Now she was the one taking pleasure. She moved her hands over Sage’s hard muscles, pulled his shirt open so she could feel his chest. A wonderful sensation of wild need engulfed her then, a pulsating, desperate want for this man. She lay in a near daze of desire as she waited for Sage to remove his clothes, felt no pain in her thigh as he moved between her legs.

  “Maggie, are you sure about this?” he asked.

  Never before had she actually wanted to touch a man’s nakedness, but she wanted to touch Sage Lightfoot. She moved her hands over his chest, down to his hips. She gently grasped his hardened shaft. “I’m sure,” she whispered.

  She guided him into her, and he responded with a slow, deep invasion that sent her reeling. It was like he actually wanted her to enjoy it. He filled her to near painful glory, making her cry out with sheer ecstasy. She raised her hips rhythmically to meet his every thrust, drinking in his glorious masculinity when he grasped her hips and got to his knees, lifting her to him.

  Maggie thought how he could have forced this on her whenever he wanted during all the time they’d been alone together. He could have used the excuse that she’d been used by other men already, that it shouldn’t matter if a man took her again for his own pleasure, but in Sage’s dark eyes she saw only respect. He understood.

  She’d never known a man like this… never actually wanted to lie completely naked and let a man look at her as he mated with her. But she wanted Sage to look at her, to enjoy her just like she was enjoying his own nakedness… enjoying the feel of him inside her.

  She felt his life spill into her then. How she wished now that it was Sage Lightfoot’s life in her belly.

  She pushed back the thought. She couldn’t worry right now about how she was going to tell him about the baby. She only wanted to enjoy this moment of surrender, this moment of sheer pleasure.

  Sage relaxed and pulled away then. He kissed her again before rising and walking over to stoke the fire and add wood to it. Neither spoke. Still naked, Sage grabbed his own blankets and pillow and brought them over beside Maggie. He arranged them and laid down next to her, pulling the blankets over both of them and letting Maggie nestle against his chest.

  “You smell good,” she told him. “You have a natural good, manly scent. James never smelled good like you do. You smell like leather and the outdoors and strength.”

  Sage grinned. “Strength has a smell?”

  “Yes, it does. It’s the kind of scent that makes a woman feel safe.”

  Sage caressed her hair. “If you say so. Are you okay?”

  She kissed his chest. “I’m wonderful. I’ve never felt like that. Thank you, Sage.”

  He sighed. “You’re thanking me? I think it should be the other way around. I’ve wanted you since before we left.”

  But do you love me? He hadn’t said that yet, but she’d promised he shouldn’t feel obligated. She could only hope he’d learn to love her as much as she knew for certain she loved him, but Sage was Sage… not a man to let on… and the fact remained there was still another woman in his heart, whether he wanted to admit it or not. Right now, she hated that woman.

  “I want to do it again, Sage.”

  “You need your rest—and I’m afraid I’ll hurt your leg.”

  “I told you I’m fine.”

  “Neither of us is thinking straight right now.”

  “I am perfectly aware of the needy, confused condition we’re in.”

  Sage moved on top of her again. “You’re some woman, Maggie Tucker.”

  “And you’re some man.”

  Sage met her mouth, his kisses full and tender and delicious. She opened herself to him… and took him twice more before they finally slept.

  Twenty-two

  Maggie awoke to see Sage stoking the fire. He’d thrown on more logs and poked at them with a bit too much punch.

  He was angry. She could tell.

  He was fully dressed. She’d not heard him rise and go out for more wood. She felt groggy, yet warm and wonderful and satisfied. She pulled the blankets closer, then realized she had to use the privy. She managed to get up, keeping the blankets around her. Surprisingly, her leg didn’t hurt so much when she started walking, but she stumbled a little from sleepiness and catching a blanket in her toes.

  A frowning Sage came over and picked her up. “You shouldn’t be getting up on your own yet.”

  “I’m much better—just a little dizzy.”

  “Too much laudanum last night. Too much of a lot of things.”

  Maggie put her head on his shoulder as he carried her out. “Why are you angry with me?”

  “I’m not. I’m angry with myself. I did a stupid thing last night, thanks to too much whiskey. Whiskey and reason don’t mix. I’m sorry as hell, Maggie.”

  “Why? I asked you to make love to me. You tried to discourage me.”

  “That doesn’t matter. Laudanum acts on you the same as whiskey when it comes to thinking straight.”

  “It wasn’t the laudanum, and I’m a big girl, Sage. I knew what I wanted, and I’m fine with it.”

  Sage set her on her feet in front of the privy. “You okay on your own now?”

  Maggie was a bit worried. Did he see last night as nothing more than taking his pleasure? Were there no feelings involved? She’d told him it didn’t matter, but deep inside she dearly hoped it did.

  She kept her blankets wrapped tightly. “I’m fine. You can go back inside and make us something to eat. I’m famished.”

  From all the lovemaking, she thought. It was wonderful, Sage. Please tell me you thought so too. She went inside the privy and closed the door. When she came out, he was gone—back in the cabin. She saw their horses and mules grazing nearby. It was a pleasant morning—cold but still. She’d almost forgotten how quiet things were in high country when the wind didn’t blow.

  She felt alive and beautiful. Everything around her was beautiful too. The sun shone brightly against gorgeous mountains of green and purple. Last night seemed like a dream… but it was ever so real. She was in love with Sage Lightfoot, and that was that. She’d learned that giving herself to a man could be beautiful and enjoyable, when she truly wanted and needed him.

  Her biggest problem now wasn’t finding the outlaws, or even Sage’s mood this morning. It was the fact that Sage still didn’t know about the baby. She feared telling him more than ever. She’d likely lose him for good. He’d think everything she’d done last night was to trap him into marriage to save her honor. She decided that, for now, she would enjoy the chance to lie in Sage Lightfoot’s arms, whether he loved her or not. It felt wonderful to know he was attracted to her, that he’d wanted her. He had a way of making love that made her feel treasured. He’d take
n away the ugliness of her attack with a touch amazingly gentle for his size and strength. He was beautiful to look at, beautiful to touch, and beautiful in the way he could please a woman.

  She remembered his words from the night before… I’ve wanted you since before we left. He could growl and scowl and do all the pretending that he wanted. It didn’t matter. Sage Lightfoot loved her. Maybe he didn’t realize it himself yet, but he did.

  She walked gingerly back to the cabin, determined to ignore the pain in her leg and not let it slow them down. She went inside to see a pan of bacon cooking over the fire. Sage sat watching it, his back to her. “Coffee’s hot,” he told her. “You need help getting dressed?”

  “Do you want me to get dressed?”

  He remained quiet.

  “What I meant was—are we leaving today?” she added.

  Sage shook his head. “You need to stay off that leg as much as possible for a couple more days. I let you walk back in here on your own just to see how you’d do. Do you want some stockings?”

  “No, I’ll wrap myself in these blankets for now. I’ll clean up after I eat.” Maggie limped back to her makeshift bed.

  “I should look at that wound again—change the dressing,” Sage suggested. He walked to their supplies to take out more gauze.

  Maggie noticed he’d gathered his blankets and pillow and put them on the other side of the room, as far from her bedroll as possible. So… this was his message. Last night was last night, and it wasn’t going to happen again.

  We’ll see about that.

  Maggie sat down and pulled her blankets away enough to expose her thigh. There was blood on the gauze, but it was dried blood—nothing fresh. “I think I’m going to be fine,” she told Sage as he came over with whiskey for the wound and clean gauze to wrap it. He remained quiet as he gently untied the old gauze and carefully unwrapped the wound.

  Maggie winced, more at the sight of the wound than how it felt. “It looks awful! Will it leave an ugly scar?” She noticed Sage refused to meet her gaze.

  “Maybe not an ugly one, but it will leave a scar, all right.” He tossed the gauze aside and dribbled whiskey on the wound. Maggie grimaced at the sting.

  “Sorry. Can’t be helped.”

  Maggie studied his strong hands as he rewrapped the wound. “Does it look okay? I mean, no infection?”

  “Not so far. Believe me, you wouldn’t have walked on your own if it was infected. I’m amazed at how good it looks and the fact that you can walk on that leg. Either that wound wasn’t as bad as I thought, or you’re a good healer.” He finally met her gaze. “Maggie…”

  “It’s okay.” Maggie touched his lips, sensing he felt guilty about last night. “I told you what I wanted, and you shouldn’t feel obligated. I’m not the kind of woman to make demands, Sage. I’m scared—and all alone in this big country. You make me feel safe.” She looked away. “And it’s okay if you just needed a woman. I wanted you no matter what your own reason was. It was another kind of healing.”

  Sage rose and took the pan of bacon off the fire while they talked. “It’s not okay,” he told her. He sat beside Maggie, facing her. He reached out to push some hair off her face. “Look at me, Maggie.”

  She met his eyes—eyes that could show wildness and anger—but now, they were gentle, searching.

  “You deserve to be appreciated for the strong, beautiful woman you are—the respect of being loved the proper way.”

  Maggie’s heart had never felt so full of love and joy. “Are you saying… you love me? I meant it when I said that I’m not asking anything like that from you.”

  “You should ask it, because you deserve that much.”

  She thought about the baby. “Maybe I don’t,” she answered. I’m carrying a bastard child. Why couldn’t she bring herself to tell him? The man appreciated honesty.

  “Maggie… I’m telling you not to expect too much from me right off. The way I feel about you… it’s a whole different thing from Joanna. You’re a far better woman than she’ll ever be.”

  Maggie smiled through tears. “It makes me feel good to hear you say that. No matter what happens, I can honestly say that I’ve never been this happy. If it lasts only a little while, I’ll still be glad.” She leaned close and wrapped her arms around his neck, kissing him deeply before he could move away, loving the taste of his mouth, the delicious way he had of kissing her back.

  “Damn you.” Sage whispered the words through deeper, searching kisses. “I didn’t intend to do this again.”

  “I did.”

  Sage moved his lips over her neck, down to her breasts, lingering there to taste and enjoy. Maggie relished allowing him his pleasure. She was still naked under the blankets. Nothing more was said. For the moment, neither wanted to worry about the right or wrong of it. Sage removed his pants and long johns, and Maggie drank in the sight of his firm thighs, his heated erection—the almost intimidating size of him. Leaving his shirt on, he knelt over her.

  Maggie moved her fingers into his thick, dark hair and opened herself to him. He surged inside her, groaning with the want of her, reaching down to grasp her bottom while kissing her wildly. He moved his lips to kiss her hair, and Maggie breathed in his scent, snuggled her lips into his neck, and relished the glory of his manhood until his life pulsed into her again.

  He relaxed, and they lay there together quietly for a while. Maggie moved her hands over his muscled arms and chest, adoring every part of him. Finally, Sage kissed her once more before pulling away with a deep sigh.

  “Now, we definitely need to wash up somehow,” he told Maggie, “and I need a shave.” He rose and stretched. “There’s an old washtub hanging at the back of the cabin. If it’s not full of holes, I’ll heat some water and fill it for you. I have a lot of repacking to do, and the horses to tend.” He pulled on his long johns. “We’ll eat breakfast, and then I’ll leave you alone to clean up. I’ll wash outside as soon as we eat.” He looked down at her. “Maggie, we can’t do this anymore—till this is over. The last thing we need is for you to end up carrying my baby in your belly when we don’t even know—” He turned away.

  “Don’t know what?” Maggie asked. “Whether we love each other? I already know I love you, Sage, with everything that’s in me, but I know there’s something in your heart for Joanna. You’re bothered by that letter.”

  He walked to the fireplace and set the pan of bacon on the fire. “I don’t want to talk about Joanna.” He glanced back at her. “And so you know, I think I love you, Maggie Tucker. I just don’t want it to get in the way of what we have to do. I’ve got to think straight and be alert, and so do you.”

  “What are you trying to tell me?”

  He turned the bacon, his back to her again. “Well, for one thing, I don’t want to worry about getting you pregnant.”

  Her heart pounded with dread. “It’s a little late for that, don’t you think?”

  He shrugged. “Maybe not. We can at least try to avoid it from here on.” He pulled the cabin’s lone chair over by the fire and sat to watch the bacon fry. “That means two things.” He glanced at her. “Either we stop doing this, or we get married. Somebody like you would make a good rancher’s wife, but God knows, getting married now would be ridiculous.”

  “Because you still love Joanna?”

  That look of dark anger came into his eyes again, the look she saw the day he got the letter. “No. Dealing with Joanna is a necessary evil that will need taking care of.” He turned away. It’s okay, Sage. Once you know the truth, you won’t want to marry me anyway.

  “Sage, for now, I don’t mind pretending to be married till this is over,” Maggie said aloud. “With Joanna wanting to see you again, you’ll need to get your feelings worked out before you make a decision as big as getting married again.”

  I’d marry you right here and now if we had a preacher… if you knew the truth, accepted my baby, and were over Joanna.

  Sage rubbed the back of his neck. “Maybe in the
next town we can find a doctor—get some protection for—”

  “No!” A doctor might figure out I’m carrying. He might tell you. “I’m afraid of strange doctors,” she told him. “I’d be too embarrassed.”

  Sage grinned almost sheepishly then. “Well, then the only alternative is to visit one of the local whorehouses. Prostitutes know all kinds of ways to keep from getting pregnant.”

  “I expect you’d know more about that than I do.” Maggie bristled. “Is that the only plan you can think of?”

  Sage smiled. “I can’t think of any other.”

  Maggie sat up and wrapped herself in blankets again, not fond of the idea of a wild, handsome man like Sage Lightfoot visiting a whorehouse. Sage rose, still smiling. He helped her stand then pulled her into his arms. “I have no plans to see any prostitutes for reasons other than getting something for protection,” he soothed. “Until then, I’ll try my best to keep my hands off you, but it won’t be easy.” He pulled her chin up so she had to face him. “Right now, there’s no other woman I want, not even Joanna. Understand?”

  She saw only honesty in those dark eyes. What was she getting herself into by not telling him the truth? She threw her arms around his neck. “I love you so.”

  I just hope I don’t have to tell you good-bye when this is over. His strong arms came around her, and for the moment, she enjoyed the luxurious safety and comfort of his embrace.

  Twenty-three

  They left, heading north. Maggie felt melancholy leaving the crumbling cabin where she’d found real love for the first time in her life. But there were still too many unanswered questions, too many obstacles in the way of their love—outlaws to be hunted, miles to be covered, another woman Sage needed to deal with… and a baby Sage didn’t know about.

  “Are you ever going to tell me more about yourself?” Maggie asked. “You keep saying you’ll tell me the whole story, and here we are, riding through grassland with nothing to do but talk.”