by Diana Palmer
"Which could have been better put," he said, with a heavy sigh. "I'm tipsy, darling."
"I've noticed."
He nibbled on her fingertips. "It's all sordid and distasteful to you now, because of what happened. But you'll get over it," he said. "All you need is a little time."
"Of course I'll get over it." She drew her fingers away from that disturbing caress. "I think I'll join a convent."
"No, I can't let you do that. I'd look pretty stupid in a habit." Her eyebrows lifted curiously.
"Where you go, I go," he said, with quiet determination. "I let you get away once. Never again."
She bit her lower lip. "I can't be intimate with you," she whispered. "I know what Danny made me into, but..."
He drew in his breath sharply. "You think because of what he forced you to do that I see you only as means to satisfy my lust, is that it?" he asked roughly. "My God! Do you really think I'm that low, Katy?"
"You're just a normal man," she said, hedging. "But I'm not a normal woman anymore. What happened in Chicago... changed me."
She shivered. He turned her face toward his, made her look at him.
"You wanted the baby."
"Yes," she said uneasily.
His fingertips touched her mouth. "I would have wanted it, too."
"I know."
He hesitated. "I'm thirty years old,"he said slowly. "Even older than Cole." He pushed back wisps of hair from her cheek, oddly hesitant. "I would.. .like to have a child." He lifted his eyes to hers and held them. "Wouldn't you?"
Her body stiffened as she read what he was asking. But she couldn't speak.
"I'm fertile," he said quietly. "I must be, to have made you pregnant so easily before." He took a strand of her hair in his big fingers and stared at it. "I think a child would be good for both of us, Katy. It would help to heal the scars."
"I've disgraced the family enough," she began slowly.
His eyes came up. "We'd be married first, naturally," he said quickly. "I wouldn't ask you to give me a child out of wedlock."
Her face went white. Her eyes, in their ghostly oval, shimmered like wet moss. "I can't!"
"Why not?"
Her head rolled sideways on the pillow so that she couldn't see him. "I don't want to have sex."
His eyes closed. "Oh, my God," he groaned.
"I'm sorry." She felt the tears start again. "I'm sorry, sorry! I can't bear it!"
It was because of the trauma of what she'd been through. He knew it. But he didn't know how to cope with it, what to do. The mind was such a complex thing. She might never be able to face intimacy again after the sordid shock of her last experience.
The only thing that gave him hope was that she'd loved him. Love didn't die, even if it had the stuffing pummeled out of it. Love never died. If he were patient, and gentle, and kind, he might kindle it in her slim body again. He might win her.
"It's only been two days," he said softly. "Hardly enough time to recover, to face the future. I'm not asking anything of you now. I'm only making sure you know my intentions. I'll make sure Cole knows them, too "he added grimly. "And he can kick and rave all he likes. This time, he'll not keep me away from you. Not even if he fires me or beats me bloody, I swear it."
She turned back to him slowly, still uncertain and afraid.
"You've loved me so long that it's a way of life for you," he said slowly, and without conceit. "You've buried it, because I said I didn't want it. But I'll find where you've put it, and I'll dig it right back up. Because I do want it, now," he added very softly. "I want it with all my heart."
"I'm dead.. .in here," she whispered, putting her hand over her heart.
"No, you aren't. You're just numb from all the hurt." His big hand covered hers, warm and strong, moving it so that he could feel the warm softness of her, the quick beat of her heart. His thumb slowly traced the soft nipple and made it hard. Then he slid his palm over it and cradled it. His eyes met Katy's shocked ones. "Your mind doesn't want that. But your body does. Eventually you'll heal, little one. I can wait until you do. Even for a lifetime."
He put his hand on her cheek and smiled as he bent and touched his lips to her forehead. "It's all right. Your scarlet past doesn't put me off, you know," he said. "I've never told you about mine."
Her eyes searched his curiously.
"You don't know why Cole and I are friends "he said, answering the unasked question. "Why I owe him so much. I'll tell you one day." He got to his feet and stretched hugely, his bloodshot eyes calmer. "I guess Cole's right. I'd better give him the rest of the vodka."
"Why were you drinking?"
His big shoulders lifted and fell. "It hurt me, knowing about the baby," he said simply, no longer hiding his feelings. "I've caused a lot of damage, haven't I, Katy?"
"I've caused a lot of damage," she replied. "I have to take the responsibility for what I did,Turk. You can't share it." She took a slow breath. "I broke all the rules. I deserve a little misery."
"I don't think so. Neither does Wardell,"he added coldly.
"He loved me," she said sadly. "I felt so guilty." She didn't add that most of her guilt was because the poor man had loved her so desperately—and even at the height of her pleasure she was pretending that he was Turk! She couldn't admit that, though. Not even to Turk.
Turk, on the other hand, could hardly bear the thought of her in another man's arms. He could imagine how Wardell had felt, but did Katy love the mobster? Had she wanted him?
"You were drinking that night, you said.. ."he began, wanting her to tell him that it was the alcohol that had put her in Wardell's arms.
She couldn't look at him. Her face was scarlet. "Yes. And I was so scared of Danny. Wardell was caught in the middle. He wanted nothing to do with Danny, but he was afraid for me."
"I should have married you," he said harshly. "None of this would ever have happened if I'd asked you to stay."
"I didn't have to marry Danny," she said stubbornly. Her eyes glistened. "I deserve what I got," she said huskily, averting her face. "When you break the rules, you pay the price."
"My God," he said heavily. "What a price it is!"
He turned and went to open the door. He didn't look back. Jealousy was eating him alive. "Do you love Wardell?"
She couldn't say that without admitting what she felt for Turk. She kept silent.
He closed the door behind him, and Katy lay staring at it. She gave in to the tears one last time and finally slept.
Lacy cleared away the clean supper things, her mind on all thai had happened. She glanced at Faye, who was pale and quiet. The two of them had done dishes while Cole andTurk checked the livestock.
"Are you all right?" she asked gently.
"Oh, sure!"Faye said, and managed a smile. "I got all the washing done. Good thing it didn't rain!"
"Indeed." Lacy put away her apron. "Have you heard from your father?"
"He came by long enough to see how I was. He doesn't mind about the kid," she said, with a grin. "I guess I'm the scarlet girl, but I don't mind, either."
"Someday people will be less judgmental and more compassionate," Lacy said. "If we ever have a society where there are no hypocrites," she added ruefully. "Meanwhile, you can stay with us."
"Just tonight," Faye said firmly. "Lacy, I want to go to San Antonio," she said quickly. "I can get a job. I can tell people I'm separated or something."
"Are you sure?"
"I'm sure," Faye said. "I can't go on taking care of Papa and pining over Ben. I want to do something with my life."
"Then I'll help you," Lacy said quietly. "I have cousins there. One of them has a shop. Perhaps you could help him."
Faye brightened. "You mean it?"
"I mean it. We'll see later in the week. Right now," she murmured, "we've got enough problems to take care of."
"I know what you mean. Poor Mrs. Whitehall. And poor Katy. I guess she's sad about her husband getting killed."
"I'm sure she is," Lacy lie
d.
But later, when the house was locked and everyone else had gone to sleep, Lacy sat quietly by the fire in her bedroom in her long white gown and worried. The soft knock on the door distracted her. She smiled as Cole came in.
"I'm sorry. Did I keep you awake pacing?" she asked.
He shook his head. He was wearing dark pajamas and a thick robe, his hair still a little damp from his bath. "You were too quiet at supper. What's wrong?"
The ways things had changed between them, she felt confident and possessive, especially when she saw the way he was looking at her, with such quiet tenderness. "I think I need loving," she whispered, lifting her arms to him.
He smiled as he bent and lifted her, his lips whispering over hers, as he carried her to bed.
"I think I can oblige you," he whispered back. He put her under the covers and paused just long enough to remove his robe before he joined her on the cold sheets. "God, it's freezing in here!" he burst out.
She curled close to him. "I only laid the fire a few minutes ago. It's just now catching up. Don't you worry, Mr. Whitehall. I'll keep you warm until it's burning properly."
"So that's what wives are for," he teased, searching for her mouth.
She clung to him, smiling under his cool mouth, enjoying the clean smell of his body. Cole was fastidious, unlike some of the men who never seemed to bathe. He deplored untidy personal habits—even his nails were pristine when he wasn't working out on the ranch.
He eased one long, powerful leg between both of hers and rolled her gently onto her back. "You'll freeze if I take your gown off," he whispered. I don t care.
"Don't you?" he asked, smiling. He eased it up and slowly touched her body with his lips, loving her immediate response, the tiny sounds she made as he explored her.
"Oh, Cole..." she moaned, arching her back to draw his mouth even closer against her breasts as he suckled them.
"You re so soft," he whispered hungrily. "It's like touching my mouth to silk. Do you like this, Lacy?"
"Yes!"
"And this?" He nibbled softly at a hard nipple and felt her go rigid and gasp for breath. But her clinging hands told him what her choked voice couldn't—that it aroused her feverishly.
He found her mouth with his as he moved, one hand opening the buttons on his pajama top and the one on his trousers, pushing away the last barriers between them. But he didn't remove them completely.
"Please," she whispered as he eased between her thighs, and her hands hesitated at his rib cage, wanting so desperately to go around him, under the fabric.
"Lacy..." he began, tormented.
"I love you," she said. Her hands trembled as they eased down very slowly to his lean hips, against the scarred flesh with its ridges and taut smoothness. "Please let me," she breathed. Her teeth nibbled at his lips. He was rigid all over, his body helplessly probing as he felt the touch of a woman's hands for the first time in his life on the hard muscles of his buttocks. He cried out, not because she hurt him, but because the pleasure was like a thousand volts of electricity as he felt those soft fingers caressing him.
"You see? It's sweet, isn't it?" she whispered, lifting her hips obediently to the insistent thrust of his. She enveloped him, warmed him, smiling under his hungry mouth as the springs made harsh noises under the fierce motion of his hips, grinding her into the mattress.
She gasped as the sudden stab of pleasure lifted her rhythmically to him. His hands gripped her slender hips and jerked them upward while he pushed feverishly against her, his voice breaking on her name as he drove helplessly for fulfillment. It was too soon.. .he knew it was too soon, but the feel of her hands.. .was killing him!
Lacy loved him this way, out of control and all hers. She drew her hands upward over the front of his thighs, against the secret core of him, and heard him suddenly cry out with anguished pleasure.
The heat and power of his body almost satisfied her at the last, but even then, she didn't mind that it wasn't quite enough. She held him, collapsed on her, his weight precious and dear, while he struggled to breathe.
Her hands smoothed down his long back, uncaring of the scars and burned places that had healed over and now felt oddly like satin. She touched him with wonder at being allowed such a forbidden intimacy.
"I never thought.. .you could bear it," he said unsteadily. "So many scars, Lacy. So terrible!"
"Silly man." She sighed, kissing his throat, his chest. "When I love you so much?"
"Lacy," he whispered, her name almost a prayer.
"Shh." She nudged him onto his side; her hands slowly removing his jacket, then the pajama trousers. He protested at first, but she whispered softly to him, coaxed, until he gave in to her. When he was totally nude, as she was—her gown long since having been tossed to the floor by his impatient hands—she began to pull the covers back in the soft light from the fire.
"No," he protested huskily. "Lacy! God, no!"
His eyes were frightened. It touched her that a man of his courage, his will, could fear just the eyes of the woman he loved.
"You're beautiful, Cole," she whispered. "Let me look at you."
"Lacy!"
She drew her mouth softly over his while her foot finished what her hands had started and edged the covers off onto the end of the bed. "Let me, darling," she whispered into his lips. "Let me see."
His hands clenched fiercely on her arms. He was terrified of how she was going to react. She was a gentle woman. She had no conception of what a burned body looked like, and he desperately didn't want her to see his.
But she was already looking. She pulled free of his protesting hands and slowly sat up, her eyes shy on the blatant maleness of him. His own attention was caught by the firm, soft thrust of her pale breasts with their fiery red crowns, still hard-tipped from his mouth. He let his attention waver as his eyes ran down to her taut waist and flat stomach and the shadow of her womanhood between creamy, soft thighs. He flushed, because the nudity of her body was still new and fascinating.
While he looked, so did she. There were patches where his normally rough, dark skin was white, and ridges from healed wounds. There were places that were red and raw-looking, and missing spots in among the thick hair that shadowed his thighs and stomach and chest. But he wasn't nightmarish. He was very well built and extremely sexy, and Lacy groaned inwardly only at the pain he must have felt.
"Roll over," she whispered, lifting her eyes to his. "I want to see it all."
"My God, Lacy!"
She bent and put her lips boldly against his waist, the thick hair tickling her nose. She felt him gasp and stiffen, and when she lifted her head, she saw another helpless reaction that pleased her shy femininity.
"Please?" she asked softly.
He couldn't refuse her. He rolled over, his eyes closed in anguish, and let her look.
His back was the worst, she knew. She bent and slowly began to put her lips against the most obvious places.
He caught his breath.
"I'm sorry," she said gently. She rested against him, her soft breasts warm heaven against his cool back. "Did I hurt you?"
"It doesn't hurt," he managed through his teeth. "It's just viciously arousing."
"Is it?" She smiled wickedly and did it again, letting just the tip of her tongue come out as she drew her lips against the center of his back.
He roared with sweet anguish and rolled over, catching her hips with strong hands that were bruising in his need.
"Libertine," she whispered, slowly straddling his hips. She laughed softly at the look on his face. "What's the matter, cowboy?" she teased. "Are you too old-fashioned to do it like this?"
"Yes, I'm too old-fashioned to do it like this," he agreed, and abruptly caught her by the thighs and turned her under him in one smooth motion. He lowered himself down, impaling her almost at once, and then poised above her to watch her expression. "Fairy," he breathed, his eyes moving from her white body to her face in its frame of disheveled dark hair. "You're so beautiful
you take my breath away. How can you bear to look at me?"
"I love you," she said, and it was in her voice, in her eyes, her face. She moved slowly, holding his gaze as she lifted her hips to gently advance his possession and gasped at the sudden surge of increased pressure that heralded his response.
"Surprised?" he asked softly. "You don't know much about men even now." He eased down, shifting slowly from side to side. She made a sound he'd never drawn from her before, and he nodded even through his own raging excitement. "Now it begins," he whispered, bending to stay her mouth with his. His teeth caught her lower lip as he continued the movement of his hips and felt her begin to convulse. "Now it begins, Lacy,"he whispered. "Now. Now. Oh... God, now!" He felt her completion, felt it in every cell of his body, heard the pitiful cries that tore out of her throat and came into his mouth with her jerking breaths. But he didn't stop, even when she relaxed suddenly and gasped for breath. Turk had told him once that a woman's body was capable of endless pleasure. It must be so, because it only took a minute before his slow movements kindled her again, before her legs entwined with his and her hips began to lift to meet him.
In the long, exquisite minutes that followed, it delighted him that he could give her such pleasure. He kept on until he was all but exhausted, finally giving in to his body's need in one rough thrust that, incredibly, sent Lacy convulsing again, as well. The harsh slam of one of the wide wooden slats falling out from under the box springs made them both jump, and then laugh.
Later, when he could breathe, he lay with her cheek pillowed on his chest. He wondered at the newness of lying naked in her arms, his body open and vulnerable in the keen orange light echoing from the fireplace.
"Even Turk hasn't seen you like this, has he?" she asked drowsily, smiling as her hand lay flat and possessively just below his waist.
He stirred, aroused even after the long interlude at just the touch of her fingers. He chuckled. "No, he hasn't. Stop. You're much too fragile for another loving like the one we just shared."
"I know," she moaned. Her lips pressed against him through the thick hair. "Did you ever used to think it would be like this if we made love?" she asked.