She felt his chest expand, then he tried to pull away, but she simply tightened her arms around him, determined not to let him go. Waiting for another contraction in he throat to ease, she cupped the back of his head, pressing he face against his. "Tell me," she whispered.
He remained rigid and silent in her arms, then he took a deep jagged breath and started talking. Kate wanted to kill them all. The humiliation they had inflicted on that boy, the sick degradation they had forced upon him, held down by five drunken men and explicitly fondled by two crude, equally drunk women, filled her with cold, killing rage. God, it was so twisted and sick. It made her want to tear them apart, piece by piece.
Tightening her arms around him, Kate forced herself to keep the fury out of her voice. She spoke, her tone quiet. "Your father – where was he while all this was going on?"
Easing his hold on her, Tanner fingered the collar of her nightshirt. "I don't know. It was Cyrus who broke it up. When he came in a few minutes later and saw what they were doing, he went a little crazy. He threw one of the women against the wall, then went after the others with the bullwhip Bruce used to keep on his desk. Bruce came in then, but he was pretty much out of it…" His voice trailed off, and Kate knew he was recalling everything that had happened that night. Finally he continued. "Cyrus took me to Burt's. Then he went back the next day and beat the hell out of my father. Put him in the hospital for a few days."
Kate didn't want to ask the next question, but she had to – it was part of the unfinished business. She looked at his face. "Did any of this ever get out?"
Avoiding her gaze, he toyed with her hair, straightening a curl between his fingers, his expression drawn. He shook his head. "No. Cyrus warned them that if one word was said, he'd do some talking of his own. I never went back to school – I finished high school by correspondence."
Even in the faint light, Kate could see the effect that telling had had on him. And his eyes – oh, God, his eyes. Refusing to give in to the feelings churning inside her, she freed her arms, then took his face between her hands, wanting him to look at her. "And Burt?" she queried softly.
For the first time since she had come into his room, he met her gaze. And she could have wept when she caught a tiny glimmer of humor in his eyes. "Burt was Burt." Shifting his gaze, he caught one of her hands, then carefully laced his fingers through hers. His voice was husky and a little unsteady when he went on. "He thought the world of my mother – that's one reason why Cyrus took me there. Cyrus told him a bit about what had happened, and Burt flew into a rage – said it would be a cold day in hell before Bruce McCall ever got his hands on me again." His voice wavered, and he stopped and rubbed at his eyes; then Kate felt him try to swallow. It took a while before he was able to continue. "She's buried in a little country cemetery, so he took me to her grave – my mother's grave – the next day. He told her that she could rest easy now, that he'd take good care of me."
Kate had been fighting the good fight; she'd thought she had everything under control, but that roughly spoken admission, that statement of commitment, completely did her in. Unable to see, unable to speak, she clenched her arms around his shoulders, and Tanner held her hard, his face turned against her neck.
It was a long, long time before Kate could ease her hold. She felt as if she'd been mauled, wrung out and stomped on, but there was one last thing she had to say that might offer him some solace, that might change things just a little. Rubbing the back of his neck, she turned her face against his. "I know it's not going to change anything," she whispered unevenly. "But if things hadn't happened the way they did, you might never have ended up on the Circle S with Burt Shaw."
She felt his chest expand sharply; then he hugged her so hard that she couldn't breathe, and she hugged him back, knowing that if Tanner McCall had ever needed anyone, he needed her right then. She held him until she felt the awful tension ease; then she shifted her head, smoothing her hand up his neck. He needed her. He needed sweetness and solace. And soft, soft loving. "Let's go to bed," she whispered. He went still; then he inhaled sharply and gathered her up in a hard, enveloping embrace.
* * *
Kate awoke at dawn, tucked into the curve of Tanner's body, his arm secure around her waist, his breath warm against her neck, and she let her eyes drift shut, loving the feel of waking up in his arms. She couldn't have had more than three hours' sleep, but she was feeling surprisingly rested. They had ended up talking into the night – not about his childhood or what had happened that awful night, or even about his father. Instead, Tanner had told her about Burt, about Cyrus going on the wagon and coming to work at the Circle S.
But now it was morning, and the sun was coming up. Softly rubbing the back of his hand, Kate shifted and looked at the clock. Deciding it was just too risky to stay there any longer, she lifted his arm and eased away from him. As soon as she moved, Tanner rolled over onto his stomach. Smiling down at him, she pulled the sheet up to cover him, and her stomach dropped. It was the first time she'd had a chance to see his back in any kind of light, and it was the first time she'd seen the scar. It was a long, puckered wound just on his shoulder. Her expression sober and her stomach rebelling, she dragged her gaze away and covered him, then leaned down and lightly kissed his temple. Lord, she hoped she could make things better for him. Picking up her clothes, she went to the windows and pulled the blinds all the way down, leaving the room in total darkness. Maybe, just maybe, he would sleep in.
By the time the boys got up at seven, she had fresh cinnamon buns coming out of the oven and had done two loads of laundry. She took the laundry outside to hang it on the line, the grass still dewy beneath her feet. After jamming her hair back with two combs to keep it out of her eyes, she shook the top towel out and pinned it to the line, savoring the clean, fresh mountain air.
"You've been goin' a spell, I see."
Kate turned, squinting at Cyrus. "Good morning, Cyrus. Yes, I have."
He fiddled with the brim of his hat, then cleared his throat. "Did Tanner make it back last night?"
She let the next towel sag in her hand, and she felt her throat start to tighten. Cyrus and Burt might have been the most unlikely pair ever to parent an adolescent boy, but they had done a damned fine job. Clearing her own throat, she met his worried gaze. "He got home about eleven. He's still in bed."
He gave a relieved nod. "Good. Good." He smacked his hat against his leg, then gestured to the south. "I have to head over to George Riddlestone's this morning. His missus butchered a bunch of stewin' hens for me, and he phoned – said we could pick 'em up this morning. Figured maybe them boys of yours might like an outing." He grinned, tipped his chin toward the house. "Could haul Ol' Burt along. He could do with another airing."
God, it sounded like heaven. It also sounded impossible. Jamming down that spurt of excitement, she managed a smile. "It would be too much—"
"Won't be too much," he interjected firmly. Then he grinned again. "One can't move a-tall, and the other two are halter-broke. I can manage jest fine."
Burt was so anxious to go that he wouldn't eat breakfast, so Kate sent along a thermos of juice and a big bag of cinnamon buns, with strict instructions to Mark on how to feed Burt. Burt told her to mind her own business, that he'd been chewing his food on his own since before she was born. Kate hoped that Mrs. Riddlestone had a supply of patience and a sense of humor.
Feeling almost giddy over having some time alone with Tanner, she waved them off. She fixed a basket of cinnamon buns, two large mugs of coffee and a large bowl of fresh strawberries, then placed everything on a tray. Tanner McCall was going to get breakfast in bed.
She eased into his room, then crossed to the bed and set the tray on the floor. She was on her way to open the blinds when he spoke from behind her. "Don't, Kate."
She was about to tease him about still being in bed, but she stopped, remembering the look on his face when he'd told her about being stripped. Ignoring the ache around her heart, she went back to the bed.
Bracing her arms on either side of his head, she leaned down and brushed a kiss along his jaw. "I brought you breakfast in bed," she said softly.
Kate felt him smile as he ran his hand under her T-shirt and up her rib cage. "Is this breakfast on the hoof?"
Grinning, she nipped his bottom lip, then looked down at him, the heavy shadows in the room tinged with a sepia tone from the blinds. "Not that kind of breakfast, Tanner. Real breakfast. Cinnamon buns, coffee, fresh strawberries."
He rubbed his hand up and down her rib cage, then stroked the indentation between two ribs with his thumb, amusement glinting in his eyes. "The real thing, huh?"
Kate kissed the corner of his mouth, a sudden frenzy in her chest leaving her breathless. "The real thing," she whispered.
His breathing faltered, and he caught a handful of hair and pulled her head down, then kissed the side of her neck, his mouth hot and moist and erotically searching.
"Tanner," she whispered, her tone a little breathless, a little urgent.
Releasing a long, tremulous sigh, he pulled one of her arms free, then drew her down on top of him, dragging her hair back from her neck before giving her another wet kiss. "The door's wide open, Katie," he said gruffly.
Weakness flooded through her, and Kate rolled her head, the feel of his mouth against her neck sending shivers up and down her spine. Barely coherent, she told him about Cyrus taking the boys and Burt. He went still, then exhaled in a rush, catching her under the jaw and holding her head as he nuzzled the taut muscle in her neck. Kate quit breathing altogether.
Hauling in a deep breath of air, he forced her head against his shoulder, holding her still. "Katie," he whispered, his voice unsteady. "I need to use the bathroom. And it might be a good idea if you went downstairs and locked the back door."
Kate knew what he was doing, and the last thing she wanted to do was leave him, but Tanner was still Tanner, and the reserve was still there. Only now she understood it. Feeling as if every muscle in her body had turned to jelly, she levered herself off the bed and left the room, having to stop and lean against the wall after she closed the door.
She did go downstairs and lock the door, then went to her room and stripped off her clothes, putting on her short cotton robe. She heard the shower running when she entered the bedroom, and she closed her eyes and leaned back against the door, her heart thundering in her chest, the thought of him touching her, stroking her, making her breathless and weak.
"Kate."
She opened her eyes and looked at him, saturated in sensation, her pulse thick and heavy. He was staring at her from the open bathroom door, his wrist braced high on the frame, his face taut. His jeans were unsnapped, and his shirt hung open, and he looked male, aroused, restrained – and hot. He stared at her, and Kate's knees went weaker and weaker; then he spoke, his voice low and strained. "Have a shower with me, Katie."
The intent was clear, but so was the fact that he was willing to let her see him at his most vulnerable. Unbearable feelings swelling up in her chest, she moved away from the door and reached for her belt. Without breaking eye contact with him, she put her own vulnerability on the line and undid her robe, then let it slide from her shoulders.
A muscle jerked in Tanner's jaw, and he came toward her, his hot gaze drilling into her. Reaching her, he gripped the back of her neck, taking her mouth in a kiss that paralyzed her and made her knees buckle. Expelling a ragged breath into her mouth, he swept her up, then turned toward the bathroom. The room was full of steam, the water from the shower running down the opaque glass in the shower stall, and Kate hung on to him with a desperate grip. The calluses on his hands were rough against her skin as he dragged his hand across her buttocks, then let her slide down his body, a spasm coursing through him as she turned flush against him. Taking her mouth in another hot, deep, wet kiss, he rubbed his hands over her hips, his breathing arrested as she pushed his arms away, then slid her hands down his shoulders and arms, stripping his shirt from his body. Breathing raggedly against her mouth, he reached for the front of his jeans, but Kate brushed his hands away, needing to do this for him. Needing to create new, untainted memories.
Opening her mouth wide against his and drinking in his taste, his need, she slid her hands under the fabric and down his buttocks, then dragged her mouth down his neck, down his chest, stopping to lick his hard male nipples. Slowly, so slowly, she settled to her knees. He made a low, guttural sound and grasped her head, his fingers snagging in her hair, holding her immobile. Sliding her hands down the backs of his thighs, she slowly licked his navel, and Tanner ground out her name and flattened himself against the wall, his hands clutching her head. She wanted to touch him everywhere, to erase the memories of those other humiliating, shaming, touches. She wanted to give him such pleasure that he would forget; she wanted to paralyze him with need. Caressing the backs of his knees, she pressed her mouth lower, then lower still, dragging her hands up and up, until her thumbs stroked the soft flesh of his inner thighs, and Tanner jerked and groaned her name. But he didn't pull her head away, and sensations piled in on her. "Look at me, Tanner," she whispered brokenly. "Please look." Then, on a soft moan, she took him into her mouth.
* * *
Lying with her head on Tanner's shoulder, Kate shifted, drawing her leg up over his, lazily stroking his ribs as she watched the blinds move in and out in the breeze. Tanner kissed the top of her head, then continued combing his fingers through her wet hair, gently easing out the tangles. He adjusted his other arm around her and stroked her hip, then spoke, his voice husky with amusement. "We're going to have to get some snorkels if we take any more showers like that."
Kate laughed softly and pinched him. "You could have just shut off the water, you know."
He found another knot in her hair and worked it loose. She could tell he was smiling when he answered. "It wouldn't have been the same, somehow."
Kate gave him a little hug, then shifted her head and looked at him, loving the warm glimmer in his eyes. She wasn't sure when or how they actually got into the shower, but by the time he backed her up against the wall and slipped into her, she'd been nearly out of her mind. And she hadn't quite recovered from it yet. Cupping his jaw, she stretched up and kissed him, loving the way his mouth went soft and pliant beneath hers. Drawing away, he released a long sigh and smoothed his hand across her hip, reluctance darkening his eyes. "It's nearly eleven, Kate," he said huskily. "Cyrus will be rolling in anytime now."
Kate heaved a sigh, as well. She wished she could stretch this morning out forever. She wiped the moisture off his mouth, then met his gaze. "Can you stay for a while?"
He smoothed her hair back, then lifted her chin and kissed her again. "I thought I'd make a day of it."
His answer filled her with happiness, and she cupped his jaw and kissed him, then reluctantly drew away. She did not want to get out of that bed. But Tanner was right; the others would be back any time. Extracting herself from his hold, she sat up, clutching the sheet against her. All at once she was faced with a new dilemma. Her robe was on the floor by the door, and she was very naked in bed. She felt suddenly shy and very awkward. Taking it off was one thing; getting out of bed and going to get it was something else altogether.
Shifting beside her, Tanner braced himself on one elbow, then turned her to look at him, his expression unsmiling. "Don't," he said softly. "Don't ever feel that way with me." Pulling the sheet from her hand, he gently, so gently, caressed the swell of her breast with the backs of his fingers; then he shifted closer and covered the nipple in a soft, wet, open-mouthed kiss. Kate couldn't breathe, and she closed her eyes and gripped his shoulder. He drew away, then pulled her head down, kissing her with immeasurable care. "You taste so damned good," he whispered huskily, and Kate wanted to dissolve.
"Tanner," she said, her tone breathless and eloquent.
She felt him smile against her mouth; then he abruptly rolled away, and she drew up her knees and weakly rested her head against them, her pulse in a frenzy.
God, the things he could do to her.
She heard a dresser door open, then the rustle of clothing. When she opened her eyes, he was zipping up a clean pair of jeans. He picked up the quilt off the floor and dropped it on the bed, then crossed the room and swept up her robe. Kate experienced a sobering sensation in her midriff when she saw the scar. He brought her robe to her, a definite smile in his eyes, but Kate couldn't smile back. Suddenly she had to know.
"How did you get that scar, Tanner?" she asked softly.
He shot her a startled glance; then, much to her amazement, she saw a flush creep up his cheeks. And it wasn't shame; it was simple embarrassment. The knot of disquiet eased, replaced by curiosity. "Tanner?" she prodded.
He sat down on the edge of the bed, avoiding her gaze, straightening the empty mugs on the tray. Kate poked him in the ribs He exhaled and looked at the ceiling; then he turned and met her gaze. "It's not what you think."
Suddenly Kate wanted to smile. "Then what is it?"
He gave her a long look; then a small smile appeared, and he shook his head at her tenacity. Finally he gave in. "I told you about getting mixed up with a girl my first year of high school." She nodded, and Tanner gave her another long look, and she could tell he was trying to make up his mind whether to tell her or not. After a moment of consideration, he gave her a warped grin. "When her father caught us, he had a dinner fork in his hand. I ended up wearing it."
Repressing a grin, she said solemnly, "I see."
The twinkle in his eyes intensified. "I thought you would."
Clutching her robe against her, Kate leaned over and kissed him, feeling almost indestructible. Life didn't get any better than this.
* * *
Chapter 13
«^»
It lasted three days, that feeling of absolute security. But then Kate got a phone call from the hospital in Calgary, informing her that Burt had been selected as a candidate for a provincially-funded geriatric rehabilitation program.
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