The Homecoming

by Raine Cantrell

Brave words when she was scared. While she couldn’t see them clearly, she knew there were too many to shoot.

  Inside the cabin, the dog’s growls ceased, but his barking quickly rose to a frenzy.

  Laine feared someone might be behind the cabin trying to sneak up on her. She knew they couldn’t get inside. There was no other door. She was the vulnerable one.

  The flaming torches wavered with a gust of wind off the lake. She thought them dark and menacing before, but now they appeared dangerous.

  She had to forcibly remind herself these men were predators. And she must not reveal a show of weakness.

  In a tiny corner of her mind she wished she could call out to Matt for help. But that was beyond a wish for a miracle.

  Whispering came from the men in front of her. She was unable to make out what they were scheming.

  “What are you waiting for? Leave here,” Laine demanded.

  “We’re gonna search. You can’t be shootin’ us all.”

  Laine eared back the hammer, tracking the man in front who had spoken. Her finger curled over the trigger.

  “Go ahead. Gamble that I’ll miss.”

  The mutters grew angrier among the others, but she refused to be distracted.

  “I am protecting my family. What will you do? Shoot me? Will any of you dare lift a hand against me? There are good folks around that will hang the lot of you. Making war on women. There aren’t enough shameful words for what the bunch of you are.”

  “Shut yore mouth, missy!”

  “I’ll speak my mind. I’m telling you there is no one hiding here. Yet you come like thieves and murderers in the night, frightening a lone woman. Have you no wives, mothers, sisters, or daughters? Would you see them treated like this? Ripped from their beds in to face armed men?”

  “We got us a job to do. You’re preventin’ us.”

  “Yore in cahoots with them traitors!”

  Finally a voice she knew. She pointed her pistol in its direction. “I might have known Hartly Oakes would ride with polecats. He’s the lowest of the low.”

  Laine didn’t know how she held her gun steady. Her whole body had fine, inner tremors that would be visible in moments. She felt a scream welling in her throat. With gritted teeth, her lips a tight, flat line, she swallowed repeatedly until she knew she regained a measure of control.

  The shutter to her side opened. A gun barrel poked out.

  “You heard her, mister. You leave me and my sisters alone. She ain’t gonna miss, and I sure won’t.”

  Oh, Tater! Laine wanted to scream, cry, and rail at her brother, then hug him for being so bravely foolish. But her siblings weren’t done with her.

  The other front shutter popped open with the longer barrel of Matt’s carbine sticking out.

  Mutters grew to louder, angrier voices, and Laine had to force herself to stand still. She realized she was holding her breath. She had to make herself breathe.

  “Go on. Ride out,” Rachel ordered, the gun barrel tracking the bunched men.

  “We’ll be back.”

  “You have had your warning,” Laine said. “You come back, I’ll shoot on sight.”

  Laine stood and watched as the horses milled near the narrow path, then one by one they rode away.

  Still she remained as she was, seeing the fading light of the torches, reining in her temper.

  “Get the hell inside!”

  Laine spun around. “Matt?”

  The door opened and the dog shot by her, quartering the grass and growling.

  “Get in before … I fall down.”

  “Damnation,” she muttered under her breath, stumbling her way inside. She barely managed to holster her gun. The remaining coals in the fireplace gave off a faint glow.

  Matt stood swaying, gripping the back of a chair. A blanket was wrapped around his hips. His carbine leaned against the wall.

  “You fool! What are you doing out of bed? And you, Rachel. Didn’t I tell you…”

  “The only fool is you.” Matt’s voice was hoarse, his breathing harsh. “Going out. Confronting them. You want to get killed?”

  “No. I was stopping them from killing you. I shouldn’t have bothered. You’re going to do it yourself.”

  “Laine.”

  “What?”

  “Don’t s-scold. I ain’t gonna make …”

  “You dog-eared mule. Don’t you dare pass out. I’ll never get you back in bed.”

  Laine rushed to him. She lifted his arm over her shoulder and wrapped her arms around his waist. Rachel did the same on his other side. Laine’s heart was pounding as they got him back into bed. She found he was still warm, but nowhere as bad as he had been.

  “Stay in bed, Matt. I’ll be right back.” She knew how harsh she sounded, but she didn’t dare give way now. A look at Rachel had her following meekly out of the room.

  Laine busied herself checking that the shutters were closed and barred. A few pieces of kindling had the fire flare, and Laine added some split wood. With a minimum of fuss, she made tea. Thankfully, Rachel kept quiet while she calmed herself. But an inner core of fear remained.

  “Laine …”

  “No. Let me go first. You disobeyed me. You risked Matt being seen …”

  “You were out there risking your life! I kept him quiet. But I couldn’t stop him from hearing what you said. He knew what was happening. Short of knocking him on the head, I couldn’t stop him. I didn’t think we needed to deal with that, too.” She shoved the chair back to the table.

  “Laine, you shouldn’t drink tea that strong. You need sleep.”

  “I’m cold.” She stood closer to the fire.

  “Cold? Were you truly afraid?”

  “I always confront armed men in the middle of the night.”

  “No need to be snippy. My bones feel like they’ll shake loose. You, on the other hand, are always so calm.”

  Laine didn’t want to talk about how afraid she had been and, truth be told, still was.

  “Where’s Tater?”

  “Since the door is barred, he’s in bed.”

  The pot started to rattle now that the water was boiling. Laine knew she had to let it settle before she poured a cup. She simply couldn’t wait. The thick mug warmed her hands as she blew to cool the liquid.

  “Would you like me to make a tisane for Matt?”

  “If he knows what’s good for him, he’ll be asleep by the time I get there.”

  “He’s a sick, wounded man.”

  “He’s a lop-eared mule stubborn fool of a man who hasn’t got the sense the Lord gave a blade of grass.”

  “That’s like the kettle calling the fry pan black.”

  “Now who’s being snippy.” Laine drank deeply, welcoming the heat that warmed her insides. She set the mug down. “I’m going to bed.”

  “‘Night, Laine.”

  She nodded, and out of Rachel’s sight, shivered. She rubbed her arms to chase the chilling cold away. When she stumbled the last few feet to the bed, Laine knew she had reached her limit. She nearly ripped off the gunbelt, tossed it on the floor, and sat to remove her boots only to find she wasn’t wearing any.

  “Matt?” she whispered.

  He didn’t answer.

  Laine stretched out beside him. Her hand felt his forehead. Warm, not hot. Thankful for small mercies, she reached down to drag up one of the quilts he had pushed to the foot of the bed. Laine knew she should make a bed on the floor. It was a thought never pursued.

  Exhaustion swept through her.

  Hours later, with sleepy murmurs, Laine nestled deeper into the warmth that surrounded her. Here was the sheltering haven she had been dreaming about. That she had finally found what she had been seeking settled with bone deep contentment to ease away every bit of tension from her body.

  Long, slow strokes over her back invited her closer to the faint scent of mint that teased her senses. Hair tickled her nose. She couldn’t summon
the strength to raise her hand to brush it away. A slight move of her head brought her cheek to rest against a hard cushion.

  She frowned, but the tickling sensation stopped, only to be replaced by light, heated touches that moved from her temple to her cheek to her ear. Warm breath fanned her skin, sending frissons of awareness that she could no longer ignore.

  Her eyelids fluttered as she struggled awake.

  Laine parted her lips, licked them to speak, and found her mouth captured by Matt’s. It was all she could do not to groan aloud. She was shocked by the depth of hunger exploding through her. His arms tightened, pulling her closer to the hard contours of his body. She wanted—needed—to free her arms to hold him. To touch more than his muscular chest.

  Laine’s kneading motion sent licks of fire through Matt. Her sigh and catch of breath heaped fuel to burn deeper, hotter than the fever that had raged through him.

  He caught her lower lip between his teeth with fierce restraint, holding her flesh captive as he traced the lush fullness with the tip of his tongue. He was rewarded with the trembling that beset her. Matt stroked her again with his tongue. Hungry now for a deeper joining, he released her lower lip and followed her indrawn breath between her parted lips. His tongue swept inside, kissing her with an intimacy that brought her tiny husky cry.

  Laine felt his corded muscles and heard his ragged breath. Or was it her own? She fought the light-headedness that threatened her.

  There was no right or wrong. Just the irresistible, tantalizing taste of him luring her to explore every new sensation.

  And want more.

  She slid a hand free to caress his shoulder, his cheek, her fingers tangling into his dark hair. Laine wanted to get closer still to Matt. It wasn’t possible to be held tighter, but he did.

  She couldn’t draw breath.

  And she didn’t care.

  Something wild, so untamed had her yielding her mouth to him and taking his in turn. The intimacy he had taught her was returned with nothing of herself held back from him.

  She sensed a shift of his body, heard a low groan as his tongue began the sensual dance of deeper penetration and withdrawal. His hands went from her back to her thigh in long slow strokes that set off flashpoints of heat. The angle of his hard body had her arching up to remain near to him.

  Laine thought she had tasted passion and knew its depth, but what went before paled under the intensity of heated lightning scoring her.

  But there had to be more.

  She needed the hot press of his body to ease the ache in hers. Moment by moment, a tensioned knot was tightening inside her.

  Her sounds of frustration changed to small cries of pleasure when he swept up her shirt and cupped her breast. She trembled, but not in fear, for she instinctively knew that Matt would soothe this growing hunger. The heat of his hand on her bare flesh, the fiery lick of his tongue and warm breath teased and tormented her.

  Laine locked her arms around his neck. She twisted with restless need.

  “Matt. Matt, please …”

  He didn’t answer with words. Slowly he caressed her until her nipple peaked. The husky sound from Laine echoed his own coaxing praise. She was fire consuming him. He suckled her until her nipple grew hard against his tongue. She was shaking, sensuous whimpers coming with every breath.

  “You’re going to burn me alive.”

  Before Laine could answer him, Matt claimed her mouth again. His hand slid to her hip, turning her, fitting the soft nest above her thighs to the hard male flesh she aroused. He rocked her against him, all the while his tongue mated with hers.

  Sudden pleasure drenched her, easing the knot, and just as quickly building it tight again.

  Laine wanted to give back the intense feeling he had drawn from her. She tried to follow Matt’s strokes and caresses across his back and down his muscular arm, where she encountered the cloth wrapped around his wound.

  “Matt! Matt, stop.” With a stifled cry she pulled free, pushing at his shoulder. She was no longer scalded but feeling doused with cold water.

  “Matt, we can’t do this.” Hushed and horrified, she scrambled back off the bed.

  “We can’t?”

  “You can’t.”

  “I thought I was doing just fine. We both were.”

  “No. I mean yes, it was fine, but I won’t hurt you.”

  “You pulling away like that sure hurts. Laine …”

  “Don’t you Laine me in that patronizing tone. I’ve been through hell trying to save your life.”

  “I know.”

  “You know? And you still … still …”

  “I didn’t mean to take this so far.”

  Laine wrapped her arms around her waist. Where heat had made her shiver with excitement, cold replaced it. She was supposed to be the sensible one. The practical one. She didn’t know herself at all.

  “I can’t trust myself around you, Laine.”

  “Matt, I take blame for this, too. But I wasn’t fighting you.”

  “Why is that, Laine?”

  “I don’t know. Why don’t you figure out the answer, then tell me.”

  She made a dash for the door and closed it behind her. Tears scalded her cheeks. She couldn’t begin to sort out the toil of emotions ripping through her. She padded barefoot to the fireplace and sat before it. Feeding a few sticks of kindling, she watched the flames flare up just like Matt touching her. Burning alive, he’d called it.

  She curled into a huddled ball and found the dog had come to keep her silent company.

  Matt had no comfort. He slumped back against the pillows. Things had gone to hell in a handbasket. He’d told Laine the truth. He hadn’t meant to take things so far. When he woke with her snuggled against him, he wasn’t thinking, but reacting.

  If he hadn’t kissed her he would have throttled her for what she had done. Sickness churned inside him when he relived those moments of listening to her defy those men.

  He fought down the killing rage that attempted to take over. He thought about Laine. How kissing her was lighting a match to tinder-instant fire that brought him to the edge.

  He was still rigid with desire, his whole body flexed and hard. The very last thing he’d been aware of was his wound.

  Laine had the power to steal every thought and feeling until need for her consumed him.

  There was only one way he could protect her, both from himself and the danger he had brought to her door.

  She’d likely kick up hell’s own fuss, but he had right on his side.

  But he wanted her more than he wanted his next breath.

  Chapter Fourteen

  If Rachel and Tater were surprised to find Laine up with breakfast ready, they wisely kept quiet. A plate of steaming biscuits sat on the table with jars of honey and jam.

  “There’s coffee and tea. Help yourselves.”

  “Where are you going, Laine?”

  “I have wash water heating.”

  “Oh, no,” Rachel moaned.

  “It’s a hard, tiring chore, but it needs to be done.”

  “Tater!” Matt called from Laine’s bedroom.

  “You better go see what he wants.”

  “Me, Laine?”

  “It’s you he’s calling.”

  Tater eyed the biscuits, then ran back to see what Matt wanted. He returned quickly.

  “He wants his clothes.”

  “His clothes?”

  “That’s what he said, Laine. Can I eat now?”

  “Go ahead. I’ll see about this.”

  “I have his clothes. I washed them. I mended his shirt, too.”

  “That was kind of you, Rachel. But Matt won’t be needing them.”

  Laine’s emotions swung every which way. A little anger, a little despair, a lot of frustration. She longed for someone to talk to. Marching to her door, she took a deep breath and knocked. Hard.

  “I’m coming in.”

  M
att wasn’t any more ready to see her than she was to see him. Truth was, she couldn’t see him since she was staring at the floor.

  He sat on the side of the bed, a blanket wrap keeping him decent. But he wanted to hold Laine. Her skin was pale, with dark shadows beneath her eyes. After last night, the mannish clothes she wore did little to hide the lush femininity he had discovered. Just the thought was enough to arouse him. Her lovely hair was braided and wrapped tight around her head. His own face staring back from her mirror when he shaved showed the same paleness, the same shadows beneath his eyes.

  He was so sorry the ravages of the last few days had left visible signs. But it only hardened his decision.

  “Laine, I asked Tater for my clothes.” He kept his voice low and patient.

  “Why? You’re not going anywhere. Robert said at least a week of bed rest.”

  He had no intention of being goaded into a fight, even if she sounded like she was more than ready for one.

  “Robert’s not here. And I want my clothes.” A little steel leaked through the patience.

  “It’s a lovely day.” Still without looking at him, she crossed the room to open the shutter. “There. You’ll have plenty of fresh air.”

  When Laine turned around, she confronted Matt’s bare chest. He hadn’t made a sound.

  “Back away, Matt.”

  “Why? You couldn’t get close enough …”

  “Don’t you dare bring that up!”

  “I’ll bring it up. I’m not about to forget. If I stay, you won’t be forgetting. And it’s going to happen again. Is that what you want?”

  She didn’t answer. She refused to look up at him.

  “Give. Me. My. Clothes. If you don’t, I’ll go as I am. And if anyone sees me and asks, I’ll tell them Miz Laine Ellis refused to let me get dressed.”

  Well he had what he wanted. She looked at him. He’d seen friendlier eyes over a gun barrel.

  “You wouldn’t dare.”

  “Try me.”

  “You are no gentleman.”

  “Never said I was.” He had to exert force on himself not to pull her into his arms and explain how he felt. He didn’t think Laine would listen.

  “Where are you going that has you in an all fired hurry?” Her hand curled into fists, her chin jutted, and her gaze had a mulish cast.