by Connie Mason
Jess nodded sagely. "I know exactly how you feel."
"No, you don't, Doc. And neither of us know what went through Meggie's mind when the bastard was attacking her. You can't possibly understand because she hasn't told you what happened to her when she was still a young girl."
Jess went still. "Why don't you tell me?"
Zach shook his head. "I can't. Meggie will tell you if she wants you to know. I know for damn sure that this latest fiasco spells the end of Meggie's career. Carelessness leads to death. She knows that. I taught her everything I know. She learned to shoot, ride, and track a man. And she was damn good at it.
"At first the lessons were meant to take her mind off her problems, and to give her confidence. Then everything changed. Meggie became serious about bounty hunting and no amount of persuasion could change her mind. I began to relax when she brought in her first outlaw without mishap. After that there was no stopping her. The Calders were her first mistake. Fremont was her second. Her third could be fatal. I know it and she knows it."
"I hope you're right," Jess said with feeling. "Go on home and get some rest, Zach. I'll bring Meg home tomorrow."
"I could wait around, Doc."
"I expect Meg to sleep the clock around. I could use some sleep myself. Don't worry, I'll take good care of her."
"If you're sure," Zach said with marked reluctance.
"Very sure. I'm going up to check on Meg now, then I'm going to find my own bed."
Jess locked the door after Zach and started up the stairs. He hadn't been lying, he was so bone weary he couldn't think straight, but he wanted see Meg first. Cautiously he opened the door to the spare bedroom and peered inside. Meg was lying in bed atop the rumpled coverlet. She was still wearing her gunbelt, trousers and boots. Jess smiled and shook his head. Apparently she'd been too tired to remove them by herself.
Jess tiptoed to the bed and carefully removed her boots. Meg didn't even stir. Her gunbelt went next. Jess tossed it onto a nearby chair. Then he unfastened her trousers and pulled them off along with her drawers.
An angry gasp exploded from his lips when he saw purpling bruises marring the tender flesh of her inner thighs. He heard her whimper in her sleep and his gaze shot up to her face. Even in sleep her expression was troubled, as if she were suffering untold anguish. It nearly ripped him apart. What terrible secret was Meg hiding? Who had hurt her?
Meg moved restlessly in her sleep. Another moan slipped past her lips and Jess could bear it no longer. He quickly shed his clothing and climbed into bed beside her, tugging the bedcovers up over both of them. Then he took her into his arms and crooned softly,"No one is going to hurt you, love. Rest easy. I won't let anyone harm you."
It must have worked for Meg sighed, snuggled against his chest, and immediately calmed. Moments later, Jess joined her in sleep.
Purple shadows flirted with daylight when Meg awakened. Her mouth was dry, her body ached, and she was starving. She also had to use the privy. Slowly she became aware of a warm presence beside her and an unaccustomed pressure around her waist. She went very still, suddenly aware that she wasn't in her own bed. Turning her head, she was stunned to see Jess's big body curled around her, his arms hugging her middle.
It took but a moment for her to remember everything that had happened during the past twenty-four hours. Her last recollection was of Jess carrying her into his spare bedroom. What happened after that was a blank in her mind.
Her squirming around must have awakened Jess for his opened his eyes and smiled at her. "How do you feel?"
"Like I've been thrown from my horse." Gingerly she touched her jaw and winced."
"Fremont was pretty rough with you."
He surged out of bed. "Lie still. I'll fetch water and towels so you can clean up. After that, a thorough examination. Then breakfast."
Meg rose up on her elbow. "Jess, I don't think..."
"I'm the doctor here, remember?"
"I have to..."
"The chamber pot is under the bed," he said crisply, as if reading her mind.
"I'm not an invalid. A few bruises aren't going to kill me."
"Nevertheless, humor me."
Her answer died in her throat when he paused beside the bed, hands on hips, daring her to protest. He was nude, every magnificent inch of him. Everything about this man was pleasing to look at. He might be a doctor but the width and breadth of his strong body proved he was no stranger to physical exercise.
Her gaze followed a tantalizing path down a muscular chest and taut stomach. Her breath hitched and her eyes widened when she saw his sex rising from a nest of black at the juncture of his thighs. Flushing, her gaze returned to his face.
"Sorry about that," Jess said, sounding not at all apologetic. "You have but to look at me and I get hard." He turned away and pulled on his clothes. "I'll be back," he said as he hurried out the door.
While Jess was gone, Meg used the chamber pot and studied herself in the narrow mirror hanging over the dresser. Her face looked terrible. The bruise on her jaw spread upward in a purple smudge across her right cheek. Her other cheek bore the imprint of Fremont's hand. So did her breasts. She couldn't see beyond that in the mirror, but she supposed she bore more bruises on her thighs.
Intuitively Meg knew her days of bounty hunting were over. Her close call with Fremont had all but destroyed her career as a bounty hunter. She'd always been so sure of herself, so confident of her ability, that she'd never considered failure. After bringing in the first outlaw, the others became easier. Until the Calders. Until Jess had walked into her life.
Her inspection finished, Meg pulled the sheet around her and sat on the edge of the bed to wait for Jess. He returned a short time later, freshly shaved and wearing clean clothing. He set the basin of water and towels he carried on the nightstand.
"You can wash up while I go fetch my medical bag."
Meg made good use of the water and towels during Jess's
absence. By the time he returned she was back in bed with the sheet pulled up to her neck.
Jess wore a businesslike expression as he set his black bag on the bed and took Meg's pulse.
"There's really no need for this, Jess," Meg said. "I'm fine."
"Let me be the judge of that."
"Where's Zach?"
"I sent him home. I told him I'd bring you home myself tomorrow."
"What time is it?"
"Seven-thirty. We slept nearly the whole day through. I'll bet you're hungry."
"Starved."
"When I finish up here I'll see what I can find in the pantry."
He peered closely at her face, his fingertips gentle upon her tender flesh. Then he pulled the sheet down to her waist, clucking his tongue as he examined the bruises on her breasts. His fingers felt warm and slightly arousing as they slid over her breasts. She sighed softly and tried to think of other things as he accidentally brushed her nipples with his knuckles.
His hands left her breasts and traveled over each rib, searching for fractures. He seemed satisfied with what he found for his grim expression eased. When he shoved the sheet down to her ankles, Meg shuddered and went still.
"I'm going to ask you one more time, Meg, and I want the truth. "Did Fremont rape you?"
"My answer is still the same. No, he didn't. These bruises will heal in a few days and I'll be just like new. Can I get up now?"
Meg's breath hitched as Jess parted her thighs and touched the livid bruises he found there. "I should have killed him," he muttered darkly. His hazel eyes glowed with restrained ardor as he lowered his head and laved each purple bruise with his tongue.
Meg arched into his caress. "Jess!"
His mouth moved upward along her thigh. She knew what he intended and girded herself against the exquisite pleasure of his intimate kiss.
Jess took a deep wild taste of her and knew he would never get enough of her. He heard her whisper his name, felt a tremor go through her and her legs stiffen. Spreading her thighs wide, he par
ted the tender petals of her inner flesh, teasing the sensitive nubbin at the entrance of her sex with his tongue. He heard her breath quicken and let his own out in a groaning sigh. She tasted sweeter than ambrosia; he couldn't get enough.
Suddenly he felt her body go rigid. She let out a sobbing cry and clutched his shoulders so hard he was sure she had scored them through his shirt. When her last shudder stilled, Jess removed his mouth and tore off his clothing. Then he covered her with his body. Her arms went around him, as if she feared he would leave.
"Jess."
His name was a soft, heated whisper on her lips, her breath warm upon his face. He drew her nipple into his mouth and suckled her gently. He heard her gasp. Her hands tightened in her hair, holding him tightly against her as his mouth laved and teased her nipples.
"Open for me, love," he whispered hoarsely. "It's been so long, so damn long."
Nudging her knees apart, he settled between them and kissed her full on the lips; a kiss of possession, of hungry passion, as he slowly filled her with himself.
Meg held him tight and let the pleasure build, let it carry her beyond herself. Each sensation battered her senses, overloaded her mind. His hard body, heavy on her, his chest hard, hair-roughened, rasping against the soft flesh of her breasts and sensitive nipples. She was aware of the flexing of his spine, the rhythmic fusing of their bodies as he anchored her hips in his big hands and drove into her. Excitement, hot, unquenchable, erotic, swelled and built.
She felt him deep inside her, become an integral part of her, her softness gripping his hardness, taking all of him and needing more. His kiss deepened and she tasted his passion on her tongue.
On a shuddering moan, Meg felt her bones melting, felt her senses soar. She was floating, taking all he had to give, her eager body begging for more.
He gave her more, filling her body and her senses with heady delight. She gasped, moaned, and arched, fearing she would break on the torturous rack of sensual excitement. But she didn't break, she merely shattered. Ecstasy filled her. Whatever she needed, he gave. Mouth to mouth, breast to breast, softness gripping hardness.
Jess drove himself into her, savoring every torrid inch that hugged him so tightly, pausing a moment to feel her throb around him. He withdrew, only to thrust deeply again, and yet again, pushing her higher until her head was thrashing blindly from side to side. He knew when the end was near for he felt the keen edge of her tension ready to explode. Then he released her. She went rigid, screaming his name.
Raising himself on his elbows above her, he wanted to watch her. He'd never seen anything or anyone more beautiful than Meg in the throes of ecstasy. Gloriously wanton, recklessly abandoned, wild in her need. Her volatile climax triggered his own. He thrust deeply, once, again, gave a shout of triumph, and spilled his seed deep inside her. Then slowly he relaxed atop her, lowering his weight on her briefly before he rolled to one side, still holding her in his arms.
"I didn't hurt you, did I?" Jess asked anxiously. She made him so damn hot he'd lost control. "You've bruises all over your body. I'd never forgive myself if I added to them."
"You didn't hurt me," Meg said. Her eyes grew misty. "I never knew making love could be so wonderful. I was too frightened the first time we made love to enjoy it as much as I did today."
Jess grasped her hand and brought it to his lips. "You're not frightened now, are you?"
"Of you? Never."
He shifted her in his arms until they were facing one another. He needed to ask Meg something but didn't know how to broach the subject. Finally, he just blurted out, "Who is Arlo?"
Meg went still. He could tell by her stunned expression that he had surprised her.
"How do you know about Arlo?"
"You mentioned his name while you were in shock after Fremont's attack."
She dropped her gaze, refusing to look at Jess or even answer.
"Meg, you can tell me," Jess cajoled. "I know there was a man or men in your life for you weren't a virgin the first time I took you."
"Meg raised her gaze to his and shook her head. "I can't."
Her hollow, vacant stare distressed him. This was something she had carried with her a long time. As a doctor he knew that getting her to talk about it was the best medicine.
"Do you think I'd condemn you?"
"It's not that. I...just can't talk about it?"
"Was it so horrible?"
"It was to a sixteen year old girl."
"What about your family? You've never mentioned them."
"Jess, please."
"Does Zach know?"
"Zach knows everything there is to know about me."
"You've carried this with you a long time, haven't you?"
He heard her suck in a deep breath. "Let's talk about you. I saw the poster, Jess."
Now it was Jess's turn to express shock. "You saw..."
"At the sheriff's office, the day I stopped in to see if anything new had come in. You and your brothers are wanted for bank robbery. You lied to me. You are running from the law."
Jess scowled, his hard gaze pinning her to the mattress. "Are you going to turn me in?"
"Had I wanted to I would have done so before now."
"Has the sheriff seen the poster?"
"No. He's been too busy. My experience has been that he gives them a cursory glance when he finds the time. I shoved your poster to the back of the drawer with the others after I looked through them. Maybe he'll forget about them."
"Not the way my luck has been running," Jess muttered.
"Why did you do it?" Meg asked. "Why would an accomplished doctor rob a bank?"
Jess went still. "Do you really believe I robbed a bank?" God, how could she think that of him?
"I don't want to believe it," Meg said slowly. "What happened?"
"It's a long story. Why don't we eat first? I'm so hungry my stomach thinks my throat's been cut. I don't know what's left in the pantry, but there has to be something we can throw together. I was thinking of hiring a combination housekeeper and cook, but it appears now that my days here are numbered."
He rose from bed and began pulling on his discarded clothing.
Meg slid out of bed and rummaged around for her clothes. "What are you going to do?"
"Looks like I've worn out my welcome here. Maybe I'll head West. To Washington or Oregon."
They finished dressing in silence. Dusk had given way to darkness and Jess lit a lamp and led the way downstairs to the kitchen. He set the lamp on the table while they searched the pantry food. Meg was delighted to find several eggs and some bacon wrapped in a cloth, while Jess brought forth a partial loaf of stale bread and coffee beans.
"I don't often cook for myself," Jess apologized, eyeing the pitifully small amount of food they had gathered.
"It's enough," Meg said. "You take care of the coffee and I'll fix us some bacon and eggs. That stale bread won't taste bad toasted."
Soon delicious smells wafted through the kitchen. The coffee was done about the same time Meg set a plate of bacon and eggs and a mound of toasted bread on the table. Then they dug in, forgetting for a moment the seriousness of their previous conversation. Meg waited until Jess drained the last drop of coffee from his cup before broaching the subject that was uppermost in her mind.
"You said you would tell me about the bank robbery," she reminded him.
Jess sat back and stared into his empty cup. "The Gentry brothers never robbed that bank. True, we were in the bank, but it was to ask for a loan to save our farm. The Gentrys weren't popular in town. We were Southern supporters in a place filled with Union sympathizers. As transplanted Confederates we joined the losing side early in the war. We lost our father but we survived.
When Cantrell's raiders swept through Kansas our farm was right in their path. We desperately needed money to restore our property. Unfortunately banker Wingate didn't see things our way. He turned us down flat. We were about to leave when he shocked us with an offer. If one of us married h
is pregnant daughter, he'd give us our loan."
"That's despicable," Meg blasted. "Of course you refused."
"Of course. Obviously Wingate wasn't pleased for we had no sooner cleared the door when he yelled 'bank robbery' at the top of his lungs. He claimed we cleaned out his office safe."
"What did you do?"
"Maybe we were wrong to run," Jess reminisced. "We stopped at the farm long enough to gather a few mementos. By then the posse was after us. Dodge City is a rough town with rough inhabitants. We wouldn't have had a chance had we stuck around to defend ourselves. We would have been strung up without a trial before the sheriff could stop it. So we split up. Rafe rode West and Sam headed South. We made plans to meet in Denver one year from the day we split up. Each of us feared that one of us wouldn't make it."
Meg searched Jess's face. "There's more to it than that, isn't there?"
Was he so transparent? Jess wondered. Meg couldn't possibly know about the guilt he suffered for making outlaws of his brothers unless she had read his mind.
"What do you mean?"
"I knew you were harboring a secret, and now that I know what it is, I sense that something else is bothering you."
Jess laughed, trying to make light of his guilt. "Are you a witch?"
"Maybe. Or maybe I'm astute enough to know what you're feeling."
"My brothers are outlaws because of me," Jess blurted out. "Delia Wingate's unborn could be mine. I dallied with her but I wasn't the only one. Had I owned up to the deed, Rafe and Sam would be home on the farm now, putting the loan to good use. I didn't want to claim a child that might not be mine. I was a coward."
"You're not looking at this logically," Meg insisted. "You knew Delia was...bedding other men so you owed her nothing. You can't blame yourself for not taking responsibility when you weren't the only man involved."
Jess shook his head. "I should have done it for my brothers. Rafe is the oldest but I was the most responsible brother, the sensible one. The family could always depend upon me to do the right thing. Only I didn't this time."