Apache-Colton Series

by Janis Reams Hudson

  Serena laughed with him. Her heart lurched at the boyish glee on his face. It was the first time he had laughed since she’d come to Tombstone.

  When he finally calmed, she went on. “You haven’t heard the best of it yet.”

  “Oh, no,” he said wiping the tears from his eyes. “There’s more?”

  “Is there ever. Dad and a couple of men from town thought the wire to the Pope was a bit much, so they bribed the telegraph operator out of sending it. Then they drafted a reply of their own. I brought the clipping so I could read it to you.” She forced the laughter from her voice and took on a serious tone as she read the copy of the telegram.

  “‘His Holiness the Pope acknowledges with appreciation receipt of your telegram informing him that the ancient city of Tucson at last has been connected by rail with the outside world and sends his benediction, but for his own satisfaction would ask, where in hell is Tucson?’“

  Matt burst out laughing again, a full-throated roaring laugh. In between her own giggles, Serena said, “It’s signed Antonelli.”

  “Oh, Lord. I can’t picture Dad having anything to do with that telegram.”

  Serena just grinned at him.

  “Did he really?”

  “I don’t know how much of it he composed, but I saw the original, and the whole thing was in his handwriting.”

  Matt held his sides and laughed again. “What did Leatherwood say?”

  “By the time somebody read the thing to the entire town in the middle of the celebration that night, Leatherwood and everybody else there was so drunk no one even questioned it.”

  “That sounds like Bob,” he said. “He should have stuck to shoveling manure and stayed out of politics.”

  The laughter they shared over the absurd telegram set the tone for the days that followed. Serena pushed her longings aside and concentrated on taking Matt’s mind off his troubles. They were like two children again, only it had never been quite this good between them before.

  In the past, Matt had always been in charge, responsible for her welfare when they were together. When she’d first arrived in Tombstone the situation had been exactly the opposite. Now it had changed again. It was more even, more balanced. Matt helped her as much as his broken leg allowed, then he stood back and let her do what she had to do.

  Serena fed him, always badgering him to eat more. She poured milk down him until he swore it was coming out his ears. She teased him and laughed with him, but when that certain faraway look came over his face, she learned to ease off and give him the privacy he needed.

  Their relationship had changed. It pleased Serena and puzzled Matt. No longer were they older brother and younger sister. Matt was amazed to realize they had somehow become equals. Friends. The very best of friends.

  He’d had other female friends. Dani had been his best friend since she married his father when Matt was ten years old. Then came Angela, but that was different. In addition to the love they shared, they both honestly liked each other, but from the very beginning their relationship had been too intense for mere friendship.

  And Kali. She was his friend.

  But Rena was…different…special. She was softer, yet somehow stronger than most women, easier to be with, fun. She let him be himself, with no lectures, at least not lately, on what he should and shouldn’t do. Except when it came to the welfare of his leg…or his stomach, he thought wryly.

  He’d never admit it in a million years, but he was actually starting to like that damned goat’s milk.

  “You just washed my hair yesterday,” Matt said, eyeing Serena while she dragged the brass tub before the fireplace and began filling it with hot water.

  “This isn’t for you, it’s for me,” she said, trying to keep the quiver from her voice. She’d been very careful so far not to do anything even remotely connected with the teasing and tempting Kali had recommended. But that cold creek was about to get the best of her. Matt would just have to turn his back or go outside, she determined.

  Matt swallowed, suddenly uncomfortable in the closeness of the small room. He tried to shrug off his unease. “So you’re after a hot bath, huh?”

  “Yes. The creek is freezing, there’s a storm brewing to the southwest, and I feel like I need a good soak. I hope you don’t mind,” she said tentatively.

  A devil pricked him. His unease evaporated. “Why should I mind?”

  She narrowed her eyes at the teasing in his voice.

  Matt grinned. He was about to give her a dose of her own medicine. “Like you said to me,” he continued, “it won’t be anything I haven’t seen before.”

  “Matt!”

  He laughed at the shock and denial on her face.

  “There’s not a man alive who’s ever seen me naked, least of all you!”

  “Oh, but you’re wrong,” he taunted. “Not only have I seen you, I’ve even kissed your bare bottom.”

  “You have not!” she shrieked.

  “More than once,” he stated emphatically. “The first time I did it, you were about a week old.” The look on her face was priceless. “Not only that,” he continued relentlessly, “I used to bury my face in your belly and make growling noises. Of course, I did the same thing to Pace, but he doubled up his fist and hit me in the eye. You, on the other hand, loved it.”

  “Well,” she said flippantly, a telltale blush staining her cheeks, “you’ve never seen me take a bath, and I don’t intend you start now, so would you mind turning your back while I undress?”

  “But I have seen you take a bath. In fact, I even gave you one once, the night Spence was born. You were three years old. I was pretty good at it.”

  “Ha,” she declared. “What were you, thirteen? Experienced man of the world. You should have been ashamed of yourself, taking advantage of a helpless young girl that way.”

  Sweat popped out along Matt’s upper lip. Good God. What the hell was he doing, sitting here teasing her about giving her a bath when she was getting ready to—

  One of her moccasins hit the floor. He gulped. She was—

  The second moccasin hit the floor. He jerked. His heart thundered in his ears.

  She reached around to unbutton her skirt.

  Matt grabbed his crutches and stumped out of the room like his tail was on fire. He knew his face damn sure was.

  Serena sighed and closed her eyes. Damn. Why did she do that? Because you wanted him to stay, said a nasty little voice in the back of her brain. You wanted him to watch you undress. You wanted him to see you as a woman.

  Tears stung her eyes. She walked slowly over to the door and closed it, then finished undressing. Thunder rumbled in the distance.

  Perfect, she thought. Let it rain. It would match her mood.

  Matt crashed through the brush in the dark on his unsteady crutches. The only thought he gave to the occasional flashes of lightning was that they helped him see where he was going. Not that it mattered. He didn’t have the slightest idea where he was headed, except he knew he was running away.

  One minute he’d been innocently teasing her, and the next, he’d caught himself staring at that half-breed skin of hers glowing golden copper in the lamplight, her pale blue eyes with their thick black lashes. Her dark moist lips.

  Sweet Jesus, he’d definitely been without a woman too long if he could feel what he’d just felt for his own sister.

  Is she really your sister?

  Yes, damn it. Yes.

  Chapter Seven

  Serena tied her hair up to keep it dry, then stepped into the tub. As the warm water seeped into her pores, her bones, she forgot everything. Oh, it was heavenly. It was heavenly not to think, to only feel. Her muscles quivered, then relaxed one by one. Steam wafted upward to curl the little tendrils of hair around her face.

  After several minutes of sheer physical pleasure, Serena forced herself to sit up and wash. She scrubbed her face and neck, then after rinsing the suds away, she paused to listen.

  Thunder.

  Suddenly s
he began to hurry, her leisurely bath cut short by the threat of rain. Matt would be back any second, and she didn’t want to be caught like this.

  Yes you do.

  Shut up. No I don’t.

  And she wasn’t. By the time she had donned her white cotton nightgown, Matt wasn’t back yet. Just as she belted her robe the rain hit. Thunder and lightning crashed all around. Rain gushed down in torrents, poured, as if someone were dumping buckets of water onto a tiny anthill.

  Serena went to the door, thinking to open it in case Matt needed the light to guide him home. As she lifted the latch, a gust of wind tore the door from her hands and crashed it against the wall, sending a sheet of water with it. In less than a second, Serena and half the room were soaked. She had to get behind the door and push in order to close it against the raging storm.

  Matt.

  Surely he’d been able to take shelter somewhere, she hoped. But the way the wind was whipping the rain around, she knew standing under a tree, what few there were in these hills, wouldn’t keep him dry in the least, would only increase his chances of getting struck by lightening.

  She closed her eyes and offered a quick prayer.

  After changing into a dry dress, she paced before the fireplace, willing Matt to come through the door. A few minutes later she cocked her head to one side and listened. Something was different. The rain sounded…strange. Harder. The tone and rhythm of the storm had changed. A full minute later, she realized what she was hearing. Hail.

  Serena groaned and cursed herself. Why did she have to pick tonight for a bath? Why had she teased Matt, making him think she was going to undress in front of him? If she’d just asked him to turn his back, he’d be inside right now instead of out there Lord knew where, being pounded by thousands of ice balls.

  The next twenty minutes were sheer torture. She’d never known it to hail so long. Oh, Matt.

  As abruptly as it had hit, the storm stopped. After the hail, there was nothing. No sound, no movement, no rain, no wind. Serena grabbed the lantern and was out the door in a flash, then came to an abrupt halt, her feet shifting on the uneven ground. She stared, stunned. A blanket of white covered the ground. From pea-sized to plum-sized, hailstones lay in ankle-deep piles. She’d never seen such a thing!

  In the few seconds she spent staring, she felt the cold of the icy balls seep through her moccasins.

  “Matt!” she cried, holding the lantern aloft. “Matt! Where are you?”

  No answer.

  “Matt! Matt!”

  Out of sheer habit, her feet carried her across the clearing and down the path toward the creek. She kept calling his name and tried desperately to hold back her panic. It wouldn’t do to lose her head now. Matt needed her.

  The lantern cast eerie shadows among the brush and scrub. Serena’s own shadow bobbed and stretched across the hail-covered path. With every step she took, hailstones shifted beneath her feet, making walking difficult.

  The creek was swollen and raging from the sudden downpour. There was no sign of Matt. Why had she thought he’d be here? He could be anywhere. My God! He could have fallen in the water and been washed downstream! “Matt!”

  Her foot struck something beneath the cover of white. The hail shifted along a five-foot line out in front of her. Scraping the hail away, she uncovered one of Matt’s crutches. Her mouth went dry. “Matt!”

  She swung the lantern around, searching frantically for any sign of him. The roar from the angry creek drowned out her cry. Stumbling, she ran along the water’s edge, ignoring the tingling warning of approaching numbness in her toes.

  A long dark shape stretched out along the ground ahead. A rock? A log? In her haste to reach it she tripped on a hidden rock and thrust one hand out to catch herself as she tried desperately to hang on to the lantern.

  She made it to the dark shape. It was Matt. She’d found him, thank God. She dropped to her knees beside him, ignoring the sharp stab of icy hail beneath her. He was freezing cold, soaked to the bone, and unconscious. With her heart thundering, Serena rolled him over and cradled his head in her lap, crying his name over and over.

  He came to with a groan and tried to raise his head, then let it fall back to her lap. “Rena?”

  “It’s me, Matt. Are you all right?” she asked, her nerves screaming in protest. He didn’t need this. On top of everything else, he didn’t need an illness or another injury. And it was her fault.

  “I…lost a crutch…then I…fell. Must have…hit my head.” His teeth were chattering so hard she could barely understand him. And he was shivering. “C-cold.”

  “You’ve got to get up, Matt. We’ve got to get you inside where it’s warm.”

  He struggled to sit up. “Wa-warm?”

  “Yes, it’s warm in the house. Let me help you up.”

  She scrambled around underneath the hail and found the other crutch that had gotten him this far. When he was finally balanced precariously on one crutch, she quickly retrieved the one she’d tripped over and got it beneath his other arm before he could fall.

  For the first few shaky steps, she had to help him maneuver the crutches while she held the lantern out in front of him. He was finally able to propel himself, but the going was extremely slow. Twice she had to thrust herself under his arm when a crutch slipped on the hail.

  It was the longest trip of Serena’s life, not to mention Matt’s, she was sure. By the time they reached the adobe, Matt could do no more than lean on his crutches and shake. She had no idea what held him upright. She left him propped against the table while she tore through the room. Somehow she managed to drag the brass tub, still half full of water, to one side. She drew Matt’s mattress near the hearth, tossed more wood on the fire and gathered every blanket in the room.

  When she stripped Matt’s cold wet clothes from him he made no protest. She was sure he was too cold to speak. His skin felt like ice, his face was gray and haggard, and his lips held a blue tinge. He was shivering uncontrollably.

  She wrapped him in a blanket and got him onto the mattress. Then she began to rub him briskly all over. The only sounds in the room were the crackling fire, her gasping breath, and Matt’s chattering teeth.

  He was so cold. Too cold to help himself. She had to do something. She wished now that she hadn’t broken that bottle of whiskey; maybe it would have helped warm him. She tried to get hot coffee down him, but most of it ran down his neck.

  There was something she could do, though. She could warm him with her own heat. But if he ever found out—well, he just wouldn’t find out, that was all. She certainly wasn’t going to tell him, and he was out now, so he’d never know the difference, except he’d be warm.

  The hem of her dress was cold and wet from trailing across the hail. The bodice and skirt, too, from her fall near the creek. Her nightgown and robe lay in a rain-drenched puddle where she had left them by the door. That left her chemise. How its ruffled hem remained dry when the lace trim on her drawers was damp was beyond her.

  She stripped off everything but her chemise and, without giving herself time to think, crawled beneath Matt’s blanket and curled up against his side.

  She gasped at the contact with his frigid skin. With a deep breath, she pressed herself against his length.

  Even as cold as he was, touching him felt so good. For this brief time, she could hold him. She could run her hand across his chest and arms and feel the strength of him. She could study his face at length. If she wanted, she could even place a kiss on those beautiful, cold lips.

  She wanted.

  And she did. She savored every moment of it, vowing to leave his side as soon as he warmed.

  Gradually, his muscles relaxed and his teeth stopped chattering. Only an occasional shudder disturbed him now, and his skin began to warm to her touch.

  Serena breathed easier, then easier still. The night had taken its toll on her. The hot bath, followed by her anxiety and near panic, then the struggle getting Matt home, had sapped her strength. Now that sh
e knew he was going to be all right, she could relax.

  Matt opened his eyes. The sun wasn’t up yet, but the room was getting light. The fire in the hearth was no more than glowing embers. He closed his eyes again. In that fuzzy stage of near-sleep, he rolled away from the meager warmth of the fireplace and turned toward that other, softer warmth pressed against his side. His restless hand roamed over soft fabric covering softer flesh, around curves, down valleys, up hills, until he cupped a firm, full breast.

  He was dreaming. He had to be dreaming. He hadn’t felt anything so good since— Don’t think about it, his mind warned, and he didn’t. He was asleep anyway, and this wasn’t real, so why not just enjoy?

  He ran his thumb back and forth and felt the nipple pucker and harden beneath some soft, thin fabric that barely separated his fingers from the flesh beneath. His body responded with a hardening of its own. Heat, fire swept through him. Blood rushed to his loins. He groaned with satisfaction. It felt so damned good to respond to a woman. Why had he denied himself this pleasure for so long?

  Still befuddled by sleep, he wondered vaguely whose breast filled his hand. Where had she come from? What was she doing in his bed? Then he stopped caring. He bent and buried his face between the soft firm breasts, letting his hand wander down narrow ribs past a narrower waist to gently flaring hips. The woman’s low moan of pleasure raised his temperature another notch.

  With his lips, he trailed a path across a lace-covered collarbone until he found the bare flesh of her throat. There he dipped his tongue like a hummingbird stealing nectar from a flower and felt her pulse race. Sweet. She smelled so sweet, tasted so sweet.

  She moved beneath him and his heart thundered. He trailed his hand to her firm belly and couldn’t remember the last time he felt so alive. Every nerve in his body tingled with anticipation.

  Mouth and tongue took a downward path until he buried his face in the deep valley between her breasts again. Lips and teeth nipped up one mound at a time, stopping at the crest of each to tease the turgid buds and suck on their sweetness…such sweetness, even through the fabric.