His patience paid off. A tall, thin form stepped from behind a tree and raced toward the house. Smythe tore down the stairs, ignoring the questions the women fired at him. He stopped by the door, caught his breath, then bent down and slipped his knife from the sheath in his boot.
Armed, he opened the door a crack and slipped into the night.
Again the shadow separated itself from the small shed near the back of the house and walked slowly forward. Smythe waited until the last minute, then jumped from his hiding place by the corner of the porch.
“Don’t move!”
The man he’d wrestled to the ground stammered, “I…I w-won’t.”
Grabbing the intruder by the shirtfront, Smythe hauled him to his feet. At least the man’s size wasn’t a threat. He was rail thin.
“Who are you, and what in the hell do you think you’re doing?” Smythe kept the tip of his blade beneath the man’s upturned chin.
A flare of light blinded him. He cursed whoever shoved the lantern near his face, but didn’t ease his hold on the man.
“Samuel?” a soft worried voice called out.
“Don’t tell me,” Davidson said, although his brain had already figured out what was going on. “You’re sneaking up to the house to see Amy.”
In the lamplight, he could see the thin man was actually a boy. Probably seventeen or eighteen, judging by the lack of muscle and height and the random stubble on his chin.
“Davidson, please.” Pearl was standing beside him, resting her hand on his elbow. “Put the knife away.”
“Burnbaum?” He already knew the answer to his question, but wanted it confirmed.
“Yes.”
He nodded, let go of the boy, then bent to sheathe his knife.
“You’d best come on inside, Samuel,” Pearl urged. “Amy can tell us what you’re doing here.”
“And who’s been a guest in your attic,” Smythe mumbled beneath his breath. Hah! As if he couldn’t fit that particular piece of the puzzle in place.
Amy’s head snapped up, and for a heartbeat, he wondered if Pearl really knew all she should about the young women she’d taken into her heart and her home.
Pearl quickly banished that thought with her next statement. “Your folks can’t hold out forever, Samuel.”
Amy’s eyes filled with tears.
Samuel walked over to her and wrapped her in his arms. “If I could provide for you on my own…”
“Come on in now.” Pearl ushered them inside.
Smythe looked at the younger man’s shoulders and judged them to be broad enough to have some strength in them. His hands would tell the truth.
“Let me see your hands.”
Amy looked as if she wanted to stop him, but Pearl urged the young man, “Do as he asks.”
Samuel let go of Amy and held his hands out to Smythe.
“Turn them over.”
The palms were riddled with heavy calluses and scars. Smythe had no doubt that the boy was used to hard work. So then what held him back from striking out on his own?
Before he could ask, Amy explained. “Samuel’s father promised him a small inheritance if he stayed on at home for another year.”
Smythe narrowed his gaze at the young couple. “Does his father know how he feels about you?”
Amy flushed. “Yes, but—”
Smythe didn’t have to be told. He knew without hearing Amy’s tearful confession that Burnbaum’s father did not think Amy was good enough for his eldest son.
While Pearl bustled behind him, coaxing the embers in the cookstove to life, Smythe motioned for everyone gathered to sit down, hoping he could add his input and help the young couple.
In the soft lantern light, he learned of Samuel’s love for Amy. He didn’t doubt for a moment that the young man’s love was returned.
“Don’t you have any money of your own saved up?” It would certainly give them a better start than running away without anything in their pockets.
He nodded. “Some, but my Amy deserves more than the hard life she’s been accustomed to.” He quickly looked at Pearl, who was pouring steaming cups of tea for them. “No offense intended, Miss Pearl.”
Her smile, illuminated by the soft glow of the lantern, went straight to Smythe’s heart. “I know you meant her life before she came here.”
Samuel nodded. “Her father—”
Amy’s fingertips to his lips silenced the young man. She shook her head. “No need to go back there. Let it go.”
He grabbed her hand and held it to his chest. “I’m going to track the bastard down and—”
Pearl touched her hand to the young man’s shoulder. “Will do nothing.”
The boy visibly stiffened beneath her hand. Smythe understood and planned to seek vengeance once the gossip back home died down. He hadn’t killed his brother, and he intended to uncover the truth about who did. When he had, he’d track the bastard down and exact revenge. How could he condemn the young man for wanting to do the same for the woman he loved?
Samuel surged to his feet. “He deserves a taste of what he did to his own flesh and blood!”
Smythe nodded. “But you were speaking of your future with Amy.” He hoped her name would redirect the young man’s anger. “You aren’t afraid of hard work, are you?”
Amy laughed. “The first time I saw him, he was helping Seamus Flaherty build his new barn.” The look in her eyes softened as she smiled at her young man.
Satisfied the conversation had been diverted from talk of revenge, Smythe asked, “Was it you who opened the fence and let Pearl’s chickens loose?”
If the young man’s flush of guilt didn’t convince him, his next words did. “I didn’t mean for all of them to get out. I only wanted to cause a diversion so Amy could meet me down by the pond.”
Smythe nodded. “It is a nice night for a walk in the moonlight.” Pearl bent her head, but he saw the blush she tried to hide from him. The next time he kissed her, she wouldn’t draw back from him in fear. He would teach her to embrace the passion smoldering between them and let it burn wild and free.
She glanced up at him, and a sharp ache of longing twisted through him. His first lesson would begin soon…very soon.
Chapter Eighteen
Amy and Samuel wandered outside to say their goodbyes, and the other girls had gone upstairs to bed. Pearl and Davidson were alone in the semi-dark parlor, the faint light from the kitchen keeping the room from total darkness.
Unable to resist the temptation of the man standing so quietly beside her, Pearl reached for his hand. The calluses there reassured her that he was not afraid of hard work either.
Running a ranch was hard work.
Would he keep his word to her? Would he wait until she finally found the missing deed, or would he grow tired and stake his claim to her land, or worse, leave?
Her head ached from the questions whirling in her tired brain. Her body ached, and she was beyond exhausted.
Davidson tensed beside her, his hand gripping hers more firmly. Before she could think to refuse, she was back in his arms, the warmth of his big, hard body enveloping hers, offering her what? Comfort? Understanding? Passion?
Confusion made her temples pound. Then she ceased to think at all as his lips traced a path from beneath her jaw along her neck, making her shiver with each press of his firm lips to her cool skin. The tip of his tongue found the hollow that dipped between her collarbones. He tasted her, and her legs went numb.
His tongue traced the line of the slender bone. Wet heat cooled when he pulled away, drawing another shiver from her. He bent his head again, and she tensed in anticipation, wondering if it would be his tongue or his mouth that would continue the gentle assault.
How could his warm, firm lips and talented tongue make her feel so many different things? She was by turns blazing hot, then icy cold, a quaking, shivering mass of wanton desire for the man holding her close to his heart.
God help her, she was moving beyond the point where sh
e had control over her desires. What would he do next? Place his lips on her throat again, or use his tongue on her? The wait tortured her mind.
He nipped her.
Shock arrowed through her as desire flared to life low in her belly. She wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him closer, forcing him to raise his head up.
Their eyes met, his dark with desire.
“Davidson?”
“Don’t be afraid of me.”
She fought to control her gasping breaths. “I’m not.” Pinpricks of awareness broke out all over her body. She feared she’d go up in flames if he didn’t quench the desire she’d had no idea lived inside of her all of these years, just waiting for the right man to release it.
“I have no right. Damnation!” His lips found hers again. He sipped gently at first; coming back again and again for the soft, sweet tasting of her lips she’d grown to anticipate.
With a groan that sounded like he was in agony, he increased the pressure of his kisses, drawing more confusing and powerful urges from her.
She couldn’t stop her hips from pressing against him. He rewarded her with his bold questing tongue slicking along the outline of her lips.
Of their own accord, her hips started undulating, and she was powerless to stop them.
In answer, Davidson’s tongue dipped into her mouth for a more thorough tasting.
The feeling of being dragged under swamped her. Afraid, she broke the kiss. “Davidson?”
His dark eyes glittering, his expression fierce, he lifted her into his arms and carried her over to the sofa, where he gently laid her down, belying the fierce look in his eyes and his harsh, jerky movements from moments before.
She lay there shaking from the sensations he’d awakened in her. “What is wrong with me?” Why couldn’t she understand what was happening? Could it be stopped? Would Doc have a tonic that could fix it?
“Not a damned thing.”
She thought he would lie down with her and take her in his arms, but he looked over his shoulder instead. “Is anything wrong?”
His laugh was harsh. “More than you realize.”
Unsure of what he expected of her and less sure of what she wanted from him, she pushed herself up until she was sitting with her back against the curved frame of the sofa.
“Mr. Smythe,” she heard Amy call out. “Is everything all right?”
“Just fine.” He paused. “Pearl and I were just talking quietly.”
Liar. But she didn’t dare correct him while Amy stood in the doorway, looking tousled, flushed and glowing. Pearl wondered if her face had the same glow? Was her hair slipping from its pins, too?
Amy turned and walked toward the stairs. “Good night, then.”
Unease skittered through Pearl as her passion cooled and her head cleared. Folding her arms beneath her breasts, she gathered her scattered wits and fisted her hands, ready to protect herself. Dear Lord, where had the ache low in her belly come from?
She’d never felt like this before, but she’d seen a man’s anger before, and Davidson’s oozed from every pore in his big body. Though afraid of what he might say, she whispered, “Won’t you tell me what’s wrong?”
He walked over the sofa and sat down. “I thought you said you’d been married.”
Were they back to that? She nodded. What did that have to do with the tingling, overwhelming sensations she was feeling?
“And I’m assuming your husband stole more than just a kiss or two from your sweet lips.”
Hah. If only he knew. Uncertainty swept up from the tips of her toes, swirling in her aching belly and up to her throat, tightening it until she’d swear a lump resided there. She tried to swallow past it, but couldn’t.
The first tear fell.
“He forced you.”
She hadn’t had to say the words. Relieved, she nodded. She’d never given herself freely to the man her father had sold her in marriage to. He’d never given her the chance, but took what he wanted as his God-given right.
“No wonder you don’t understand the first thing about passion.”
“Is that what people in Boston call it?” Her heart hurt and her temples began to pound. “Out here they call it—”
He reached out with one hand and covered her mouth while the other wiped the tears from her cheeks, careful of the injured one. “Do not demean yourself.”
She shook her head, mumbling, “Why can’t you talk like a normal person and just say what the hell you mean?”
His snorted, but was it in laughter or disbelief? Shame filled her. “Do you think I’m proud of the fact that I struggled to teach myself to read in between serving drinks and fending off unwanted attentions from my husband’s customers and doctoring the girls who worked for him?”
His hands stilled, and he cupped the back of her head in his hand, drawing her close. “I am not laughing at you. I was laughing at the way you accused me of not sounding normal. I’ve been accused of that same thing before by a woman I lov—cared for.”
Hurt flashed in his eyes, then disappeared. His lips met hers, tentatively at first and then more demanding. Plundering, drawing sensation after sensation from her. She clutched at his arms, pulling him off balance until he fell on top of her.
Easing them both back onto the sofa cushion, she marveled at the way his body felt. He covered her from head to toe and then some. Their lips were even, but he curved his back up slightly so he could fit his arms beneath her, drawing her closer. She could feel the heat of him pulsing against her stomach.
She moaned, wanting more. Much more.
But he held her without moving, staring down at her.
Confused, she asked, “Don’t you still want me?” she whispered, afraid of his answer.
“More than I thought possible.”
As if she couldn’t figure that out all on her own, she said, “Then why are you just staring at me?”
* * *
God, the woman had no idea what she was doing to him. Setting him on fire with her tentative touches and passionate response to his kisses. She might have been forced to lie beneath her husband while the bastard took what he wanted, but she was still innocent to the ways a man and woman could find pleasure, and the joy they could find in each other’s arms.
“I haven’t changed my mind,” he reassured her.
Her soft sigh delighted him, and he knew she wanted him just as badly as he ached for her.
“Do you trust me not to hurt you, Pearl?”
Small, slender, work-roughened hands cupped the sides of his face. “Teach me how to feel.”
He had his answer. How could he refuse her soft request? He bent his head and kissed her. His lips insistent, he didn’t stop until he heard her breath catch and felt her pressing against him.
He gentled the kiss then, trailed his lips along the strong line of her jaw, the gentle curve of her throat, with swift soft questing kisses. He couldn’t help himself; he let his tongue explore the hollow of her throat where her pulse pounded in rhythm with his own.
She relaxed beneath him, trusting him. Reveling in this trust, he held her tighter, drawing in the soft scent of roses. He felt oddly at peace.
“Let me hold you, Pearl.”
“But what if the girls find us?”
“We’re both early risers, we’ll be up before them.”
“I don’t know…”
“I thought you trusted me,” he rasped.
“I do.”
“Then let me hold you while you sleep.”
He waited until he heard her sigh. “All right.”
Sliding onto his side, he drew her back against him, cradling her as if they were two spoons in a drawer. He pressed a kiss to her temple and closed his eyes.
With Pearl resting in the protective cradle of his arms, he drifted to sleep.
He’d come west to find his future, and by the grace of God, maybe he had.
Chapter Nineteen
There were no words. How could Pearl describe the fe
elings Davidson brought to life and the gift of keeping his word not to hurt her, but to protect her and hold her against his heart while they slept?
She let him draw her close to him, snug in the shelter of his arms. Strong arms, strong hands. Protective arms, gentle hands.
His breathing evened out until she knew he’d fallen asleep at last. Hugging newfound feelings and sensations tightly to her heart; she replayed the last hour in her mind.
True to his word, Davidson had taught her to trust and that a man could be giving. Give. That was the key word. And she’d soaked up the pleasure of lying in his arms without fear.
Davidson tightened his arm about her and she knew she’d never forget his gift to her. For the rest of her life, she’d hold the wonder of it in her heart.
She squeezed her eyes tight and remembered the heat of his body against her back. She knew that he wanted more from her, but he hadn’t pushed and she delighted in the fact that he had honored his word.
He shifted in his sleep and she shivered. She’d never thought to lie next to another man. He stiffened. “Pearl? Are you cold?” He stroked a hand from her shoulder down to the curve of her elbow and back again.
His words whispered against her ear caused another shiver of desire to shake her. Embarrassed to the bone, she confessed, “I’m sorry I woke you.”
He eased her head down onto his shoulder, pressing a kiss to her temple. “Don’t be. I shouldn’t be sleeping,” he admitted. “I should be keeping watch over you.”
When he would have eased away from her, she turned into his arms so she faced him and pressed a kiss to his throat.
“Pearl, I need to take a look outside.”
“I guess I’ll go upstairs to bed.” She moved away from him, cold now that she no longer lay in the warmth of his embrace.
Before she’d made it to the doorway, he’d grabbed her and spun her back to face him. “What is wrong with you?”
“You tell me!” she demanded, her temper flaring to life. “What did I do wrong? Was it the way I kissed you?”
He dropped his forehead to hers. “I’d forgotten how innocent you truly are.”
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