Peter quickly saddled his horse and led the animal out of the barn before mounting and taking off. She hurried in the barn and grabbed her own steed. No time for her to saddle, so she jumped on the animal’s back, pulling up her dress almost to her knees. She’d followed her brother many times on bareback and knew how to be both sneaky and quick.
The horse taking Peter to town galloped at a faster pace, and it was all she could do to keep him in sight. But once he entered town, he slowed the animal. When he reached the saloon he stopped, dismounted, and tied the animal. Straightening his clothes, he then ambled through the double swinging doors.
Her heart sank, creating an ache inside her chest. She needed to stop punishing herself like this. He was not the man for her. Would she ever learn?
Steering her animal around, she led it through back toward home at a slow pace. Tears gathered in her eyes, and this time she let them fall. Perhaps she wasn’t destined for a life of romance and passion. Her true calling must lie in being a doctor. She was a great physician and would continue her dream.
She frowned, and a sharp pain tugged at her heart. Too bad Peter had somehow become part of her dream, too.
The closer she came to home, the tighter her chest constricted. Once again, tears filled her eyes and ran down her cheeks. She’d never be able to convince Peter to change his lifestyle to make her happy. She really shouldn’t expect him to do that. After all, she wouldn’t stop being a doctor for any man. The realization didn’t help. It still hurt.
Near the road, a rustling in the trees caught her attention. She slowed her horse and peered into the shadows. Prickles ran down her spine.
She urged her horse faster. The plantation loomed ahead of her, and she relaxed. Riding at night dressed as a woman wore on her nerves, yet it’d never bothered her before as Doctor Copeland. Strange how living as a woman now suddenly made her more sensitive and unsure.
The neigh of a horse jarred her from her thoughts. Someone rode behind her.
She jerked her head around. Through the shadows, she detected a figure. The clouds moved away from the moon for a mere moment, and the form took on a familiar shape. She shouldn’t be frightened, yet her heart hammered against her ribs as if she’d been running for miles.
She stopped her horse. “Mr. Sterling? Is that you?”
He kicked his steed into a trot until he reached her side then pulled on the reins. Tipping his hat, he grinned. “Good evening, Cecilia. When I saw you ride by, I didn’t know if that was you. Didn’t think you’d be riding alone at this time of night.”
She swallowed hard. “Usually I don’t.” She didn’t dare tell him who she’d been following. “Do you need something?”
“No, but since I’m here, I might as well see you back to your house safely.”
She forced a chuckle. “There’s no need, Mr. Sterling. As you can see, I’m almost there.”
“Nonsense.” He reached over and patted her horse’s neck. “I’m here, and in all good conscience, I couldn’t let you ride alone.”
She gritted her teeth. That blasted man. Would he ever take no for an answer?
“So, my dear Cecilia. How has your new man been working out for you?”
She whipped her head in his direction and glared. “My new man is working just fine, thank you very much. My new man is the very reason I’ve been able to harvest my field.”
He shrugged. “But you could have done better. I could have helped you, you know.”
“Yes, I know. But you also wanted a marriage out of it, and I didn’t.”
He tsked. “Cecilia, my dear, can’t you see what’s right in front of your eyes?”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
They reached the barn, and he stopped the horses. He dismounted and then came to help her down.
“It means that Mr. Grayson is after the same thing I am.”
She lifted her eyebrows and laughed. “He wants to marry me? I highly doubt that.”
“I’m not certain he wants to exchange the actual vows, but he certainly wants the woman. I fear, my dear, he’ll try to turn you into used goods.”
She gasped and slapped his face, but he grabbed her hand. “How dare you insinuate—”
He pulled her hands behind her back and yanked her body closer to his. “Tell me he hasn’t kissed you. Tell me he hasn’t touched you improperly.”
Anger poured through her. She wasn’t about to allow him to talk to her in this manner. She wasn’t about to let him control her any longer, either!
Cecilia struggled against him, but his hold had her firmly in place. His breath grew heavy, and the scent of liquor touched her nose.
“Mr. Sterling, have you been drinking?”
He laughed.
“Let me go or I’ll scream.”
He chuckled again and buried his face in her neck. “The servants are asleep, and their bunkhouse is too far away for them to hear anything.”
Tears stung her eyes. The harder she thrashed her shoulders and kicked her feet, the tighter he held her. Remarkably, it didn’t faze him. He remained solid as a building.
“Mr. Sterling, you talk of Mr. Grayson as if he’s the rogue, but you, sir, are the skunk. Mr. Grayson would never treat me like this.”
He withdrew far enough to look into her face. His forehead creased, and his lips thinned. “There you’re wrong. If given the chance, that swine would do what I’ve accused him of and more.” His jaw hardened. “But I’m not going to give him that chance. If anyone ruins your pristine reputation, it’s going to be me.”
He clamped his mouth over hers. A sob tore from her throat, and she resisted his brutal kiss. He pressed harder. Salty blood coated her lip as a tiny sting pierced her skin.
Pulling away, he cackled. His voice echoed through the barn and sent chills up her spine. He lifted her and carried her to an empty stall and then threw her on the hay.
She scrambled to rise, but he covered her body with his. She clawed, kicked, and screamed, but he acted like he didn’t hear and didn’t feel. He grasped her hands and held them above her head then silenced her by covering her mouth with his.
Her heart pounded fierce, and a sickening dread settled in her stomach. She knew he would do the very thing he threatened.
Lifting his head, he gazed into her eyes. “If you’re a good girl, I’ll be gentle.”
“Get off me and leave. Now!”
He gathered both wrists in his large hand, and with the other, cupped her chin. “I promise you’ll be satisfied when it’s over.
“Please don’t,” she cried.
He fingered one of the buttons lined down her shirt before grabbing hold and ripping it open. She screamed and tossed beneath him, but his weight kept her down.
“If you touch me, I swear on my parents’ grave, I’ll kill you with my own hands.” Her voice cracked.
He kissed her nose. “No, you won’t. You’ll thank me when I’m finished.”
From behind them near the stall door, the floor creaked...then the cock of a pistol.
“She may not kill you, but I will,” came the harsh voice.
Cecilia sucked in a breath. Peter!
Heath cranked his head around and fell off her. She scrambled back against the wooden stall, clutching her torn shirt.
Peter stood glaring at Heath with a pistol pointed at the man’s heart.
Chapter Fifteen
Peter tightened his fingers around the butt of the gun, his itchy forefinger resting against the trigger. Never before had he wanted to shoot a man as badly as he did now. Unfortunately, the idiot was drunk, and Peter didn’t shoot men unless they were sober and could equal the challenge.
“You have to the count of five to get off Miss Cecilia’s property. Do you understand?”
Mr. Sterling bobbed his head as he scrambled to his feet. “Don’t shoot. I didn’t hurt the lady.”
“You would have if I hadn’t shown up when I did.” He motioned his head toward the barn door. “Now get out
before I accidentally pull the trigger.”
The other man took two slow steps away, then turned and stumbled out the barn. Peter holstered his weapon. He glanced at Cecilia huddled in the corner of the stall. Although dark, he could still detect unshed tears brimming in her eyes.
He held out his hand. “Come. Let’s go inside where you’ll be safe.”
She nodded. Her bottom lip trembled as she slipped her hand into his. The moment he pulled her to her feet, she fell into his arms and buried her face in his chest. Sobs racked her body as she clutched his shirt in her fists.
He kissed her forehead and tightened his arms around her. Pain sliced in his chest, and his own tears gathered. He couldn’t stand seeing her like this, feeling her shaking body against his. He really should have shot Mr. Sterling, regardless.
“Oh...Peter. He could have...could have...” Another loud cry escaped her.
“Shhh. It’s over now. You’re safe with me.”
She lifted her face and looked into his eyes. Her lips were swollen and her cheeks were wet, but she was still the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen.
“How did you know?” she asked.
“I didn’t know. I just returned home and brought back my horse when I stumbled upon you.”
“But...you went to the saloon.”
He creased his forehead. “How did you know that’s where I’d gone tonight?”
She lowered her eyes. “I followed you.”
He pulled her back into his arms and rested his chin on her head. A grin tugged on his lips, but this wasn’t the time to feel giddy. The only reason she would follow was because she cared.
“Yes, I visited the saloon, but nothing there held my interest. Not like what holds my interest here.”
She slipped her arms around his middle and cuddled closer. She felt so nice. So perfect in his arms. Silently, he cursed his wayward thoughts. He wasn’t any better than Mr. Sterling thinking like this when she was in a frightened state of mind.
“Let’s get you back to the house.”
She stayed by his side as he turned them toward the barn doors, but her legs quaked with each step. He swooped her into his arms, and she clung to him, burying her face in his neck.
He smiled. His heart wrenched with a building emotion, ready to burst at any moment. He must have fallen in love with her. What else could make him feel this way?
Yet, now wasn’t the time to confess. Of course, he had to think about this new feeling before he opened his mouth and inserted his boot, which he’d done before in situations like this. Although, he’d never had this stirring kind of flutter in his chest. One that confused him greatly and yet made him want to sing with happiness at the same time.
Yes. He definitely had some kind of loving feelings for this incredible woman. Question was...would he still feel this way about her if she wasn’t the mistress of Belle Grove? Or was he allowing himself to feel this way because he knew that winning her heart would win him the plantation?
Making his way through the house, silence greeted him. He didn’t think Anna-Mae would have retired for bed so soon, yet what else could it be? Not daring to ask, he kept silent until he delivered Cecilia to her room.
With her still clinging to him, he opened the door and carried her to the bed. He leaned to set her down, but her arms remained gripped tightly around his neck, so he sat with her on his lap.
Her crying had stopped, even her trembling had ceased, but now a different quake shimmered through her. Cecilia’s chest rose and fell quicker, her body hotter than before. The breaths against his neck turned. Silently, he cursed. Now was not the time!
“Cecilia.” His voice came out deep.
She didn’t answer but stayed curled in his lap with her face pressed against his neck. He stroked her back.
“I think we should get you ready for bed.” He bit back a groan. Why did he say it like that?
Her head moved slightly, but instead of pulling away, her lips brushed his skin. Warm tingles danced over him. Good grief! What was she doing?
He rubbed her back and then switched his hand to her arm, stroking up to her shoulder. “Cecilia, darlin’—”
She kissed his neck again, and this time, he couldn’t hold back the groan. Squeezing his eyes closed, he prayed for strength.
Her lips moved up his neck to his jaw, pressing soft kisses in their path. He needed to stop her. This was not the time. She definitely wasn’t thinking straight...but at least he would.
Peter withdrew and turned his head to tell her to stop, but as he opened his mouth, hers landed on his and silenced him. She bracketed his head with her hands as she moved her lips across his. His heart jumped to his throat as he wrapped her in his embrace and met her demanding kisses.
Once again, his conscience told him to stop. If he kept this up, she’d hate him for sure.
“Cecilia, darlin’,” he murmured in between kisses. “We shouldn’t do this. Not now.”
“Shhh—we can talk later.” Her voice was lower, more sensual than it should be. With her soft, compliant mouth on his...if he didn’t stop this soon—
With another groan, he pulled away, breaking the kiss. Her eyes fluttered open, and her swollen lips parted as she said his name again in a whisper.
He cupped her face and smiled. “Darlin’, I can’t. We can’t.”
She crinkled her forehead. “Why?”
“Because it’s not the right time. You must know how much I want you. I have for a while now.”
She nodded.
“Stopping is the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do. But I can’t do this to you so soon after you were attacked.” He leaned over and kissed her nose. “I want you to kiss me because you care about me, and have deep feelings for me—not because you are grateful I saved you from a snake like Sterling.” He paused, then asked, “Does that make sense?”
Her gaze lowered to his chest, and she licked her lips. A frown marred her expression, and he prayed he’d said the right words. He waited for her to speak, and after several seconds passed with nothing but their breaths returning to normal, he wondered if perhaps he had upset her again.
He slipped his knuckle under her chin and lifted her face until she looked at him. Pain etched in her eyes, tugging at his heart. “Darlin’, do you understand?”
“Yes.”
“Promise?”
She nodded. “I feel like such a fool for throwing myself at you.”
“Oh, no, my love.” He gathered her into his arms and pressed her to his chest. “Please don’t think that.” He kissed the side of her head. “Do you know how hard it was for me to stop? I’ve been dreaming of kissing you that way for so long, but I want to do it the right way.”
She lifted her head and met his gaze. “You speak as if kissing like that is in the near future.”
He grinned. “Isn’t it?”
Slowly, a smile stole across her face. “Perhaps.”
His heart burst, and the words he wanted to tell her danced on the end of his tongue. Did he really love her? Or was he just caught up in the moment?
No. He couldn’t tell her something he still doubted himself.
He kissed her lips then pulled away and climbed off the bed. A hint of a smile still graced her mouth. She was beautiful.
“I’ll see you in the morning.” He winked.
“Yes, you will.”
Grudgingly, he turned and walked out the door. Running his fingers through his hair, he shook his head. When had he become so gallant? And why did he like it so much?
GALVESTON HAD BORED Hank, so he moved farther west. The saloon he’d found in town was as popular as the ones in Galveston. It surprised him to see wealthy men seated at the poker table, willing to bet their money on high stakes. Hank grew eager to take it from them.
With Rose gone, it became easier to concentrate on the game. That woman distracted him, but more importantly, she upset him. Every time she opened her mouth to speak, she degraded him. He didn’t appreciate words li
ke that coming from a harlot.
True, he’d messed up his life. He’d gambled away most of his and Cecilia’s inheritance, but now he wanted a clean slate. He wanted to become the gentleman he’d been raised to be. Becoming that kind of man also came with wanting a different type of woman. No painted ladies.
Most of the evening passed with ease. Hank won a lot of the hands, and collected a nice pot of money. A few more weeks like tonight and he’d have the money to repay Mr. Grayson. Hank only prayed the man forgave him.
During one hand of poker, Hank received an eerie sensation, as if someone watched him. He shifted in his chair uncomfortably and glanced around the room. Over in the corner, shadowed by the piano, sat a familiar looking man. One he hadn’t seen since before his pa died.
Once the game ended, Hank excused himself and walked toward Zed Slater’s table. The Indian motioned for Hank to sit. Fear lodged in his throat. Would his pa’s friend turn him in?
Hank forced a smile. “What a surprise it is to see you, Mr. Slater.”
The Indian nodded. “I thought it time to make an appearance. Living as a hermit doesn’t suit me any longer.”
“So what are you doing this far from home?”
“Trying to find you.”
Hank gulped. His first instincts were correct. He was going to jail. “Wh-whatever for?”
The Indian who never cracked a smile grinned. “I’m certain you know the sheriff is looking for you?”
Hank hung his head. “Yes.”
“A man by the name of Peter Grayson is also looking for you.”
Groaning, Hank rubbed his throbbing forehead. “Figured as much.”
Zed leaned back in his chair and folded his arms. “Why are you hiding if you didn’t do anything wrong?”
Hank gasped and sat forward. “You don’t think I stabbed Mr. Grayson?”
The older man gave a one shoulder shrug. “I have my doubts.”
“Well, I didn’t do it. That man had already been stabbed when I walked out the back door of the saloon. I saw him lying there bleeding to death, and I decided to take back the money he’d won from me during the card game.”
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