Whirlwind Wedding (13 page)

She pulled away, causing him to blink, to make a grab for his self-control. Like waking out of a stupor, he slowly came to his senses. Her breathing was as ragged as his. Her lips were swollen and red, her velvety skin marked by his beard.

“You are so damn sweet you make my teeth ache,” he rasped.

She looked astonished. No one had ever looked astonished after kissing him. The trust in her eyes was blinding, and tugged hard at his conscience.

“
That's
why I can't stay in the house, Catherine. I'd compromise you and your reputation for sure.”

She stared at him with such wonder, such naked desire, that he felt his heart sink. If she only knew why he was really here.

The reminder cleared his head as fast as smelling salts. He released her, trying to ignore the wounded look on her face. “That shouldn't have happened. I beg your pardon.”

“No!” Protest replaced the desire in her eyes. “I wanted you to.”

“I overstepped.” Stunned by the force of his reaction to her, he had to struggle to make his voice cold. Detached. “It won't happen again.”

Her eyes welled with tears. “Jericho, please.”

He couldn't get involved with her. And he couldn't bear her tears. He glanced down, looking for his crutch through a haze of self-loathing. He stepped on the stick's end to tip it up so he could grab it.

Catherine bent and passed it to him with a visibly trembling hand.

He straightened, staring at her until she moved back.

“Are you leaving?” She wrapped her arms around her waist. “You're in no condition.”

“I could go to Davis Lee's or Riley's, but until we know where the McDougals are, I don't want you and Andrew here by yourselves. If anyone tries to get in, they'll have to go through me.”

She reached for him. “Jericho—”

“No.” His voice cracked the still air. “Go on, Catherine. Go on, now.”

Her eyes bright with hurt, she lifted her chin and walked out.

Cursing himself, he sagged against the ladder, the wood biting into his shoulders, his backside. In the wake of her touch, the surrender of her body against his, he had forgotten himself. But he couldn't do it again.

He closed his eyes. He had to stay away from her. Not only because of her brother, but because his time here could easily become about more than that. It could become all about her.

S
he was still fuming as she prepared supper that evening for Jericho's cousins.

“Overstepped,” she muttered, lifting the lid of her Dutch oven and stabbing a fork into the roast. Finding the meat tender, she lifted the heavy pot and set it inside the fireplace to keep warm. “Begging my pardon.”

She didn't want Lieutenant Jericho Blue to beg her pardon. She wanted him to kiss her again.

She hefted another pot, this one full of water, from its place on the hot brick and hung it over the fire to boil.

All day, she had wavered between utter humiliation and anger. And underneath, like a clear cool stream, had been wonder. She had responded to his kiss. Not with fear but with want. And she did want him, even now.

Completely surprising and welcome was her body's reawakening, as if her senses had broken free of steel tethers. Jericho's kiss, gentle at first, then demanding, had set off a tingle under her skin that she felt all these hours later. She had responded to him. Hope that her body would answer a man's in such a way had been relinquished in the last months.

She shouldn't set such store in a single kiss, but the joy, the
relief
that she hadn't frozen in fear, whirled through her, making her long for more of him. She had never felt that for a man, even before the attack. Jericho Blue had given her that.

But he didn't want her. Why? Because he was thinking of her reputation? Or was she too naive for him? Physically he had wanted her; she
knew
that. Did it matter why he had pushed her away? He'd been plain enough about it.

And she had been mortified. Still was. So she would keep a good distance, though it would help if she didn't have to work on his hand every day. She would do the best she could. Putting him—that kiss—out of her mind would be difficult, but she had to. It wouldn't do for him to see how he affected her.

She checked the potatoes on the stove and realized she had a little time before the water boiled.

Jericho had kept to himself all afternoon. She didn't know what he'd been doing, but when he limped into view and headed for the pump, his face looked drawn and exhausted. Her heart softened a bit. She turned away and eyed the table. Her mother had had a piece fitted for the middle to make it longer, and Catherine slid the sides apart to slip the wood into place. Along with their four chairs she would need the bench tucked away in the narrow hallway where she kept a small supply of coal.

Sister Clem and Sister Marguerite had packed a crate of china for Catherine's move to Texas. The plates and teacups had been donated to the convent, only to gather dust in a lower room there. Catherine had hoped to show her mother the dainty rosebud pattern before Evelyn died.

She pushed away a wisp of hair and added dried corn to the pot in the fireplace. Steam from the boiling water misted her face. She puffed out a breath, blotting her damp forehead with the back of her hand. Catherine missed having a woman
to talk to. Sister Clem would know what to do about Jericho. Or if Mother were here, Catherine could ask her advice. The visit she'd made to her mother's grave after he had run her out of the barn was a poor substitute for talking to the woman in person.

Reeling from his sensual assault, Catherine had felt anew the overwhelming loss of her mother as she'd reached the cemetery behind town. So much had happened in the weeks since her arrival that she hadn't been able to spend the time she wanted there, but maybe that was good. Maybe if she didn't dwell on Evelyn's death, Andrew wouldn't, either.

The clatter of wagon wheels broke into her thoughts. Taking off her apron, she smoothed her hair and checked her chignon. Her cheeks were flushed from working over the fireplace and stove. Part of her wished she hadn't invited all of the Holts to dinner tonight, but it would save her from being alone with Jericho.

Andrew came out of his room with his hair combed down and wearing a clean shirt as she had asked. Catherine smiled as they walked out to the porch. Jericho stood next to the pump, running a cloth across the back of his neck. He wore his boots. A fawn-colored shirt molded his broad shoulders and flat belly, tucked into the waist of his dark blue trousers. His gaze flickered to hers briefly before settling on Riley and Susannah and their baby daughter.

Davis Lee rode up on horseback, calling a greeting as he dismounted. Riley braked the wagon and climbed down, taking the baby from his wife. Andrew jumped off the porch and walked out to them.

“Hi, Miz Holt.” He smiled at Susannah, looking more at ease than Catherine had ever seen him. “Hi, Mr. Holt. Want me to take Lorelai?”

“Sure.” Riley carefully placed the little girl in Andrew's arms.

Davis Lee reached into the back of the wagon and brought out a towel-covered basket. “Susannah, I'll get this for you.”

Andrew held the baby carefully, starting toward the house. Catherine smiled as Lorelai's fat legs pumped the air.

“How old is she?” she asked as Riley and Susannah neared.

“Three months.” Susannah let go of her husband's hand and stepped up on the porch. “Thanks so much for the invitation. May I help you with anything?”

“I think everything's ready.” Catherine smiled at the petite blonde, not missing the way Riley's gaze lingered on her.

Leaning on his crutch, Jericho brought up the rear, greeting his cousins warmly. He and Davis Lee hung back to let the others go inside first.

Catherine's gaze caught Jericho's, then slid away. She leaned over the baby, touching her pale gold curls. “She's a darling.”

“She takes after her uncle,” Davis Lee said proudly.

“Yeah,” Riley said. “When she's putting up a fuss.”

Catherine smiled at their bantering, beckoning everyone inside. The men took off their hats and hung them on the wall hooks inside the door.

“Jericho, you're looking well.” Susannah smiled up at him.

He ran a hand over his beard, looking self-conscious, but his lips curved. “I sure feel a lot better than I did the last time you were here.”

Holding the baby, Andrew sat on the end of the bench Catherine had scooted to the table. Jericho eased up behind her brother, looking down at the pair with an inscrutable expression on his face.

Davis Lee stepped around the table to Catherine's side. He tapped the basket he'd brought in. “I think these are Susannah's biscuits,” he whispered conspiratorially.

She smiled. “Put them on the table. I think there's some honey left.”

Laughter lit his blue eyes. “Are you sure you want these?”

“Davis Lee Holt,” Susannah said indignantly. “I'll have you know my biscuits turned out this time.”

He lifted an eyebrow at Riley.

His brother laughed. “I think they did.”

The sheriff grinned, leaning across Catherine to set the basket on the table.

She started at his nearness, but didn't move away. He smelled nice, like soap and water and sunshine. With his dark hair and blue eyes, he was quite handsome. He had broad shoulders and a lean waist. And even though his hands were large she'd seen his gentleness with his niece.

Catherine felt Jericho's gaze on her and turned away. “Everyone have a seat.”

With much scuttling and laughing, they all gathered round the table. Catherine chose the chair nearest the stove. Davis Lee pulled it out for her, then sat beside her at the end of the table. Jericho chose the opposite end, his gaze resting on her so frequently that her nerves knotted.

All through the talk at dinner, he made quiet conversation. He seemed to enjoy having his family around, but Catherine sensed an impatience in him. Due to frustration over his injuries or to what had happened between the two of them in the barn? She slammed the door on any thoughts of that kiss. Even though she couldn't completely ignore him, she felt more at ease once the meal ended.

As she rose to help clear the table, Susannah shooed everyone out to the porch, sending the drowsy baby with Riley.

Catherine stacked dishes and carried them to the sink, glancing out at the men. Jericho had angled his chair toward the doorway so that he could see into the house. Davis Lee sat to his left with the same view.

But they weren't paying attention to her or Susannah. They
spoke in low tones, including Riley in the conversation when he joined them. Catherine saw Andrew hovering behind Davis Lee, but her brother made no attempt to join the men. All of them wore dark, serious expressions.

“It's so nice that you have a pump indoors for your sink.”

Catherine pulled her attention from the men and smiled at Susannah. “Mother wrote to me how Father tried to give her a modern kitchen, but still I was surprised to see it.”

While the other woman pumped water into the sink, Catherine picked up the pot of water she'd left warming on the stove. The men's quiet voices drew her gaze again.

Jericho now held the baby. She nestled in the crook of his injured arm, while Riley stood nearby. Light from the lamp on the windowsill played across Jericho's face and broad shoulders, painting the baby in gold light. She grabbed his finger with her tiny hands and he smiled with a tenderness that made Catherine blink. Her breath caught in her chest and she forced her gaze away. She poured hot water into the sink to mix with the cold.

Susannah scooped a handful of soap from an open crock. “How are you getting along?”

“Very well.” She scraped the plates clean and passed them to be washed. “Thank you for asking.”

“It seems you've hardly had a moment's peace since you arrived. First your mother's passing, then Jericho ending up here.”

Catherine had no comment about her patient. “Sometimes I go to the cemetery to talk to my mother. Thank you again for seeing she had a proper burial. I'd still like to repay you for that.”

“Please don't. We were honored to do it. She was a kind lady.”

Catherine thought back to the last time she'd seen her mother. Evelyn's face had been unlined, her blue eyes brimming with tears as she left her daughter in the care of the nuns. “Andrew tells me he attended your charm school.”

“Yes.” Susannah smiled fondly. “I enjoyed getting to know him. He was quiet, but he attended every class.”

Every class? “He never missed and said he forgot, or that he had to be somewhere else?”

“No.” Sympathy shadowed Susannah's blue eyes. “Your mother was very ill. I think it weighed on him.”

“Yes, I'm sure it did.” Both she and Andrew had lost Evelyn, but in truth the loss was one Catherine had felt for years. Her brother had only now come to experience it.

Susannah glanced briefly at Andrew. “Are the two of you having trouble adjusting to each other?”

“I think we're both feeling our way,” Catherine admitted. “I don't exactly know what to do with a twelve-year-old boy.”

“If you want to talk, I'm happy to listen. I don't claim to know twelve-year-old boys, either, but I did check on him frequently during your mother's illness and just before you arrived.”

“Thank you.” Catherine took the last teacup from the other woman, wiping it dry with a cloth.

Susannah dunked a plate into the water. “You certainly seem to take everything in stride. I was completely out of my element when I came to Whirlwind.”

“Really?” The blonde appeared as much a part of the rugged land as her husband did. “You seem so at ease.”

Susannah laughed. “Riley did everything he could to run me off.”

Catherine's eyes widened. “Why would he do that?”

“He was afraid for me to live here.”

“But why?”

“He felt it was too dangerous for a woman from the city. Outlaws, snakes and all that.” She waved a dismissive hand. “I told him St. Louis has its own share of dangers, but he was hard to sway. His first wife was killed during a dust storm.”

Catherine couldn't imagine Riley being married to anyone other than Susannah. “And now what does he think?”

“He's getting better, but only because he was forced.”

“Oh?”

She sighed softly, telling Catherine the story of how her brother had sent her to Whirlwind under the assumption that Riley wanted to marry her. “He didn't want anything of the sort.”

“Then how…?”

Susannah smiled. “I don't know. It took him a while to realize that I meant to stay. When he finally got it through his thick skull, I was head over heels for him.”

Warmed by her new friendship, Catherine said, “I like it here, too. I feel at home.”

“I'm glad. You've certainly been a blessing to our family, though I imagine you're worn out from taking care of your brother and Jericho.”

“He doesn't need constant care like he did at first.” She took the last plate from the other woman and dried it carefully.

“I take it you're talking about Jericho.”

“Oh, yes.” Catherine laughed self-consciously. “Sorry.”

Susannah glanced back at the men. “Is he well enough to move out? He's more than welcome at the ranch.”

“He talked about that.” Why did the thought of Jericho leaving put an ache in her heart? She would be glad to have her house back, she thought defiantly. “But he says he doesn't want to leave us by ourselves until the outlaws are located.”

“That's a good idea.”

“He's sleeping on the porch.” She didn't think the other woman would gossip, but Catherine wanted to be sure the living arrangements were clear.

“Yes, I saw his bedroll.” Susannah paused, searching Catherine's face. “It's none of my business, but things seem tense between you two.”

Her cheeks heated even though there was no way the other woman could know about that kiss. “I think he's frustrated that he's not coming along faster.”

“Men. They want it all right now, don't they?”

Catherine had no idea, but she murmured agreeably.