Kendrick: Outlaw's Bride Part 25

She reached out a hand and touched his nipple, which immediately tightened into a hard bud. "It happens to you, too," she said in wonder. Her hands tangled in the black curls on his chest that arrowed downward. When she reached for the top b.u.t.ton on his jeans, he covered her hand with his.

"Have you ever seen a naked man?" he asked.

Patch blushed rosily. "No. But I'd like to."

Ethan stood and reached down a hand to Patch. "Let's do this together."

Patch stood slowly, aware that her b.r.e.a.s.t.s were bare and that she wore only a pair of pantalets. Ethan pulled her into his arms, and she couldn't believe how right it felt. His flesh was warm and the hair on his chest abraded her b.r.e.a.s.t.s, sensitizing her flesh. She felt Ethan's hands sliding into the back of her pantalets and tensed as he slid them down over her b.u.t.tocks. When she stepped out of them, she stood there in her shoes and gartered knee-length stockings, naked except for the remnants of her chemise.

Ethan reached up and pulled the last of the pins out of her hair so it flowed like golden silk down her back and over her shoulders.

"Your turn," he said.

"Take off your boots and socks," she said.

Ethan balanced on one foot, then the other, as he complied with her command. "Now what?"

"Come here."

Ethan took a barefooted step closer, wincing as the straw p.r.i.c.kled under his feet. He sucked in his stomach reflexively when Patch reached again for the b.u.t.tons on his jeans. He held his breath while she tugged one free and reached for the next. His jeans hung on his hipbones for a moment before she shoved them down.

He noticed she was looking into his eyes, rather than down at what she had exposed. He watched her swallow hard before she said, "Take them off."

He pushed his Levi's and long johns down and stepped out of them, kicking them out of his way. "All right, Patch. You can look now."

He saw the uncertainty in her eyes before she glanced down. She took her time looking. The longer she looked, the harder he got. He felt himself flushing with embarra.s.sment, but there wasn't a d.a.m.n thing he could do about it.

"Can I touch it?" she whispered.

"If you like," he croaked.

But it was the scar on his leg she touched, not that other part of him.

"It's ugly," Ethan said.

Patch shook her head. "No part of you is unpleasing to me." Then her hand traced its way upward to the part of him that made it very clear how he felt about her.

Soft, Patch thought. Smooth and warm. But hard too. She circled him with her hand and heard a wrenching groan. She released him immediately, but his hand caught her wrist and brought her hand back to cup him.

"Don't stop touching me. It feels good."

"When you groaned like that, I thought I'd done something wrong," she explained.

"It was good. Great," he amended. "Would you like me to touch you, too?"

Patch nodded shyly. She had her eyes lowered, so she saw his hand moving toward her. It took all the courage she had to wait for him to touch her there. His hand slid down her belly and through the dark curls at the apex of her thighs. He slowly pressed inward with a finger. She thought her knees would buckle then and there. She caught herself by grabbing his shoulders.

"Okay?" he asked.

She nodded jerkily.

"More?"

"Yes, please."

Ethan grinned. "You have lovely manners, young lady."

Patch laughed. "Why, thank you, kind sir."

Ethan made love to Patch with his hands, watching her face constantly to gauge her reactions. Her eyes were lambent, heavy-lidded, her mouth open, panting for breath, her skin flushed with pleasure.

"Ethan, I can't stand any more," she said at last.

Abruptly he let her go. She swayed and almost fell. He caught her and said, "Can you manage on your own for a minute?"

She felt the silly grin on her face. "I'll try."

He arranged the remnants of their clothing over the scratchy hay to make a more comfortable bed. Sunlight streamed in golden bars through the wooden slats of the barn. The air was warm and their bodies glistened with sweat. The outside world seemed far away, only cattle lowing in the distance and a horse munching hay in the corral beyond the wall.

They might have been alone on a desert isle. There was only each other, and this moment in time. Warm eyes. Shy smiles. Taut bodies. Muscles that flexed and tendons that bunched. Hardness. Softness. A single thrust. One sharp cry of pain, caught by another's kiss. Tenderness. Sighs of pleasure. Moans of wonder and delight. Groans of ecstasy. At last, heaven. And finally, panting breaths and sighs of repletion.

Patch snuggled close, her head nestled in Ethan's shoulder, her body aligned with his. She didn't want to leave this place, ever. She wanted to remember every sensation, even the pain, because it had been the first moment they were truly joined. She had given Ethan a special part of herself and taken part of him in return. She knew there were certain times of the month when a woman was more likely to conceive, and hoped this day was one of them.

Ethan held Patch tight against him, circling her slender body so he could feel the weight of her breast on his arm. He didn't want to leave this place, ever. He wanted to remember every sound, every sensation, because he knew it was going to be the last time he enjoyed them. He had been wrong to take Patch like this, without benefit of marriage. A lady-and Patch was one-deserved more. He hoped to h.e.l.l he hadn't gotten her pregnant.

"Ethan? What are you thinking?"

"This was a mistake, Patch."

Patch was in such a state of euphoria that even Ethan's flat tone of voice didn't penetrate at first. Then the gist of what he had said sank in. "We're not the first couple to antic.i.p.ate the wedding night."

"There isn't going to be any wedding night."

Patch pulled herself free of Ethan's hold and sat up. "I don't understand."

Ethan rose, pulled his long johns out of the pile of clothing under them, and began putting them on. Patch followed his lead, grabbing her pantalets and turning her back to him.

"I had no business making love to you," Ethan said. "I might be dead tomorrow. Or spend the rest of my life walking this town with a cloud of suspicion over my head. What I did this afternoon was selfish and stupid, and I'm sorry for it."

Patch whirled on him wearing pantalets and her half-laced chemise. "Where does that leave me? I gave myself to you because I love you. You knew that, Ethan. How can you just walk away like nothing happened?"

"It's because I love you that I'm walking away!" he snarled. "Don't you see? What kind of life could we have together?"

"A perfectly wonderful life. If one of us wasn't so intent on being a bean-headed jacka.s.s!"

"I refuse to argue with you, Patch." Ethan yanked on his pants and b.u.t.toned them up, then sat down to pull on his socks and boots. He was shoving his arms in his shirt before he looked at Patch again.

She held her bloodstained petticoat in her hand. Her eyes brimmed with tears. She closed them to shut him out, and a tear spilled onto her cheek. It slid slowly down her face until she caught it with her tongue.

"Patch?"

"I'm all right, Ethan," she said in a quiet voice. "I'm a big girl now. I can take care of myself." She found the opening on the petticoat and slipped it on. Her skirt followed over her head. She folded the corset into a tiny square and set it aside. With shaky hands she b.u.t.toned the remaining b.u.t.tons on her blouse, then tucked the torn ends into her skirt. She straightened the wrinkles as best she could, but her clothing looked like it had spent a night in bed with her, which, in a sense, it had.

"I'll be leaving for Montana tomorrow," she said.

Ethan stared at her with horrified eyes. "When did you make this decision?"

"It's obvious there's no reason for me to stay any longer. I came here to find you, to hold you to the promise you made seven years ago-"

"Eight."

"-eight years ago. You've just made it plain that you're never going to marry me. I might as well leave now and save myself the heartache of hanging around where I'm not wanted."

"Who says you're not wanted?" he retorted harshly.

Patch's eyes opened wide in feigned surprise. "Why, you did. Or was I mistaken in what I just heard?"

Ethan flushed. "Wanting you and deserving you are two completely different things. If I weren't accused of rape, if I weren't a hunted man, things would be different."

"Oh. Well, then, perhaps I will stay a little longer. There were definite signs today that Merielle may be able to remember something soon."

Ethan eyed Patch through narrowed eyes. He had the sneaking feeling he had just been manipulated by a master fisherman. She had wiggled the worm and he had taken the bait and she had reeled him right in.

"What's all this about Merielle regaining her memory?" he asked. "When did this happen?"

Patch's eyes lit with enthusiasm. "This afternoon on the picnic. Frank said Merielle was looking at him as though she really saw him. He also said that a week or so ago she remembered a time when they had been together in the past. Doesn't that sound encouraging?"

"Maybe. If Frank isn't reading more into what Merielle says and does than is actually there."

"Don't be a pessimist," Patch chided as she finger-combed her hair. "Merielle will remember. Just you wait and see."

Patch was completely dressed, but when she looked down at herself, she groaned in dismay. "Your mother and sister will take one look at me and know exactly what happened here."

Ethan grinned. "You look fetching to me."

Patch arched a brow. "You really want me to walk into the house looking like this?"

Ethan eyed her speculatively. Her hair hung in tangles over her shoulders, laced with pieces of hay. Her brow and chin held a glowing sheen of perspiration and pink patches where his whiskers had abraded her skin. Her lips were swollen from his kisses. Her blouse was ripped, her skirt was dirty, and she was holding a scrunched-up corset in her hand. "Maybe it would be better if I go first and make sure the coast is clear."

Ethan and Patch snuck out of the barn together and raced for the kitchen door.

"You wait here, and I'll go check Leah's bedroom. If it's empty, I'll open the window and you come around and climb in."

"A lady doesn't climb through-"

Ethan eyed Patch. "I don't see any lady. Just a well-loved woman."

"Oh, well, in that case, I'll be waiting under the window." Patch turned and marched around the side of the house. She ducked under Nell's window and met Ethan at the window to Leah's room. When he opened it, she reached up her hands and he pulled her inside.

"Hurry up and change," he whispered. "Ma heard me come in and she asked where you were."

"Tell her I'll be there in a minute," Patch whispered back. "Tell her-"

"Tell me what?"

Patch and Ethan stared thunderstruck at the elderly woman in the doorway.

Patch cleared her throat. "h.e.l.lo, Nell. I'll be with you as soon as I change."

Ethan's heart was thumping so hard in his chest he thought it was going to burst. He had no idea how his mother would react to this situation. The last thing he wanted to do was upset her when she was just beginning to recuperate. For some reason he felt like a small boy again, caught in an indiscretion. His mother had never laid a hand on him in all the years he was growing up. All it took was one disapproving look from her gray eyes, like the one he was receiving now, for him to feel remorse and pledge to reform.

It felt strange to receive her censure now as an adult, after all the missing years of growing up without it. But she was still his mother, and he still wanted her love and approval. Amazing how effective her method was.

She waited until he was seated across from her at the kitchen table with a cup of coffee in front of each of them before she spoke.

"Patch is a lovely woman."

"Yes, she is."

"Are you in love with her?"

"I care for her," he hedged.

"I see."

He waited for further questions, but they didn't come. "Aren't you going to ask me whether I intend to marry her?"

She sipped her coffee, making a slurping sound because it was still too hot to swallow. "All right. Are you going to marry her?"

Ethan smiled grimly. "In a simpler world, I would marry her and bless every day I had with her. But my life hasn't been simple for more years than I can count. I want you to understand why I can't marry her. Not now. Not yet."

Ethan waited for his mother's blessing, her sanction of his relationship with a young woman living in her house. He wanted her to say it was all right for him to make love to Patch Kendrick even though he couldn't-or wouldn't-marry her. It was asking a lot.

"You're my son and I love you. I also love Patch like a daughter. I don't want either of you hurt. Be wise, Ethan. Let your head rule your heart. At least for now."

"Are you telling me to leave her alone? I don't think I can."

"Then make an honest woman of her."

"I can't do that, either."

"Whatever the risks-"

"What if Trahern goes after her? He might, you know, if I married her. What if she's in the wrong place when that gunfighter wants a showdown? I can't take that chance, Ma!"

"All right, Ethan. You have to do what you think is best." She reached out a hand and smoothed his hair back from where it had fallen over his brow.

He took her hand and held it against his cheek. "I love you, Ma. And I miss Pa."