Bushedwhacked Groom (22 page)

Jessica smiled and Cory chuckled. Molly kicked Lucky in the shin and he pinched her behind.

“Ma, how’s Mrs. Hicks?” Molly asked, while glower
ing at Lucky.

“She still has a very bad cough but is slowly mend
ing.” Jessica nodded to Lucky. “Well, we’ll leave you two
alone.”

“No,” Molly cried.
“
I mean, why does everyone want
to leave us alone?”

“‘Cause you’re newlyweds, sis,” Cory teased back.

Desperately, Molly tried to conjure up an avenue of escape. “Well, I need to speak with Cory,” she
told Jessica, “about—about Sheriff Hackett’s visit while
you were gone.”

“0h, no,” fretted Jessica. “Has there been another
robbery?”

Molly glanced sharply at Lucky. “Lucky’ll fill you in.”

She felt intensely relieved when instead of protest
ing, he stepped forward. “Sure, I will. Later, sweetheart.”
Quickly, he kissed her lips.

Fleeing inside with her brother, Molly caught a con
vulsive breath, then turned to see Cory regarding her
with curiosity and amusement. “What?” she demanded.

“Molly, you’re red as an apple and quivering like a
leaf in a storm.”

“Oh, shut up.”

“Did you bite off more than you can chew with this
cowboy?”

“Leave him out of it.”

Cory held up his hands. “Sure, sis, whatever you say.
Guess a new bride is entitled to be grumpy.”

Molly ground her teeth. “Look, I want to talk to you
about the sheriff’s visit.”

“Yeah?”

“Are you boys involved in those robberies?” As he
hesitated, she added, “And don’t give me that hokum
about Dirty Dick Dempsey doing it. I read all about his being killed in a shoot-out in
Denver
.”

Cory chuckled. “Sis, haven’t you learned by now not
to believe everything you read in dime novels?”

“Quit stalling.”

Cory gave a shrug. “You know, Molly, you won’t talk
about your life, so why should I tell you anything about
ours?”

Molly gripped his arm. “Because I’m family.”

“Right. Sure.”

“All right,” she conceded wearily. “Maybe I do care
more about you than the others. But the truth is, all of
you are my brothers. So, are you four involved in the
holdups or not?”

He shook his head. “Nope. The boys and I suspect
the Hicks boys are doing it, but Sheriff Hackett’s too
busy mooning over Dulcie Hicks to see the truth. And
maybe she’s putting a bug in his ear about us boys to
protect her own, and ‘cause of her rivalry with
Grandma and Aunt Dumpling.”

Molly nodded. “Still, are you certain none of you are
involved?”

“Molly, I give you my word.”

That Molly did believe. “All right, then, I feel better.”
Biting her lip, she added, “Unless the other three are in
volved and haven’t told you.”

That remark left Cory with a troubled frown on his
face, a look that worried his younger sister.

Chapter Twenty-two

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“What are we doing back in Reklaw Gorge, señor?”
Sanchez asked.

At midday, Lucky had again fled the ranch—and
Molly—to blow off some steam. Although she’d agreed
to let him go riding, she’d sent Sanchez along to keep an eye on him. Lucky had also brought along a large
workhorse laden with tools.

During the ride to the canyon, he’d chuckled at the memory of his bride’s face when he’d left the house,
how relieved she’d appeared to get rid of him. His plan to torment her until she sent him packing was working
like a charm. Only problem was, it was working
too
well—he was becoming as hot and bothered as she
was. He needed to hedge his bets and make plans to
escape this time-travel purgatory, just in case the se
duction route became too perilous.

As, indeed, it already was.

Leading the entourage down into the canyon, Lucky explained to Sanchez, “You and me are gonna start up a little project, buddy.”

“
Sí,
señor. Is that why we’re carrying all these tools?” Sanchez gestured toward the hammers, mallets and other implements tied to the Belgian shire.

“Yep. Follow me now.”

Lucky led Sanchez over to the windbreak of pines, where the two men dismounted. He showed him the bundles of debris he’d hidden earlier that morning.

Sanchez crossed himself. “Señor, it’s the wreckage of the haunted
coche
. The one used by Señorita Lila Lullaby and her
palomas disgracias
.”

Lucky chuckled at the term “disgraced doves.” “Sure is. And you and me are gonna reassemble it.”

Sanchez was backing away, wide-eyed. “Señor, no. It’s bad luck to touch the haunted
coche
.”

“Well, hombre, your luck is definitely gonna be bad if you don’t help me,” Lucky fired back. “I’m aimin’ to get out of here, and this here bucket of bolts is gonna be my vehicle. You and me are gonna patch it back together up there on that shelf of dike.” He pointed upward at a stone ledge.

“Up there?” Sanchez was wide-eyed. “We must haul these heaps of trash up the mountainside?”

“Yep. And no tattling to Miss Molly either, you understand?”

Although Sanchez was regarding Lucky as if he’d
lost his mind, he dutifully nodded.
“
Sí,
señor
.”

“Good. Now let’s get started.”

Sanchez crossed himself again, then began helping
Lucky tie the bundles to the horses.

***

That afternoon, Molly sat up in the hayloft, petting
Jezebel’s newly born kittens and wondering what the hell her bridegroom was up to now. All morning, the
memories of his brash intimacies, his kisses, his bold
teasing, had been driving her wild.

Why did he avoid her like bad news one day, then
try to tear her clothes off the next? And why wasn’t she
reacting as she should be? She’d gleefully taken the
lead before—why should she protest now, when he’d
finally responded in kind? After all, wasn’t this what
she’d wanted all along, for them to get together and
make a baby?

She just hadn’t expected to become so flustered, so
confused—so
aroused
—by the process. Lucky’s turning the tables on her had her feeling totally rattled, and
vulnerable whenever he touched her. She’d actually
been grateful to see him leave for his ride—although
she had a hunch he’d be back soon.

“Well, hello, Molly love, what are you doing up
here?”

Speaking of the devil! Molly gasped and turned to
see Lucky perched at the top of the ladder, sunshine
gleaming in his blond hair and glinting in his blue eyes. Her cheeks flushed at the realization that he had
her cornered, alone, again.

She nervously cleared her throat. “Hi. You gave me a
start. I didn’t hear you coming up the ladder.”

He hopped up into the hay to join her. “Are you hid
ing from me?”

She rolled her eyes. “Jezebel finally had her kittens.”

“Oh, wow.” He gazed at the tiny creatures suckling at their mother. “Four of them, eh?”

She nodded. “Yes, one black, one white, one gray—and one calico, like her. They’re only a few hours old.”

“How’d you know they were here?”

“
I didn’t. But I got worried when Jez didn’t show up
for her milk this morning, and had one heck of a time
finding her. Why is it mama cats always hide their kit
tens?”

“Afraid they’ll be stolen, I guess.”

“Yeah, reckon so.”

As the gray kitten mewled, he chuckled. “They look
kind of like drowned rats, don’t they?”

“They’ll get pretty soon enough.” She touched the
tiny black one. “This one’s my favorite.”

“Black for the mischief in your soul?”

“Black for the mischief in his
daddy’s
soul,” she cor
rected. “Jezebel’s a calico, in case you hadn’t noticed.”

Lucky reached out to stroke her flushed cheek. “And
where do you suppose the daddy is now?”

An unaccountable thrill swept over Molly; he just
looked so damn sexy, staring at her that way. She
cleared her throat. “Oh, I’m sure he’s out prowling
around, like most tomcats do.”

He curled an arm around her waist. “So he just got
her in a family way and left her high and dry, eh?”

“Not high and dry. She has her kittens.”

Their gazes locked, rife with meaning. “Is that all she
wants from him?” he asked huskily.

Molly was on the verge of replying when Lucky drew
her closer and kissed her, this time tenderly, without anger. Molly couldn’t help herself—she moaned and curled her arms around his neck, loving the way his
mouth seduced her and his hard chest crushed her
breasts. He groaned, his kiss growing more urgent but
still unbearably sweet. Even the scent of the hay
seemed stirring, erotic.

“Nice discussion we’re having, darlin’,” he mur
mured after a moment, nuzzling her neck. “Mamas and babies—and making ‘em.”

His words were driving her crazy, sweeping her with
dizzying chills. “Lucky, please—”

She tried to protest, but he pushed her down into
the hay beneath him, his torrid gaze smoldering into hers. That look threatened to suck her in and devour
her, and panic seized her. Then he grinned and
reached down with his hand, his skilled fingers slowly
stroking up her bare leg, tormenting her.

She grabbed his hand. “Please, stop—
”

His hand remained firmly clenched on her bare
thigh. “You really want me to stop, darlin’? Aren’t you
the one always talking about having a young ‘un? And
driving me crazy with your sexy talk of doin’ it?”

“Really? Crazy?” she asked breathlessly.

“Totally out of my mind.” He leaned closer and drew
his tongue teasingly over her cheek. “Well, sugar, hasn’t
it occurred to you that we gotta
make
that baby first in
order to have it?”

Molly was spinning, drowning in want. Desperately
she asked,
“
If—if we make that baby, will you leave me
afterward, just like Jezebel’s tomcat did?”

That barb hit home. Lucky cursed and rolled off her. After giving her one last searing look, he left her.

Molly expected to feel relieved. She didn’t expect to start bawling about it
. . .

***

Luc
ky kicked himself as he strode away from the barn. The sight of Molly petting those sweet little kittens had
practically unraveled him. The familial scene had
been tender, poignant, emotionally loaded. Every
fiber of Lucky’s being had been focused on possessing
Molly, making love to her, giving her his seed.

All the things he
shouldn’t
be doing.

Then, when she’d asked if he would get her preg
nant and leave her, shame had brought him up short.
That was what his own bastard of a father had done to
his mother. If not for the coward’s betrayal, perhaps his
mom never would have sunk into wild ways and got
ten killed on a lonely
Colorado
highway.

He felt guilty for toying with Molly, guilty for going
back to the canyon, guilty for being a male with hor
mones. Yet, as much as her question had smarted,
thank God she had asked it, saving him from making a
disastrous mistake.

He’d been so close to claiming her sweet body. So
close to catching himself in his own trap. So close to
trusting again, to regaining his faith, to caring for her. If
he had succumbed . . . Well, he knew he could never
be the type of lowlife who would give her his child,
then leave her. It had hurt him to realize she thought he
might, though to be honest, how could he blame her?

Although he felt a certain sympathy for Molly, he’d also known from the beginning what she wanted from
him—his name and his seed. Now he found himself
wanting more with her, something lasting and gen
uine. He couldn’t expect her to return his feelings. He
had to protect himself or he’d get hurt again as he had
with Misti.

He had to get control of himself before Molly took
control of
him.
After all, he was the one who was ex
perienced and worldly; she was the one who was innocent and naive as far as sex was concerned—or so
she claimed. On that one battleground he had to out
smart her. Surely one more near seduction would be
enough to convince her to cry uncle and give him an annulment.

If he didn’t cry uncle first.