Caden's Vow (23 page)

“Goddamn fucking bitch.”

It was getting harder to move, harder to focus. Darkness was
bleeding over Caden’s face.
No!
It was a cry from
her heart. As futile as all the others. She shook her head, trying to dislodge
the blackness from the beauty. Caden was her one good thing and she wanted to
hold on to him, whisper his name with her last breath.

“Wake up!”

Dickens shook her. She knew he shook her because she could feel
her body’s disjointed motion, almost as if she was bobbing on waves. Her hand
flopped out. Pain lanced up her arm. She’d been cut. How odd—the world was black
yet she could still feel pain. She moved her hand. The pain intensified. Sharp.
The stray thought entered the void. There was something sharp by her hand.
Glass...a weapon.
Yes!

With the last of her strength, she slashed upward, using his
voice as a guide, striking for his eyes, those horrible, ugly eyes full of lust.
She hated the way men looked at her, hated the way
he
looked at her. It was only beautiful when Caden looked at her
because he never saw her as a piece of meat he was going to buy. Caden looked at
her as though she mattered.

Her hand connected with something soft, giving before slamming
up against something hard. There was a scream. Agony in her palm. Agony in the
scream. Agony in her heart. It was everywhere.

Dickens fell off her.

Run! Get up! Run!

The voice inside her screamed at her, but she couldn’t move,
the life choked from her. All she could do was lie there and wheeze, hoping to
get enough oxygen back inside so that her mind could function before Dickens
recovered.
Oh, dear God, let me recover first.

From the front door came an explosion of glass and splintered
wood. Maddie opened her eyes. For a second everything was too bright, too much,
but then she saw the silhouette of a man—broad-shouldered, lean-hipped, with an
arrogant tilt to the chin she’d recognize anywhere.

Caden.

She wanted to warn him about Dickens, out of sight on the other
side of the bed. Though her throat worked, she couldn’t make a sound. She heard
the soft glide of metal over leather.

“Maddie!”

She heard Dickens shift position.
No. No.
No.

She did the only thing she could think of. She just rolled
right off the bed. Dickens was on the floor. If God was in his heavens, she’d
land on him.

She did mostly, but she hit the floor, too, the wood slamming
into her ribs. She heard Caden swear, heard a shot ring past her ear, then a
thud.

Oh, God. Was that what a bullet sounded like when it hit
flesh?

She was wedged between Dickens and the bed, his shoulder
pressed against her back. She pushed for all she was worth, trying to get on top
of him, to block him. He elbowed her off. She grabbed his arm, her wrist
screaming a protest when he jerked.

“Fucking bitch! Get off me!”

She wasn’t getting off him. She was going to be all over him.
Screaming, clawing, doing whatever she had to. He was not going to kill
Caden.

She grabbed feebly for his gun and missed. She saw his hand
rise, the kitchen light gleaming off the butt as it came down toward her face.
She braced herself for the pain, but the blow never came. Dickens twisted away
from her, pulled her around in front of him, the full length of his body
pressing on hers. She wanted to heave.

“Don’t move,” Caden growled. She didn’t know if he was talking
to her or Dickens, but if it was to her, he needn’t have worried. Rolling off
the bed had taken the last bit of strength she had. She hurt all over and it was
hard to breathe through the constriction in her throat.

“Get back up on the bed, Maddie.”

Caden’s voice cut through the chaos like an anchor of calm. She
shook her head. A hand grabbed her hair, yanking painfully at the roots. Her
scream came out as a hoarse rasp.

“She moves, I’ll shoot her.”

“No, you won’t.”

“What makes you so damn sure?” Dickens asked.

“Because she knows where the deed to the claim is.”

“I don’t need her. I have you.”

She could hear that taunting smile in Caden’s voice, imagined
it on his face as he said, “But you’d never get me to tell you.”

She wanted to scream at him to shut up, this wasn’t the time to
be provoking. The man had a gun!

She slammed back with her elbow, hitting Dickens in the groin.
He gasped and bucked against her, his grip slipping just enough. She tore out of
his arms, getting up on her knees, jamming her foot back in his groin again just
for good measure, hoping he’d let go of the gun, but he didn’t. He kept it
trained on Caden. Caden, who sounded incredibly calm as he repeated, “Maddie.
Get up on the bed.”

Now she could see him, his image split in sections by the
strands of hair falling over her eyes. He was standing there, hands down, palms
back. He didn’t even have a gun.

She stood. Dickens’s hand wrapped around her ankle, clamping
like a vise. The gun in his hand was pointed directly at Caden.

“He wanted—”

“I know what he wanted.”

“He’s got—”

“I know what he’s got. Get up on the bed.”

“He’s got my foot.”

“Do what you gotta do.”

Maddie looked at Caden standing there so strong, so invincible,
but he was nothing against a bullet.

“There’s nothing she can do that’s faster than a bullet.”

“Who are you going to listen to, Maddie? Me or him?”

There was no question. “You.”

Dickens yanked on her leg, upsetting her balance. “Fat lot of
good that will do you. I’m the man with the gun.”

Yes, he was. A very big gun. If she went down, she could cover
him, lie on that gun, ruin the shot. She imagined the bullet tearing through her
abdomen. Her stomach rose. She imagined it slamming into Caden, and she lost her
supper, vomit splattering all over Dickens. Revulsion pulled him back, relaxed
his grip on her ankle. Maddie dived for the bed. She saw Caden twitch. Saw
Dickens bring up the gun. Just as she was about to throw herself back onto him,
she doubled over. Her stomach heaved again.

There was a wet
thwack
and then a
gunshot. By the time Maddie turned around, it was over. Dickens was lying on the
floor, a knife in his throat, making horrible gurgling noises, and Caden was
coming toward her. She could only stare at him.

“That was clever,” he said as he knelt beside Dickens.

Did he think she could vomit on command?

“I was imagining a bullet going through my stomach.”

He looked up. “I know what you were planning. It was there in
your eyes, and just for the record, if you’d done that, I’d have put you over my
knee every day for a week. When I tell you to do something in order to keep you
safe, Maddie, I expect it done.”

She looked at the knife sticking out of Dickens’s throat, at
the blood staining her pristine floor, the vomit on the man, herself, the bed.
She scrambled back when Caden reached for her.

“I’m a mess.”

“Maddie. Get the hell over here.”

She shook her head, grabbing the coverlet, bundling it up,
wiping at her face, wiping at her dress. She stared at the blood on her hands,
tiny little splatters. She’d come so close to losing everything. Her life.
Caden.

The shaking started without warning. With his hands on her
shoulders, Caden pushed her down on the bed. His fingers were gentle as he
unbuttoned her dress and pulled it off her shoulders. Leaning over to the
remaining bed stand, he took a pitcher and poured water into the basin, dipped a
cloth in it and wiped at her face.

He cupped some water in his hand and held it to her lips.
“Drink.”

He didn’t give her much choice. Holding the basin under her
chin, he ordered, “Spit.”

She swished the water around her mouth and did. She felt so
dirty. So used. So less than what she’d thought she was. There would always be
men like Dickens. Always be men that thought she was theirs for the picking.

The shaking wouldn’t stop. With ruthless efficiency, Caden
ripped the sheets from the bed and then he laid her down.

All she could get out of her throat was a hoarse “I’m
sorry.”

“No need to be sorry.” He straightened. “You got fresh sheets
somewhere?”

She shook her head. She only had the one set.

“Then we’ll make do.” He grabbed one of the sheets back up, the
bottom one the vomit hadn’t soaked through, and put it over her.

“You stay on that bed.”

She looked at him and grabbed his hand when he would have
turned away.

“Why are you here?”

“I heard you crying for me.”

She jumped and opened her mouth. He couldn’t mean right then.
He put his fingers across her lips.

“No pride. No arguing, Maddie. I missed the hell out of you,
and you don’t have to say it back, but I know you missed the hell out of me,
too. The plain truth is I couldn’t stay away.”

You gain your other half.

She caught his hand in hers and pressed a kiss to the palm,
tears pouring down her cheeks, seeping between his skin and hers, sealing them
together in a salty kiss.

“You all right?”

She nodded.

“I’m going to get this body out of here and then I’m going to
get some cool cloths for your throat. And then—” he brushed her hair out of her
face “—we’re going to talk.”

CHAPTER TWENTY

T
HE
TALK
HAD
had to wait. By the
time Caden got back with the doctor, her throat had been too swollen for speech.
The doctor prescribed bed rest and cold compresses. If truth be told, Maddie
thought Caden needed bed rest more than her. The man couldn’t stop touching her,
doing for her, worrying at her. Between him and Lucia, she’d had ice for her
throat, sheets for the bed, the floor scrubbed and nonstop fussing for two days.
Today she was ready to get out of bed.

Sliding off the bed, she stood for a second, checking her
steadiness. The room didn’t spin and her knees didn’t give out. She
felt...ready. Today was going to be a good day. With a smile, she donned her
work dress. She walked to the kitchen window, pulled the curtain back and
watched Precious chase a grasshopper, breathing deep of the faint scent of
cinnamon blending with the warmth of summer. The breeze brought the sounds of
town—wagons creaking as they meandered down the street, the distant laughter of
children and the fussing of parents.

Putting water in the basin, she donned her apron and started on
the few dishes left, her heart feeling lighter than it ever had. She looked
around her little house and kitchen and smiled. This was her home, carved out of
nothing by her own hand and her own effort. This was where she’d made her stand
against her past, against Dickens. This was where she’d found herself. This was
where she’d found her courage. And when Caden returned, this was where she
wanted to talk when he got back from Lucia’s with their supper. They’d let
things go too long, and the tension between them was thick enough to cut with a
knife.

She heard footsteps in the alley beside the house. Her heart
fluttered in her chest. Caden. She took a breath and straightened her hair,
smoothed her skirts. Pinched her cheeks.

Her heart skipped its usual beat as she watched Caden from the
back door, looking no less tall and no less impressive on his own two feet than
he did on horseback. Bending down, he pulled up a piece of grass and dragged it
in the dirt. Precious scampered over to explore the potential toy. He dropped it
in the dirt and straightened, switching the wicker basket with their supper to
his other hand, pausing when he saw her standing in the door.

Her heart stopped beating entirely as he walked toward her, his
hat shading his eyes. He stopped two feet in front of her. He didn’t smile, but
he took off his hat. She didn’t take it as a bad sign. If the emotions in him
were as strong as they were in her, a smile wasn’t possible.

“You sure you up to being out of bed, Maddie mine?”

His hair was wet. He’d obviously stopped to bathe at the pond
before getting supper. She liked that, too. She liked, she decided, everything
about this man. His temper, his gruff ways, his sense of fair play, his
tenderness, his passion and his patience. She found her smile. Taking a step
toward him, she took off her apron and let it fall to the ground.

“I’ve been waiting two days. Don’t you have a question to ask
me, Caden?”

He eyed her smile and then the apron.

“I thought I’d ease into it over the next month or so.”

“Why?”

His gaze fell to the bruises on her throat. “Because it’s been
two weeks since we’ve been together, two days since you were attacked and two
seconds since the last time I imagined making love to you.”

“You want me.”

He nodded. “Always. And right now, you’re looking mighty
fine.”

She put her hand on her hip and looked at him from under her
lashes. “I could look finer naked.”

He took a step toward her. She took one, too. One for her and
one for him. Equal. His head tilted to the side, studying her.

“No doubt about that.”

Her smile broadened. “I’ve got fresh sheets on the bed.”

“You don’t say.”

“So why don’t you ask me the question?”

“I’m afraid to.”

She arched her brows at him. “Caden Miller, afraid?”

“It’s been a long wait.”

“It was the best gift that anybody could ever give me.”

“Is that my answer?”

No, it wasn’t. She took the next two steps, and then another,
not stopping until her breasts pressed into his chest and her thighs grazed his.
“You can’t have an answer to a question you haven’t asked.”

“I can’t?”

“No. That would be an assumption.”

He didn’t say a word. She realized he truly was nervous. There
were lines of strain settled around his eyes and tension in his lips. She’d
thought he’d brushed off the incident with Dickens since violence was so much a
part of his life, but that wasn’t the case. She took the basket from his hand
and put it on the ground. “I’m sorry.”

His fingers grazed her cheek as he brushed her hair off her
face. “I don’t ever want to go through that again.”

“Then I guess you’ll have to keep me by your side.”

“Or something.”

She leaned into his hand. They’d been together every minute for
the past two days, but they hadn’t talked, too busy walking on eggshells in the
wake of the trauma to address what needed addressing. She couldn’t wait anymore.
“I’m sorry,” she said again.

“For what?

“For sending you away.”

“You needed it.”

But it wasn’t something
he
had
needed, or wanted. Leaving for him hadn’t been about finding something. It’d
been about waiting to find out when her discovering was over whether he was
going to be part of her choice.

She took his hat from his hand and dropped it on the ground
beside the basket. “You missed me.”

“Like I’d miss breathing.”

“But you stayed away.”

“You asked me to.” Because he understood her better than she
understood herself. What had she ever done to deserve him?

“Caden.”

“What?”

She took a step back and crooked her finger at him.

“Come here.”

“Don’t be calling me there, Maddie, if you’re not serious.”

She backed up another step. “Don’t be stalling if you are.”

He climbed the porch steps. Out of the corner of her eye, she
could see the townsfolk pausing at the end of the alley behind the mercantile.
They were curious, but she didn’t care. Caden didn’t stop until her breasts once
again touched his chest and her hips cuddled his and her skirts wrapped around
his legs.

She walked her fingers up his chest, stroked them over his
cheek, slipped them behind his neck. With steady pressure she pulled him down,
holding his gaze, letting him see her joy, her passion, letting him see
everything she’d so foolishly tried to hide from him before. But mostly she let
him see the love. When his lips were a hairbreadth from hers, when they were so
close her breath was his, she whispered, “Ask me your question, Caden.”

With a growl, he put his arms around her, lifting her off her
feet, into his arms where she belonged. “Maddie, do you want to be mine?”

The answer was so obvious. So easy. It flowed from her soul.
“With everything I am, with everything I have, with who I know I am, with who I
intend to be, I want to be yours, Caden Miller.”

His mouth crushed down on hers. No gentle kiss this. This was a
claiming, passionate, perfect kiss. Digging her nails into his nape, she pulled
herself deeper into the embrace, wrapping her legs around his hips as she kissed
him back just as wildly, just as passionately.

“Damn well took you long enough,” he muttered against her neck
as he walked them into the house.

“I had to know.”

“I know, but it fucking took you long enough.” Caden kicked the
door closed.

“How could you ever think you didn’t have value, Maddie?
Everybody else sees it.”

“It doesn’t matter what everybody else sees. I need to see it,
too.”

He tossed her on the bed and started stripping off his shirt.
With her foot she kicked the front door closed. They really needed a bigger
house.

“Get undressed or I’m going to take you right in your
skirts.”

She didn’t want that. She wanted to feel his skin against hers.
She wanted to taste him, to mark him, to love him. She was as wild as he. She
stripped in record time.

“Those, too,” he said as she stood in her pantaloons and
camisole. “I want to see all of you. Feel all of you.”

They were, as always, in perfect accord.

He stood there watching her shimmy out of her pantaloons, the
muscles of his chest clearly defined. His powerful shoulders blending to his
narrow waist and strong thighs. Her gaze dipped between, settling on his cock,
thick and straight. He cupped it in his hands and stroked it once or twice.
Tempting her.

“Come here.”

She did. Gliding across the room on happiness, dropping to her
knees before him, running her tongue over the head of his cock, taking that
sweetness for herself.

He groaned and braced his hand on the wall. “Damn, Maddie, I
missed you.”

“I know.”

His fingers threaded through her hair, tipping her gaze to his.
“You sure, Maddie?”

She looked up, rubbing her cheek against his cock, and smiled.
“A very wise woman told me that in a marriage you don’t lose yourself. You gain
your other half. I can’t go around anymore missing the most vital part of
me.”

“Is that why you’re doing this, because you’re lonely?”

“I’m doing this because I love you. You’re my partner, my
friend and my lover. And I need you.” Turning her head, she bit his thigh. “All
of you.”

“I like the last.”

“You like it all.”

And as she watched, Caden found his smile. His thumb stroked
over her lips, pulling them apart. “Yeah, I do.”

It only took a turn of her head to press her lips against his
cock. He moaned and cupped her skull in his palm, guiding her. Opening her
mouth, she accepted the gift, reveling in the feel of his hard shaft sliding
over her soft tongue. He pressed farther and she moaned, taking all he could
give, worshipping him, loving him, telling him with each caress everything she
felt inside.

“Goddamn, Maddie, I missed you.”

She knew that from the way he held her to him as if he couldn’t
get close enough. He didn’t back off and she didn’t make him. Whether he wanted
to admit it or not, her husband had a bit of anger in him. Waiting didn’t come
easily for a man like Caden. Waiting passively... She mentally shook her head.
That must have just about killed him.

“Goddamn, Maddie, I want to be gentle with you,” he moaned,
even as he pumped his cock harder and faster than was comfortable. She stroked
her hands down his hips, slipping her fingers between his thighs, cupping his
balls in her hands. He might want to be gentle, but he needed this right now.
She took all he gave as best she could with the pace he set, feeling his cock
get harder and harder, his balls drawing up tighter. She encouraged him, sliding
her fingers behind his balls, pushing up hard. She wanted him to come.

“Fuck.”

He came hot and sweet on her tongue, feeding her his
aggression, his pain, his love. And when it was over, he grabbed her by the
shoulders and dragged her up before kissing her passionately. “Goddamn, woman,
why did you let me do that?”

She wrapped her arms around his neck and hugged him, whispering
in his ear, “Because I know you, too, and it about killed you to give me what I
needed, and you’re just the teensiest bit mad that I needed it.”

“Not anymore.”

She nipped playfully at his chest. “Good.”

His fingers drifted down the side of her breast to her waist
before finding her pussy. She spread her legs, knowing what he’d find.

His eyes were dark with passion as he said, “You’re wet.”

She nodded and squirmed. “That was exciting.”

His brows rose. “You liked that?”

“Yes.”

“What part did you like?”

“The part where you were honest with me and trusted me to
handle what you needed to show.”

“I liked that, too.”

“I’m going to like this next part, too,” she stated, smiling up
at him, wiggling against his hand.

His smile broadened. “And what’s that?”

“You and me, coming together, as husband and wife.”

He slid two fingers inside her slowly and steadily, stretching
her deliciously. “It’s going to be sweet.”

He added a third, pressing it against her opening, letting her
contemplate the potential. “It’s going to be passionate.” He eased it in beside
the others. It was a tight fit. A perfect fit. “I’m going to make you burn, and
when you think you can’t stand it anymore, I’m going to make you explode.”

She moaned “Yes,” spreading her legs wider, inviting him
deeper. “Make me love it,” she gasped as he set a steady rhythm.

“Yes,” he hissed back, giving her what she wanted. What she
needed. And squeezing her pussy around his fingers, she gave him what he needed
back. Her acceptance. Her love.

“And when it’s over—” she stroked his cheek, seeing that tiny
bit of uncertainty he tried to hide inside him “—I’m going to be right here with
you. I won’t abandon you, either, Caden.”

His hand stilled. “Fuck.”

For a moment he didn’t move, just stared at her with those
beautiful eyes, and she worried she’d gone too far, bringing his fears into the
open. She could feel the tension welling inside him, emotional, sexual, and then
he crushed her to him, his mouth biting at hers.

“Goddamn, I love you.”

“I love you, too.” And this time when she said it, it was
right. There was no hesitation. No uncertainty, no little quiver of fear. This
time when she said it, it was an opening, a beginning.

He pulled back, his gaze searching hers as he settled between
her thighs. Cupping his face in her hands, she stroked her thumbs over his lips
the way he did to her, wrapping her legs around his hips, opening her body, her
heart and soul to his possession. Sighing as she joined him, savoring the bliss
before giving him that one other thing he needed. Her promise.