Keegan's Lady (42 page)

"Oh, my," she whispered. "That was—astounding."

He laughed low in his chest, the jerk of his broad shoulders shaking her clear to her toes. She realized she had melted over him like a pat of butter on a flapjack. "You're right. It was astounding."

As he set her away from him, he kept a firm grip on her arms. "Are you all right?"

Caitlin gazed up at him, her senses slowly orienting themselves. Her eyes shifted to his mouth, which was tipped into what could only be termed a very satisfied grin. Ace Keegan was dangerous, she realized. More dangerous than she'd ever dreamed. "Yes, I'm fine," she lied.

The truth was, she feared she might never feel truly all right again.

After that, at least once every day, and sometimes far more frequently, Ace would catch her unawares someplace in the house, whereupon he anchored her to the spot and pressed a sensual assault. Kissing her neck. Nibbling lightly on her ear. Whispering sweet nothings. He'd told her once that he knew his way around a woman's body, and Caitlin realized he hadn't lied. He knew exactly how and where to kiss her, finding all the most sensitive places and teasing them with a tantalizing relentlessness. It took all her concentration to keep her head clear and to resist the melting sensations.

But resist them, she did. By remembering another man, and another assault. Those memories alone were enough to make her quake with dread. One of these times, when she least expected it, Ace's ardor would find her struggling beneath him in the locked master bedroom, her screams stifled by one of his large hands.

That never happened. Instead, just when she felt absolutely certain he was so aroused he wouldn't stop, he always moved away. Sometimes he did so with his jaw clenched in obvious frustration, but he moved away all the same, his brown eyes filled with twinkling amusement, whether at her or himself, she was never sure.

What truly began to alarm Caitlin about those sensual parries was that eventually she stopped feeling breathlessly frightened by them and started to enjoy the tingling feelings he elicited within her. It was nothing earthshaking, just little urges to let her head droop sideways so he might have better access to the curve of her neck, to lean against him so she might absorb the hard strength of his body, to draw his hands from their resting place at her waist and pull his arms around her.

She had to be going absolutely mad to feel such inclinations.

When those traitorous urges came upon her, she could usually chase them away by conjuring up her awful memories. No matter how gently Ace touched her, she couldn't bear the thought of having a man use her like that again.

Caitlin started to feel as if she were perched on an emotional seesaw. Up and down, her emotions went, keeping her off balance, sometimes making her feel as if her heart was soaring, other times as if her stomach had dropped to the floor and lay quivering at her feet.

She hated Ace for toying with her feelings so mercilessly. She absolutely despised him for it. She said those words to herself at least a dozen times each day. And then he would walk into the house and do something so unexpected, so incredibly, impossibly sweet, that her heart ached.

One memorable, sunny afternoon while she was busy in the kitchen, Ace returned from a trip to town. As always, she recognized the odd shuffle of his footsteps when he entered the house, and knew it was he without even turning from the stove. Giving the stew she was simmering a final stir with a long-handled wooden spoon, she set the utensil aside and stepped to the archway between the kitchen and living room to call a greeting. When she clapped eyes on her husband, the greeting died in her throat.

Was this Ace, or some stranger who had sneaked in uninvited? Gone were his jet-black shirt and trousers. He stood before her dressed from head to toe in what looked to be brand-new clothing, the blue jeans still sporting fold creases above the knee, the light blue chambray work shirt so stiff with starch, it fairly crackled when he moved. Cocked at the usual jaunty angle atop his dark head was a new, camel-brown Stetson.

"Ace?" she queried, unable to conceal her incredulity.

"It's me." He glanced down at himself with a rueful expression. After taking a swipe at one trouser leg, he looked back up at her, a question shining in his eyes. "Well, what do you think?"

Caitlin didn't know. He looked extremely handsome in the new clothes, of course. Ace Keegan was so attractive, he could have worn just about anything and still drawn a woman's eye.

It was just that the outfit was so totally unlike what he usually wore. Caitlin had always suspected he favored satanic black because it gave him an intimidating air. A man who had a reputation with a gun was always some upstart's target, and looking fearful had probably kept Ace from being shot at more than once.

"You look very nice," she said hesitantly. "But why the change?"

He met her gaze, his hard mouth curving slightly.

"You have to swear you won't tell the boys. As far as they're to know, I just got a hair up my ass and bought new clothes."

Caitlin inclined her head slightly. "I won't tell them anything."

He drew the Stetson off, gave it a turn in his large, brown hands, then plopped it back on his head. "I guess it's sort of stupid, really."

Caitlin had never known Ace to do anything stupid.

She shot a glance at the gun he wore strapped low and always ready on his thigh. Without the black clothing, she feared that some young man looking to make himself a name might challenge Ace to a gunfight. Didn't he realize that by changing his attire, he might be inviting trouble?

"It's just that—" He broke off and gave a low, self-derisive chuckle. "Lucky and I—we, um, had ourselves a long talk. During the course of our conversation, it became absolutely clear that he isn't able to change his color. Since he can't, and his shedding is obviously going to continue, I decided maybe I ought to change my color. Black clothing isn't very practical around a yellow cat."

Caitlin felt as if he had slugged her right in the solar plexus. An awful, suffocating sensation grabbed hold of her throat. Her eyeballs started to throb with breathless-ness. She stared at him, unable to speak, unable to move.

He had done this because of Lucky? Most men would have tossed the shedding cat out of the house on its ear. Tears started to burn behind her eyelids. And then she started to shake. With a low cry, she darted past him and ran to the bedroom.

"Caitlin!"

She heard Ace following right on her heels. When she tried to slam the door closed, he shoved a boot past the doorjamb to stop her. Half blind with tears, she flung herself full length on the bed and buried her face in the pillow to stifle her sobs. She knew it was madness. But now that the tears had started coming, she couldn't for the life of her make them stop.

She felt the mattress sink under Ace's weight as he sat down beside her. A second later, one of his big, heavy hands settled at the center of her back.

Something within Caitlin, an awful, aching, cold something, seemed to break apart at his touch, the shards exploding outward to slice cruelly at her insides with razor-sharp points. His hands were so wonderful. So awfully, horribly wonderful. So warm and strong. So gentle, yet capable. Never once had he used them to bring her pain. Never once. And yet he was hurting her worse than anyone else ever had in her entire life.

By making her love him.

***

"What the hell's eating you?"

Joseph's question earned him a furious glare from Ace, who had entered the tack room of the barn in a frustrated rage and started throwing things around with a startling violence. "What the hell do you care? Just leave me alone!"

Never one to err on the side of caution, Joseph sauntered on into the tack room to lean his hip against a saddle that had been left on a sawhorse for future stirrup replacement. Folding his arms, he settled a somber gaze on Ace, his full mouth drawn into a grim, unrelenting line.

"If you weren't taking your foul temper out on all of us, I wouldn't care. Unfortunately, that isn't the case, and somebody's got to find out what's wrong. I've been elected."

"I haven't been taking my temper out on anyone!" Ace kicked a half-empty gunnysack out of his path. Grain went flying. The sight of it made him even madder. He gave the bag another kick, just for good measure. "Just get away from me. I mean it, Joseph. Right now, I'd just as soon stomp the hell out of you as look at you."

"Exactly," Joseph remarked, as if that said it all.

Ace shot him a warning glance. "Get off my back. I mean it, little brother. If you've got a bone to pick with me, now isn't the time."

Joseph hauled in a deep breath and slowly exhaled. "Ace, you've been acting like an ass for days. Snapping at all of us. Snarling whenever we ask you a simple question. If there's something needling you, get it taken care of. It isn't fair to take it out on us."

Even as angry as he was, Ace knew Joseph was right. That didn't make it any easier for him to swallow. Afraid he might do something stupid that he would keenly regret later, he upended a bucket and sat down on it. Propping his arms on his knees, he knotted and relaxed his fists, aching to smash them into something. He just didn't want it to be his brother's face.

"It's Caitlin, isn't it?"

Ace ground his teeth so hard, he heard the enamel on one molar grate. Glaring at the hay-strewn floor, he ignored the question. Joseph settled himself more comfortably against the saddle and crossed his feet.

"You know, big brother, trying to be patient is all fine and dandy. But a man only has so much, and then something has to give. I think you've run plumb out."

"Thank you so much for that illuminating observation."

Joseph chuckled. "Any time. I'm always here to tell you what you already know. The trouble is in making you face it. You can't go on like this. And neither can Caitlin."

"Go on like what?"

"Playing this stupid game of cat and mouse." He laughed again. "And, no, I didn't mean that as a pun."

Recalling Lucky's attack on his manhood, Ace found himself smiling slightly in spite of himself. After a long moment, he finally met his brother's gaze. "I'm at the end of my rope. I've done everything I can think of, and nothing I do seems to reach her. She's in there sobbing her heart out right now. So hard she can't even talk. And the worst of it is, I don't have a clue what I did to make her cry. You'd think I broke her heart, for Christ's sake, and all I did was buy myself new clothes!"

Joseph gave him a slow perusal. "Real nice duds. Why did you buy them? That's the question."

"Because of the goddamned cat. I got tired of its shedding. Wearing black is a bitch when you're around Lucky all the time."

Joseph arched an eyebrow. "And did you tell Caitlin your reason?"

"Yes. Whereupon she immediately started bawling. Jesus." Ace jerked off his hat and raked a hand through his hair. "That girl is driving me crazy, you know it? Nothing I do suits her. All that yardage I bought her? She stuck it in the closet, right along with the new clothes, and she's never so much as looked at any of it since." He sighed and leaned his head back. "I don't understand her. In all this time, she's never once ventured off the ranch. Not even to see her brother, and I know she'd love to. She won't even go into town with me. Every time I invite her, she makes up some excuse. It's as if she's hiding out here. As for how things are between us? I don't know what to do with her, Joseph. I just plain don't. No matter how hard I try, I can't make her happy."

Joseph seemed to ponder that. "Maybe it's just the opposite, Ace. Maybe everything you do suits her a little too well. You ever think about that?"

"How does that make sense?"

Joseph smiled. "You remember when I was a little kid and you were trying to teach me how to swim? You'd get out in the water and hold up your arms to me. 'Jump, Joseph!,' you'd say. 'I'll catch you! Come on. Don't be afraid.' And I'd stand up on that rock, so scared my knees were knocking, wanting to take the leap, yet hating you for trying to make me."

"What has that got to do with Caitlin?"

"Because you're trying to make her jump." Joseph looked deeply into Ace's eyes. "She's scared, big brother. Scared spitless. And there you are, holding out your arms, telling her to go ahead and take the leap, that if she'll just trust you enough to do it, you'll be there to catch her. It's an awful feeling, thinking about trusting someone that much. You have to risk everything. The tension builds up until you can't hardly stand it. You almost make yourself push off. Then at the last second, you lose your courage and run like hell."

Ace sighed. "Yeah, well, you've got that much right. She's running like hell."

"Do you remember how you finally got me into the water?"

"I grabbed you by an ankle and pulled you in."

Joseph pushed away from the saddle. He said nothing more, just turned and left the tack room. Ace sat there, staring at the empty doorway, his thoughts on the girl inside the house.

After a long while, Ace finally pushed to his feet. Maybe Joseph was right. Maybe he was trying to handle Caitlin all wrong. He had inalienable rights as her husband. How long did he plan to wait until he insisted she be a real wife to him?