Lips That Touch Mine (34 page)

She'd come to his saloon in hopes of
understanding him better. But she'd found herself last night. She'd
unlocked the cage. She was free—blessedly, wonderfully free.

She'd taken a lover.

And what a lover he was, with those artist's
hands that sculpted her body with a tender persuasion, and those
honey-brown eyes that drank her in with every glance.

She wanted more.

"I think I'm waking up," she said, her voice
muffled in his chest hair as she nibbled his small hard nipple with
her lips.

He traced her curves and slid his hand down
to cup her bottom. "I want to talk to you before I take you
home."

"Why talk?" she asked, brazenly sliding her
hand down his hard stomach and into the thatch of dark hair at his
groin.

"Ummm..." He nuzzled her ear and fit his
naked body against hers. "Who said anything about talking?"

She lifted her face and kissed his gorgeous
mouth, wanting more, wanting it all.

He gave her everything she wanted and more—so
much more that she couldn't contain her fierce desire for him. She
kissed his firm lips and stroked his hard, muscular body, sliding
her skin over his, pressing her breasts to his hungry mouth,
clamping her legs around his hips and taking him with her when she
cried out in a shattering climax.

They clung to each other, their skin damp,
their chests pounding, their breathing ragged.

"Stay with me tonight," she said, lifting her
hips and squeezing her legs around his thighs.

"I'll stay with you every night." He kissed
her, then gazed down with the heat of their lovemaking still in his
eyes. "Marry me."

She waited for his teasing wink to let her
know he was playing with her, but his eyes were earnest.

"Marry me, Claire."

"You're jesting."

"I'm serious. Dead serious. Seriously
serious."

She stared at him. "You can't be. I mean, we
don't need to marry. You can stay at my boardinghouse. Or I can
come here. No one has to know about our...private moments."

He brushed her hair off her face. "What if
the doctor was wrong? What if you can get pregnant?"

"I can't."

"Circumstances change. Doctors make
mistakes."

"The doctor wasn't wrong." Jack had taken her
to bed several times after her miscarriage and she had remained
barren. Still, a flicker of hope burned in her heart. What if the
doctor was wrong? What if someday she could have a child?

"It doesn't matter to me." Boyd cupped her
breast. "I want you."

"I want you too," she admitted, because she
did want him. She wanted him in her bed, in her life—but not as her
keeper. She had too much to lose if she married. She would lose her
property, her boardinghouse, and her independence. Her husband
would take ownership of everything, including her.

She couldn't lose her freedom again,
especially now that she had passion in her life.

"I can't," she said, and the light in his
eyes receded. She cupped his strong jaw and drew her thumb across
his chin.

"Your proposal is noble, Boyd, but
unnecessary. I want to spend my private time with you. This can be
the beginning for us, for all the exciting things we can share when
we're alone," she said. "No one needs to know about this."

"I'll know about it. And you deserve
better."

She slid her feet down the backs of his hard
calves and rubbed her toes against his heels. "What's better than
this?"

"Marriage. Honesty. Safety for you. Take my
name and let me keep you safe," he insisted. "No one in this town
would dare to harm my wife."

"Oh, Boyd, you can protect me, but you'll own
me. How safe is that?"

His head jerked back as if she'd slapped him,
a wounded look in his eyes.

"Don't be offended. Please," she said,
rubbing her palms over his back. "Taking you as my lover has set me
free. We can have this every night without being married."

She needed his touch, his kiss, the feel of
his naked body against hers. He was a tender, considerate, and
passionate lover. During the night, she'd fallen asleep in his arms
with a sense of contentment she'd never before experienced. But she
could make love with Boyd without locking herself back in a
cage.

He rolled off her and lay on his back, his
forearm draped across his forehead. "It's not right for you,
Claire."

His simple statement touched her. Boyd was a
tender and honorable man, and so handsome she could barely look
without wanting to make love to him. But she wouldn't marry
him.

Ever.

Not even if he was professing his love, which
he wasn't.

She propped up on her elbow and looked down
at him. "You're letting our attraction lead you into a marriage
proposal that isn't necessary."

He lifted his arm, his dark eyebrows slashing
downward. "You think I'm proposing simply because I like making
love with you?"

She shrugged because his frown warned her not
to say yes. "I'm saying that things will change for us. After the
newness of my marriage to Jack wore off, I became a responsibility
to him. One he resented."

"Do you honestly think I'd be that cold and
callous?"

"No. You wouldn't be that cruel." She knew
that. His changes would be more subtle. "But after a year or so,
you'd lose interest in me. You would change." And she would be
trapped.

He tossed the covers back.

"Where are you going?" she asked, watching
him climb out of the warm, rumpled bed.

"To get dressed so I can take you home."

She reached out and caught his wrist. "Don't
be angry."

"I'm not
angry
, Claire. I'm insulted
that you would compare me to a man like Jack."

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to insult you."

"Well, you did," He wrenched away and reached
for his trousers. He sat on the edge of the bed and shoved one foot
into his pant leg, then stopped to look at her. "You're willing to
share my bed but not my life. Does that mean you don't trust me? Or
does it mean you don't care enough to marry me?"

"Oh, Boyd." She got to her knees and cupped
his face — a face she adored, a man who touched the most vulnerable
part of her heart. "This isn't about you at all," she said. "It's
about me. I'm not the woman you think I am."

"You're stubborn and determined. You care
about people and champion causes to help them. You love your
family. You take in strays. What else is there to know?"

She gulped, knowing she needed to tell Boyd
the truth, but dreading his reaction. "I let my husband drown."

As if he'd been gut-punched, Boyd sagged away
and stared at her.

"I was in the river with Jack when he
drowned." She raked her hair out of her eyes, then pulled the quilt
around her shoulders. "We were living in a ramshackle room near the
docks in Pittsburgh. I'd just received the deed to my grandmother's
house, and Jack wanted it. I knew he'd gamble it away, so I ran out
of the apartment and refused to tell him where I'd hidden it."

The bedroom was chilly, but it was her memory
of that terrifying night that made her shiver.

"We argued, then we fought—physically, I
mean,"

Boyd's brow furrowed and his fists clenched
around the trousers he was still gripping.

"Jack hit me with the back of his hand like
usual, but I refused to tell him where I hid the deed. So he
slugged me with his fist."

"Jesus, Claire."

The memory of her husband, whom she'd given
herself to body and soul, striking her without the slightest sign
of regret, made her eyes mist.

"The second time Jack hit me, our feet got
tangled up and we plunged into the river." A tremor shook her
stomach, but she forced herself to finish the story. "He pulled me
under the water, and I thought he was trying to drown me. I kicked
away from him and swam to shore,"

"Which sounds intelligent to me," Boyd said,
his earlier look of irritation replaced with one of concern.

"But Jack couldn't swim," she replied, regret
and shame poking at her conscience. "I knew that, but I swam away
anyhow."

Boyd squeezed her hand and she met his eyes.
"He beat you. He would have killed you. You know that."

She nodded, acknowledging the heartbreaking
truth. Her own husband would have killed her.

"Come here," Boyd said softly, pulling her
over to straddle his lap. She went willingly into his arms, seeking
solace and safety from the horror of watching Jack drown.

"I'm not a good person," she said. "That's
why you shouldn't ask me to marry you."

He grinned. "I've been meaning to bring that
to your attention. You've not only destroyed my desire to remain a
bachelor, you've stolen my dog and completely ruined him as a
saloon hound."

A small laugh escaped her, because Boyd was
good and true, trying to bring humor to the mess she'd made of her
life. But an instant later that little spark went out and hot tears
filled her eyes. She was confused and scared.

"I can't marry you," she whispered. "I
can't."

He rubbed her back, patient and kind. "What
you're saying is that you don't trust me enough to marry me," he
said. His tone was guarded, despite the warm caress of his
hands.

"I don't trust myself," she said, and she
didn't. She made too many bad choices and wrong decisions. "I'll
never marry again, Boyd. I can't,"

His hands on her back paused, and she knew
she'd hurt him, and had maybe even made her worst decision yet. But
how could protecting her independence be wrong? Marriage was a
cage, love a trap, and trust merely an illusion.

Only passion was real. Boyd's naked flesh
pressing against the peaks of her breasts was real. Her desire for
him was real. She would show him the difference, and make him want
the passion.

o0o

Claire leaned against her kitchen counter,
clutching a cup of strong coffee in her hands, hoping it would ease
her headache. Boyd had turned away her last attempt at lovemaking.
He'd been gentle but firm in denying her, cordial but silent as he
helped her dress and walked her home. She'd rejected his marriage
proposal. He'd rejected her offer of an affair. Her need for
self-preservation wouldn't allow her to change her mind. His
integrity wouldn't let him change his.

Sailor pushed against her legs, wheezing and
begging for her attention.

"Yes, you're staying with me for a few days,"
she said, rubbing his knobby head. When Boyd had walked her home,
he asked her to keep Sailor while he went to Buffalo. She'd agreed
immediately, loving the idea of having the silly dog in her home,
and hoping her gesture would thaw the coolness shrouding Boyd.

Only after he left her foyer had his words
struck a nerve. He was going to Buffalo?

And Anna was going to Pittsburgh this morning
with Sheriff Grayson to testify at Larry's trial.

"Claire?"

She looked up to see Anna setting her valise
by the door.

Sailor scurried across the room and sniffed
the woman's small bag.

Anna stroked Sailor's ears, but eyed Claire.
"Are you all right?" she asked with concern.

Claire nodded. Anna knew she'd been with Boyd
all night, and must suspect how they had spent the time. "Are you
sure you want to do this?" Claire asked, fearing her friend was
making a deadly mistake.

"I saw Larry kill that man. I can't pretend I
didn't." She sank into a chair and rubbed Sailor's back. "Everyone,
including me, will be safer if I can help keep Larry in jail."

"But what if he finds a way to get out of
jail like he did last time?" Claire asked. "He'll hate you for
testifying against him."

"He hates me already." Anna's shoulders
drooped. "If he gets out of jail, he's going to find me and hurt
me. He's going to hurt other people too. I talked with the sheriff,
and he agrees that I should do everything I can to make sure Larry
stays in prison."

Even though Anna was going to Pittsburgh to
testify against her husband under Sheriff Grayson's protection, the
bold move unnerved Claire. Larry was mean to the bone. If he ever
got free, he would come after Anna. And if Anna was living here,
Claire feared that Boyd's shooting lesson wouldn't be enough for
her to protect them.

"The sheriff is going to take me to see my
family after we go to Pittsburgh. If you prefer, I can stay there.
As long as Larry's locked up, I should be safe with my family."

Claire admired Anna's courage, and was glad
she would be able to see her family again. But from the tiny hints
Anna had dropped about her parents and siblings, they hadn't
exactly stood by her when she needed them.

"I'd be lost without you, Anna." Claire
crossed the kitchen and gave her a hug. "Stay safe and hurry
back."

Anna returned the hug. "Thank you."

"How long will you be away?"

"I don't know," Anna answered, but despite
her apprehension over testifying against Larry, she seemed excited
about seeing her family for the first time in several years. Claire
felt a little envious. Anna would be seeing her family. Boyd was
heading to Buffalo, probably to see the unfairly beautiful Martha.
Claire was stuck in her empty boardinghouse alone.

"I have two boarders for you," Elizabeth began, standing at
Claire's front door with two elderly women. "This is my
mother-in-law Mildred," she said, her gaze locked on Claire in
silent desperation as if trying to convey a secret message. "And
this is her sister Maude. They've come to visit Ted and me for a
couple of weeks, but I'm afraid they'll catch their deaths from the
frigid drafts blowing through the walls of my daughters' old
bedrooms. I'm hoping you have a couple of rooms where they'll be
warm and comfortable during their stay."

With an understanding nod to Elizabeth,
Claire drew the women into the foyer. "I have the perfect rooms for
you ladies," she said. Elizabeth followed them inside, her relief
easing the strain lines around her mouth. Claire intuitively
understood that Elizabeth wanted to present a happy home to her
mother-in-law, and that two weeks of living together would reveal
too much.