Outlaw's Bride (11 page)

Andy's eyes sparkled with excitement. “You think so?”

Clint laid a hand on the boy's shoulder. “I can't promise. All I can do is try. If nothing else, maybe we can get her to let you use a rifle. A man needs to know how to hunt.”

“That's what I told her, but she still said no.”

Clint could understand Mattie's protectiveness, but she shouldn't smother the boy. “You let me talk to her and we'll see what happens,” he said.

“All right, but I won't get my hopes up.” He grinned at Clint. “Ma can be as stubborn as a cross-eyed mule.”

“Yep, I've figured that out myself.”

Clint and Andy's shared laughter drifted in through the open kitchen window and Mattie stopped to look out at them. Standing by the corral, Clint had his arm around Andy's shoulders. The image burned itself into Mattie's mind and her throat tightened.

When she'd married Jason, she'd dreamed of moments like this. She'd pictured him as the perfect father, playing with his children and teaching them right from wrong. The reality, however, was that Jason had been a child himself, selfish and petulant. He hadn't truly loved her—he'd only wanted her.

The smell of burning flapjacks jerked Mattie's attention back to breakfast. She quickly removed the pancakes from the griddle. Ever since Clint Beaudry had shown up, she found herself woolgathering too often.

Ten minutes later, she called everyone in to eat.

Clint and Andy strolled to the house from the corral, talking and laughing. Herman came out of the barn and joined them. Mattie watched them approach, her son sandwiched between the two men. An odd sense of contentment filled her and for a moment she wished this could be an everyday sight.

Herman paused on the porch and sniffed the air. “Must be Saturday. I can smell the flapjacks.”

“What do flapjacks have to do with Saturday?” Clint asked.

“Ma only makes them once a week, though they're me and Herman's favorite,” Andy said.

The flapjacks disappeared quickly, as did the bacon Mattie had fried up to go with it. Clint's appetite had returned as he healed from the bullet wound and Mattie noticed his lean frame was filling out. His face wasn't nearly as gaunt as it had been, and his ribs weren't so prominent anymore, either.

It wouldn't be long before he was well enough to leave them. In the short time he'd been there, she'd grown accustomed to having him around. She would miss his husky-voiced morning greeting and his damnable pride that got her dander up.

But most of all she would miss the way he made her feel when he looked at her—like she was still young and pretty.

And desirable.

The following morning, Mattie hesitated by Clint's bedroom and glanced inside. It was empty. Had he left?

Raising her skirt hem a few inches, she flew down the stairs. Clint came out of the kitchen and she stopped abruptly.

“Where's the fire?” he asked with a twinkle in his eyes.

Her heartbeat thundering in her ears, Mattie met his mischievous gaze. “I, ah, I was just wondering where you'd gone to.”

“Afraid I left?” He winked rakishly and Mattie's bones suddenly turned to custard.

“No, of course not,” she replied too quickly.

In two steps Clint was directly in front of her. He placed both hands against the wall on either side of her, imprisoning her between his arms. He smelled faintly of shaving soap and leather, a mixture that teased her, invited her to breathe deeply of his masculine scent. Her breasts seemed to swell, her nipples pebbling against her Sunday dress.

“When I leave, I won't sneak out like a thief in the night,” he said in an intimate, low voice.

Mattie's gaze locked with his, and his penetrating eyes grew heavy-lidded and mesmerizing with temptation's promise. Her body tingled, demanding she lean forward against his hard planes and surrender to the ache in her belly.

Slowly, hypnotically, Clint lowered his head toward hers, never giving her a reprieve from the seduction in his eyes or the heat of his too-near body. Caught like a butterfly in a web, Mattie knew they shouldn't be doing this. What if Andy saw them?

She tried to summon the strength to move away from him, but then Clint cupped the back of her neck in his strong hand. Her skin tingled and heated beneath his touch, evaporating her resistance.

He splayed his fingers through her hair, which she had left unbraided. When his warm lips feathered across hers, she lost whatever sliver of restraint remained. She placed her arms around his waist and a sane part of her remembered to be careful of his wound.

He slanted his mouth across hers, this time giving a little more, and Mattie deepened the kiss. She felt the slight pressure of his tongue against her lips and she opened herself to him, taking and giving in equal measure. She drew her body flush with his and the hard ridge of his arousal pressed against her belly.

Passion flowed fast and furious through Mattie. She only had to lead him upstairs to her room to share the pleasures she knew awaited them. It had been so long since she'd felt a man's touch that she physically ached.

But what if he got her pregnant? She'd be left to raise another child alone. And nothing was worth the pain of that again.

Nothing.

She flattened her palms against his broad chest and forced herself to push him away. She turned her head, breaking the kiss that had temporarily stolen her good sense. “Stop.”

Clint drew back, his arms dropping to his sides and releasing Mattie from their sweet imprisonment. His face flushed and his nostrils flared in an obvious effort to regain control. “What the hell was that all about?”

Mattie froze at the anger in his voice. “You were the one who started it.”

“With your permission.”

Her face heated with humiliation. “You didn't give me a chance to say no.”

“When a woman puts her arms around me and opens her mouth to mine, that says yes to me. What are you afraid of, Mattie?” he asked quietly.

Startled, she snapped her head up to look at him and found his anger was gone, replaced by concern. “Not a darned thing, Mr. Beaudry.”

“The name's Clint.”

With her back against the wall, she edged sideways. “I have to start breakfast.”

“I already made coffee—should be hot and ready.” The glint in his eye told Mattie the double meaning was intended.

She didn't rise to the bait. “I'll call you when breakfast is on.”

Before Mattie could flee, Clint took her chin between his thumb and forefinger. “I wouldn't leave without paying for room and board,” he said softly, then his mouth gentled to a smile. “I'm not that kind of man.”

An hour later, Mattie and Andy strolled into the churchyard in Green Valley. She had asked Clint if he wanted to accompany them to Sunday service, but he'd declined. Mattie suspected he hadn't set foot in a church in a very long time.

She greeted people she'd known most of her life as she walked into the building. Mattie always welcomed the break in the week to visit friends and take her away from the drudgery of her day-to-day work. Today, however, as she listened to the Reverend Lister drone on about the evils of drunkenness, Mattie found her thoughts straying to her too-handsome patient. Then the sermon shifted from drunkenness to temptation in general, and she slouched a little lower in her pew, certain everyone could see the guilt in her face.

Finally, the tedious homily ended and the concluding hymn was sung. Mattie and Andy followed the crowd out into the churchyard, where Andy joined his friends Buck and Josh for a game of tag.

Sheriff Atwater joined her. “Mornin', Mattie.”

She smiled fondly. “Hello, Walt. Have you been keeping out of trouble?”

“Can't get into much trouble with the gout actin' up.” He chuckled. “Besides, ain't I supposed to be askin' you that?”

Mattie's face warmed. “Now, what kind of trouble could I get into out there by myself?”

“I hear Beaudry's still stayin' with you.”

She wasn't surprised he knew. Walt made it his business to know everybody else's business, which Mattie supposed was his job. “He's still healing. That bullet nearly killed him.”

“What about Kevin—where's he been?”

She glanced away guiltily. Kevin had only dropped by once since he'd returned, and she hadn't even missed him. “I haven't seen him much. I guess he's been busy.”

“I reckon there have been a lot of babies bein' born lately.” He scratched his grizzled jaw. “It's just that I been concerned about you, Mattie.”

Impatience fluttered through her. “There's no need to worry about me.”

“Don't get your hackles up. It's just that I seen how you looked at him and how he looked at you. You been alone a long time, maybe too long.”

“I'm not alone—I have Andy.”

“You know what I mean, Mattie St. Clair.” Walt fingered the brim of his hat. “I'll drop by for a visit later this week.”

Mattie appreciated his fatherly concern; Walt was a good friend and she did enjoy his visits. She reached out and clasped his hand. “Remember to come around suppertime.”

The lawman patted his somewhat generous girth. “I ain't about to forget.” He donned his hat. “Good day, Mattie.”

“'Bye.”

She watched the lawman limp away, concerned that he was getting too old for the job. Her husband had been twenty-two when he'd been killed and Walt was a lot slower than Jason had been. She shook her head. When Walt came to visit, she'd have a talk with him, try to convince him to retire.

Mattie heard her name called and joined a small group of women to hear the latest gossip.

The next day after breakfast, Clint said to Mattie, “If you don't mind, I'd like Andy to help me fix the chicken coop this morning.”

She eyed him critically, noting his still too-pale cheeks and the way he favored his left side. “Are you sure you're up to it?”

“With Andy's help, I'll be fine.”

“Can I, Ma?” the boy pleaded.

Amusement filled Mattie—she'd never heard Andy beg to work before. “All right, but I want you to keep an eye on Mr. Beaudry and make sure he doesn't overdo it. If he starts getting tired, you make sure he sits down and rests.”

“Yes, ma'am.” Enthusiasm rang in his young voice.

“And who'll make sure
you
don't overdo it?” Clint asked softly.

Mattie quickly looked away, uncomfortable with the compassion in his eyes. “I wasn't the one who was shot.”

“You're driving yourself so hard, you're going to drop in your tracks one of these days.”

“A little hard work never hurt anyone.” She stood and gathered their plates. “What about you, Herman? What're you planning to do today?”

The old man shifted uneasily in his chair. “I reckon I can give Andy and Beaudry a hand, if they need me.”

Mattie turned toward the sink to hide her smile. The hopefulness in Herman's voice told her he would prefer they
didn't
need him.

“I appreciate it, Herman. This way we can probably get it all fixed today,” Clint said. “Let's get to work. The sooner we finish, the sooner you can go fishing.”

The scraping of the chair legs told Mattie they were leaving and she turned to watch Clint place his hat on his head. Her gaze lingered on his backside as he left.

Though she usually did indoor tasks on Monday mornings, Mattie decided to work in the garden before it got too hot. Her decision had nothing to do with the fact that the garden was only thirty feet from the chicken coop and that Clint would be in her sight the entire time. No, of course not.

With a bonnet on her head and gloves on her hands, Mattie knelt in the rich soil, the loamy smell surrounding her with familiar comfort. Though the garden had been weeded three days ago, new weeds had already taken their place. She tugged them out, crooning to her carrot and pea plants like she would to a baby.

The sound of laughter drew her attention and she paused, watching Clint hold a board for Andy as her son hammered a nail into it. Her throat tightened at the camaraderie that was growing between her son and the puzzling gunman. As sure as she knew her vegetables would grow if they were nurtured and cared for, she knew the same could happen with the blooming friendship between Andy and Clint. But Clint wouldn't stay long enough to allow the seed to germinate.

After she completed the weeding, she pulled some carrots and picked some peas for lunch. If there was time in the afternoon, she'd check the peach trees. A peach pie would round out supper nicely.

Mattie took her bucket and sat on the porch to ready the vegetables. She popped the pods open and skimmed her finger beneath the line of round peas so that they dropped into the pan in her lap. It would be nice to have the coop fixed up for the coming winter. She'd despaired of having it last through the violent blizzards, and if she lost her chickens, she would lose a part of her livelihood and a food source.