Outlaw's Bride (22 page)

“He's a gunslinger, Mattie, the type of man you don't want Andy around, yet I left him here.”

“He's
not
a gunslinger.” The certainty behind her words surprised Mattie as much as Kevin.

“Of course he is. We've both seen his type before.”

“No. He's not like that, Kevin. If he was, he wouldn't have risked his own life to save Andy's.”

He eyed her silently. “What is he to you, Mattie?”

Her heart leapt into her throat. “He was my patient, and now he's my friend.”

“And?”

Mattie could feel the color rise in her face, but she couldn't tell Kevin what she felt for Clint Beaudry, because even she wasn't certain herself. “And nothing,” she said. “He's good with Andy and this is the first day he's worn his gunbelt since he's been here. He's not a bad man, Kevin.”

“I wish I could be as sure of that as you.” He dragged a hand through his thinning hair. “I should never have left him here.”

“Then he would've died. Is that what you wanted?”

“No,” he replied without hesitation. “I'm a doctor, Mattie. My job is to save lives.”

She took his cool hands in hers and couldn't help but compare them to Clint's slender fingers and wide, strong palms. She dashed the traitorous thought aside. “Since I'm your nurse, it's my job, too. You couldn't have done anything differently.”

He smiled slightly. “You're right. If I only treated people I liked, I'd have an awfully small patient list.”

Mattie laughed softly, but it wasn't genuine. Before Clint had come into her life, she'd been so certain she would come to love Kevin. Now her emotions were in turmoil. She had never seen this side of Kevin before—a jealous, almost caustic side.

“You don't mind if I come by tomorrow with that book for Andy, do you?”

Mattie swallowed hard. Clint would probably be gone then. Tears burned her eyes and she blinked them back. “No, of course not. What time?”

He smiled boyishly. “I was hoping you'd say around dinnertime.”

Mattie smiled. “That would be fine.”

Kevin pressed his dry lips against hers. After a moment's hesitation, Mattie kissed him back. She wanted to feel what she felt when Clint kissed her. She
needed
to feel it.

She opened her mouth and swept her tongue across his lips. Kevin quickly drew back, his face as red as a ripe strawberry. “Ah, well, I'd best get back. Someone might be looking for me.”

Mattie folded her hands together and held them properly in front of her. Despair filled her and she fought to keep the emotion from her voice. “Yes, you'd better. I guess I'll see you tomorrow then.”

“Good night,” Kevin said, then fled.

Mattie grasped the back of a chair. She wanted so badly to feel for Kevin what she felt for Clint.

Why couldn't she be attracted to the right man instead of the wrong one? It had to be that passionate nature Mrs. Hotzel had accused her of having.

Mattie took a deep breath—Clint would leave and Kevin would remain. It was the perfect solution. A woman couldn't fall in love with a man if he wasn't around, could she?

Not wanting to dwell on the answer, Mattie climbed the stairs to get Andy settled in bed, but froze in the doorway to his room. Andy was already tucked in and Clint was sitting in the chair beside the bed.

The lamp's light flickered off the handle of his revolver. Her fingernails pressed into her palms. She had told him the rules about wearing his gunbelt under her roof. How dare he?

Then Clint reached for the book on the nightstand and held it up to Andy. “This one?” he asked.

The boy nodded.

“Okay, now close your eyes and I'll read to you for a little while,” Clint said softly.

Mattie drew back so she wouldn't be seen, but listened while Clint's rich voice brought the story to life. As his tone rose and fell, his wearing the gunbelt seemed unimportant. It was only one part of Clint Beaudry—and not the most vital.

Gentle, soft-spoken Kevin had never read aloud to Andy. In fact, Kevin did very little with the boy. The offer to bring the medical book over to entertain him was the first overture the doctor had made toward him. Yet in the little time Clint had been there, he'd done so much more with her son—fishing, working together, saving his life, and reading him a bedtime story.

The blood drained from her face and she flattened her palm against the wall as she realized it was too late.

She'd already fallen in love with Clint Beaudry.

C
lint read until Andy's eyes remained closed for ten minutes, then he quietly laid the book back on the nightstand. Rising, he barely managed to restrain a groan. His body ached in places he'd never ached before.

He blew out the lamp and tiptoed out of the room, but stopped to glance back at the boy, who appeared small and vulnerable. It had been so close. Instead of lying in his bed tonight, Andy could have been laid out in a pine box.

Clint shivered. Death could strike so unexpectedly.

The smell of frying meat and fresh coffee reached him and his stomach growled in response. It had been a long time since he'd eaten lunch—another lifetime ago, before he'd taken a ride and talked with the sheriff, and spent an eternity in that dark well.

He started toward the stairs, but paused when he noticed the weight of his gunbelt on his hips. He'd made Mattie a promise that he wouldn't wear it in her house. Backtracking, he entered his own room and removed the belt and holster, placing them in a dresser drawer beneath his few clothes.

He descended the stairs, his legs and back protesting every movement. How the hell was he going to mount a horse tomorrow? Maybe he
should
stay another day or two, just until he felt better.

He froze on the bottom step. Where had that come from? He couldn't waste any more time here; he had to get back on the trail of the killer.

He continued into the kitchen, not surprised to see Mattie at the stove. Her cheeks were pinkened by the heat and dark tendrils curled around her face. The fear so evident earlier was no longer there.

“Smells good,” he commented awkwardly.

Startled, she turned and her gaze flickered to his waist. “You took it off,” she said in surprise.

He dropped into a chair and smiled sheepishly. “I forgot earlier. Sorry.”

“That's all right,” she said.

Clint hadn't expected her to be so calm about it.

She speared the round steak in the iron skillet and turned it over. “I saw you reading to Andy.”

Clint rubbed his sore eyes. “He was tired, but he didn't want me to leave until he'd fallen asleep.” He shrugged. “Guess I'd feel the same way if I'd almost died today.”

Mattie turned her whole body around to face him. “You almost did,” she said with aching concern.

His throat suddenly tightened. “But I didn't.”

She studied him silently for a few more moments, then gave her attention back to supper. Clint planted his elbow on the edge of the table and rested his chin in his palm. He wasn't quite sure of what to make of this Mattie. She was probably just so grateful that her boy was alive that she'd lost that starched tongue of hers—she'd be back to her usual stubborn self in the morning, after the shock wore off.

He had to admit she'd managed to remain fairly calm. While he'd been a marshal, he'd seen more than his share of hysterical mothers. None of them had possessed Mattie's levelheadedness, and he was sure no other woman would have hung on to him when the ground had given way beneath his hand. He admired her backbone, her strength, and even her stubborn pride. If only he'd met her before …

And then she would be the one dead, instead of Emily.

The memory of his wife's broken body caught him off guard—and this time it was Mattie's face the corpse wore. He swallowed the bile rising in his throat.

“Thanks for catching me,” he said with a husky voice.

Mattie set a plate of meat on the table, then touched his arm, her fingertips scorching him through the layer of cloth. “No, thank
you
. You saved my son's life, almost at the cost of your own.”

He laid his palm on her hand that rested on his sleeve. The smoothness of her skin sent heat tumbling through his veins. “I'd do it again just so I wouldn't have to see that fear in your face.”

The coffee bubbled on the stove while the lamps cast flickering shadows in the corners. An owl hooted nearby, then there was the whispered hush of its wings as it swooped down from its perch. A fox yipped in the distance and another answered from farther away.

Clint barely heard the common night sounds as a backdrop to Mattie's breathing and his own heartbeat. When had this woman and her son slipped past his defenses? Why did the thought of leaving them tomorrow bring such a bitter taste to his soul?

Mattie gently drew away and returned to the stove to gather the rest of the food. Clint shifted in his chair, his nerves taut and his blood hot and thick in his veins. He desired her just as he had when he'd first laid eyes on her, but now the need was tempered with some other emotion—something more dangerous than simple lust.

Mattie and Andy need you.

He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. His wife had needed him, too, and he'd let her down. He couldn't risk doing the same to Mattie and her son.

Mattie settled in the chair across the table from him and placed her napkin in her lap. She lifted her gaze to his once, but quickly lowered it when she caught his eye.

Clint filled his plate and tried to pretend the air between them didn't sizzle like water on a hot frying pan. The absence of Andy and Herman added to the tension, allowing him no respite from his awareness of the woman.

“You really should stay until you're healed more,” Mattie said, breaking the silence.

Clint couldn't tell her how tempted he was to do just that. But even one more day among this family might break his resolve completely. The drive to find Emily's killer had lost much of its force, battered away by the temptation to return to a normal life … with Mattie and Andy.

“It's better for everyone if I leave tomorrow.” He remembered Dr. Murphy's thinly veiled dislike for him. “Especially for your doctor friend.”

Mattie's face reddened. “Kevin wouldn't want you to do anything that might hinder your recovery.”

Clint smiled crookedly. “Kevin doesn't like another man hanging around his woman. If you were my woman, I sure as hell wouldn't let another man near you, even if he was supposed to be healing from a bullet wound.”

He could see her heartbeat fluttering in her slender neck and was tempted to press his lips to the pulse point.

“Kevin has no reason to be jealous. You'll be leaving sooner or later,” Mattie said stiffly.

He studied her a moment, trying to gauge her feelings. “Which would you prefer—sooner or later?”

“From a medical standpoint, later would be better.”

The tremor in her voice betrayed her and Clint pressed his advantage. “What about Mattie's standpoint? Do
you
want me to leave sooner or later?”

She set her fork on her plate and dropped her hands in her lap. “That isn't fair, Clint.”

His heart skipped a beat. “What isn't fair?”

“If I ask you to stay longer, you will, but for the wrong reasons.
You
have to want to stay.”

“Is that an invitation?”

Mattie met his gaze squarely. “
You
have to make the choice.”

His mouth had gone as dry as a sun-baked bone. “Why can't I do both? Why can't I leave to take care of my business, then return when I'm done?”

She shook her head. “Because I won't wait for a man who's determined to get himself killed.”

Clint's gaze became unfocused. His first reaction to Emily's murder had been disbelief, then rage, and finally guilt. Had his vow to catch her killer been his way to die without actually pulling the trigger himself?