Sullivan (6 page)

"Are the ladies inside?" he asked as he neared the boy. Teddy nodded, and Sullivan reached out to lay a hand on the boy's head. The kid didn't move away, but he tensed so hard his neck corded and his hands balled into little fists. Sullivan's hand didn't linger on Teddy's small head. Trust didn't come easy or fast, he knew.

Eden placed her purchases on the front counter as Sullivan entered the general store, and she turned her head to smile familiarly. Millie had been exploring, and when she saw him standing in the doorway, she shouted "Papa!" and ran to him with a smile on her pretty face.

He didn't live in this town, but there were a few people here who knew him by reputation and by sight. They knew what had happened in Rock Creek last year; they recognized and respected or feared him. More than a few eyes widened as Millie reached up her arms to him.

He stared down at her, not knowing what to do or say. "You and Teddy get settled in the wagon." Her little arms fell, but her smile never faded. "We're almost finished here."

Eden paid for her purchases, and Sullivan went to the counter to carry them for her. He could feel people watching him, and he knew what they were thinking—Sinclair Sullivan, domesticated? Tamed? Cowed?
Married
. He thought about correcting all the unspoken thoughts with a few gruff words, but was sure anything he said would come out sounding defensive. Why should he tell these nosy people anything? Let them assume whatever they wanted. Besides, no one would give Eden any trouble if they thought she was his.

The shopkeeper gave Sullivan a sly "you-old-dog" grin as he handed over Eden's purchases. "Well, Mr. Sullivan, you're certainly full of surprises." He turned his much too curious eyes to Eden. "Will you be settling in Rock Creek, ma'am?"

"Yes, I will," she said brightly, a subdued, alluring smile on her face. "And I'm very much looking forward to it."

"It's a rough place," the man said, "but with Sullivan there to look out for you, you won't have any problems a'tall."

Eden looked up and gave Sullivan a smile that was sure to confirm the suspicions that they were married. That smile was full of sunshine and promise and wonder. It was strangely intimate, a smile that spoke volumes to those who cared to listen. Hell, it made his insides do an unexpected dance.

"I'm sure you're right," she said. "He's been quite capable up to this point."

The shopkeeper's wide grin faded a little.
Capable
wasn't exactly a romantic or thrilling description.

"Let's go," Sullivan said as he turned away. "We've got a long way to travel today."

"Of course, Sinclair," Eden said sweetly. "The sooner we get started, the sooner we'll get to Rock Creek."

He tossed Eden's purchases into the back of the wagon with the kids. They had a three-day trip ahead of them, at the pace they'd been traveling. Three days. On horseback he could be in Rock Creek in a matter of hours, but the way this wagon lurched an inch at a time down the road made the trip interminably long. As he made sure the purchases were secured where they wouldn't fall over in the wagon, Millie reached out both hands and patted him on the cheeks. Softly, since he still sported a number of cuts and bruises on his face.

"Papa, Papa, Papa," she said with wonder in her voice. He was about to correct her when she continued. "I never had a papa before, not even a pretend one. I like this game."

It was going to be a damn long three days.

Perhaps the excitement of the early morning hours had dampened her spirits somewhat, because Eden was quiet for the remainder of the day. She spoke to the kids, and to him when it was necessary, but there were no more attempts at casual conversation; they were well past that point.

He liked the quiet, and he liked sitting beside Eden on the wagon's hard seat. He liked looking at her, when she didn't know he was watching, studying the curve of her cheek and the curve of her breasts and the curve of her hip. If not for the kids, if not for the fact that she was Jed's sister, he might be tempted to reach out and touch one or all of those tempting curves.

That would never happen, of course. He remained with her because he felt an obligation to her and to her brother. She'd likely saved his life in Webberville, and besides... If he left Eden to her own devices, if he allowed her to continue to travel alone, Jed would be pissed.

After they stopped for the night, she fed the kids beans and jerky and ate a few bites herself. She picked at her food, as if she had no appetite. He'd think she was simply tired of beans and jerky if he didn't already know her so well. The killing still bothered her, more than a little.

When the kids had crawled into the back of the wagon and Eden was preparing to join them, Sullivan broke the silence. "He would've killed you," he said softly, so the kids wouldn't hear.

"Maybe," she whispered, uncertainty clear in her voice. "We'll never know for sure."

"No maybes about it, Miss Rourke," he said sternly. "Those men intended to kill you and me and even the kids."

Her head snapped up, and he could see the fire in her eyes. "They wouldn't have," she whispered.

He nodded once. "I'm afraid so. The sheriff in Ranburne told me a little bit about those three when I told him where to find them. They really are brothers, and we weren't the first travelers they joined up with and ambushed. They've done it several times before, and every time but one they killed everybody. The only time they didn't kill everyone it was a mistake. One of the kids hid under their wagon and watched as they killed his entire family. In the past three years the Merriweather brothers have murdered women and children, young men and old." It was a harsh reality, but one she had to face up to. He would not pretty the facts up for her, try to make things nice and easy.

Her stubborn chin lifted, and by the firelight he could see the sheen of unshed tears in her eyes. She was a little thing, but
damn it
there was strength in her heart. She didn't back away from anything. "A man who would kill a child deserves to die."

"Yes, he does."

Eden paced on the other side of the fire, thoughtful and restless. Perhaps she was wisely deciding she'd made a terrible mistake coming to Texas.

"If you'd like, I'll take you back to San Antonio and put the three of you on the next train heading East."

She stopped pacing and set her eyes on him. "I have no intention of going back to Georgia."

"Jed isn't waiting in Rock Creek, and he won't be happy to find you there when he does show up."

She gave him her haughtiest look, but it didn't quite work. Maybe it was the delicate cut of her cheek or the almost childish quality of her cute little nose. Maybe it was the gentleness in her eyes. Whatever the reason,
haughty
didn't work on her. "He
will
be happy to see me," she insisted.

He didn't argue that if Jed was all that anxious to see her, he would've made the trip to Georgia long ago. That didn't mean he was ready to give up the argument entirely. "You don't belong here."

"Maybe not yet," she said. "But I will. Eventually."

"What about the kids?" If nothing else, she had a soft spot for those children. She'd do whatever was best for them. He didn't mind using that soft spot against her. "What are you going to do with two orphans in Rock Creek? It's a small, hard place. People aren't exactly lining up to take in other people's kids."

"They'll live with me, of course," she said, as if she'd never considered any other option. "I'll enroll them in school. There is a school in Rock Creek, isn't there? If not, I'll teach them myself," she continued without waiting for an answer.

"They're not yours," he insisted, wondering why anyone would willingly take on two unwanted kids.

"They are now."

He looked into the fire. Hell, there was no arguing with this woman. She was completely irrational, had a misguided answer for every logic he presented to her, and like all women, she intended to have her way.

While he stared into the fire, Eden rounded it slowly. He didn't move, but he sure as hell sensed every step she took as she came near and then sat on the ground beside him.

"I never thanked you," she said softly. "Those men might've... might've..." She didn't want to talk about what might've happened anymore than he did.

"No need to thank me," he said gruffly.

Eden Rourke had no reservations at all when it came to touching. He saw her do it with the kids all the time, a hug, a slender hand on a shoulder, fingers on a smudge of dirt. It was as if she touched without even thinking about what she was doing.

She did it to him now, reaching out to tuck the strands of hair that hid his face from her behind his ear. "Your face looks so much better already," she said, her finger tracing a small cut. "The swelling is down, and thank goodness nothing seems to be infected."

Sullivan held his breath, and a strange lump formed in his chest. He fought the urge to grab her wrist and push her away, just as diligently as he fought the urge to reach out, grab her, and pull her body against his. He told himself he wanted to hold Eden because he'd never known anyone like her, because she possessed a goodness he'd never known. He reasoned with himself as he held his breath. She was simply too naive to know that she shouldn't be touching him, not even innocently. Eventually her hand fell away.

After her hand was gone he felt her, still. He smelled her; he heard her breathing. Something inside him whispered that he could kiss her and she wouldn't protest. Not much anyway, and not for long. Eden Rourke wasn't the kind of woman to give herself freely to a man; she was definitely not an easy woman. He'd bet his life she was a virgin. Still, that something whispered that if he said and did everything right he could lie with her tonight.

But he wouldn't. This tempting, soft woman who kept touching him was Jed's sister, and Sinclair Sullivan wasn't ready to die for a woman.

"Good night," she said, walking away slowly, with an unconscious sway in her hips and a discreet backward glance.

No, he wasn't willing to die for a woman—not yet, anyway.

* * *

They stopped frequently during the day, to rest the horses and to stretch their own legs. Eden was always grateful for the chance to get down from the wagon's hard seat and walk around, even if the respite was brief.

The children used the opportunity to expend some of their seemingly endless energy. Millie usually picked whatever wildflowers she could find and presented them to Eden with great fanfare. Eden always made a fuss, no matter how wildly untidy the bouquet might be.

Today Millie and Teddy ran down a small slope to the trickle of a stream and back up again. Millie giggled. Teddy remained quiet, but he seemed to be having fun. Oh, she so wanted him to have fun, to behave like a child.

Sullivan walked down to the stream himself, dropped to his haunches by the edge, and splashed a handful of water on his face. Eden kept her distance and watched, wincing as she imagined how his poor face must hurt.

He carefully pulled his shirt over his head, and Eden winced again at the bruises on his back and sides. She really should turn away and give him some privacy, but found she couldn't bear to take her eyes from him. The sight of long, dark hair against his muscled back, the way his wide shoulders looked so strong and utterly masculine made her certain, at the moment, that he possessed a beauty like no other. Silly thought.

He dipped a length of fabric, part of the shirt he'd been wearing when he'd been beaten, into the water, and brought it carefully to his midsection. Eden sauntered casually down the hill.

"Are you all right?" she asked. "If you need to rest for a while..."

She stopped speaking when he stood and turned to face her. "I'm fine. I don't need to rest."

She started to reach out to touch the blackest bruise on his midsection, a horrid-looking mark against muscled flesh, but pulled her fingers back before she could be so foolish. The marks on his body hurt her, as if she'd been the one hit.

"Why do people do things like this to other human beings?" she asked, her eyes on the horrid bruise. "I will never understand."

"Some are just born mean, I guess," Sullivan said, sounding as if that fact didn't bother him at all. He pulled on his shirt, carefully, his muscles dancing softly with each move. "And some," he said, setting his eyes on her as the shirt fell into place, "are too damn softhearted for their own good."

Before she could argue or tell him not to curse, Millie ran down the hill with a fresh batch of wild-flowers grasped in her little fist. "Mama," she shouted joyfully, "this is for you."

"What beautiful flowers," Eden said, taking the raggedy bouquet. Several of the stems had been broken, and the already wilting flowers fell over her hand. "You are so sweet to pick them for me."

Teddy was right behind her, a single flower in his own hand. He watched the flower as he walked down the hill, and when he reached the threesome he lifted his eyes to Eden. Almost nervously, he raised the orange bloom and offered it to her.

"Oh, Teddy," she said, trying not to cry. The sweet gesture was his first tender overture to her. To anyone in a long while, she suspected. "This is lovely, too."

With his free hand, Teddy motioned for her to lean closer, and when she complied he cautiously tucked the flower behind her ear.

"Papa needs a flower," Millie said, excitement making her voice high. "He has beautiful hair, too."

She plucked one of the flowers from the bouquet in Eden's hand, and with her wiggling fingers waved a silent instruction for Sullivan to dip down. Eden wondered if Sullivan would be so cruel as to laugh or refuse the offer, but of course he didn't. He bent slowly forward, his expression one of suspicion, as if the child were holding a snake instead of a flower. When he was in place, Millie stuck the stem of the bloom firmly behind his ear.

Obviously delighted with the results, the children ran up the hill. Eden set her curious eyes on Sullivan, and she couldn't help but smile. Before her stood the most vital, masculine man she had ever met, and he had a bright yellow flower tucked behind his right ear.