The Outlaw Bride (23 page)

Connor wasn’t so sure he shared Bart’s optimism or faith in his abilities. He needed Kate. Needed to talk to her, to hear her opinion. To tell her he was a father. To hear her voice remind him that he could do this.

“Where’s Kate?”

“Middle of the night, Con. I ’spect she’s sleepin’ like the rest of the world.” Bart stretched his arms over his head and grunted.

“Does everyone know—about Kate, I mean?”

Bart nodded. “Yup. After what happened in the church, word spread pretty fast to anyone that missed it. And Jenny isn’t being too quiet about it, tellin’ everyone who will listen that Kate’s a bonafide hero for saving them in the church.”

Connor shook his head. Katherine had to know she was walking to her death, and yet she’d gone willingly for the sake of others. For Jenny. She was braver than most men he knew. Definitely braver than him. He had let one betrayal define his life and instead of dealing with it, he’d run away. But not Kate. She didn’t turn tail and run. When his brother asked for her promise, she made it. And kept it.

She was quite simply the most remarkable woman he had ever met.

Bart patted his leg, then stood and set the letter on the nightstand. “Get some sleep. I’ll send Amelia up in the mornin’. No doubt she’ll want to start fattenin’ you up again now that you’re awake.”

Connor scratched at the whiskers on his chin. “How long have I been here?”

“Oh, ’bout four days now.”

“Four days!” He tried to lift himself up but a sharp stab of pain pushed him back into the mattress.

“Fever, son. Had the women plumb scared out of their minds.”

“And you?”

Bart chuckled and turned down the lamp, shrouding the room in darkness. “Well, I have the benefit of knowin’ you’re too damn stubborn to die.” Bart smiled, but despite his words, Connor could see the relief in the old man’s face. “Get some sleep, son. Things always look better in the morn.”

Connor wasn’t sure he believed that, but he didn’t have enough energy left to argue.

***

“I’m really not that hungry, and I can feed myself,” Connor said, twisting his head to avoid the spoon of lumpy oatmeal Amelia attempted to shove into his mouth.

She dropped the spoon back into the bowl and fixed him with her sternest look. “Connor Douglas Langston, do you want to get your strength back and get out of this bed, or not?”

He wanted nothing more. He’d drifted in and out after Bart had left, his sleep peppered with dreams of his brother and Jenny and Kate, all snarled together until one dream meshed into the other and none of them made sense. Much like his waking life.

If he could just see Kate, maybe he could try to set a few things right, but she hadn’t been back to his room and no one seemed interested in giving him a straight answer as to where she was.

Amelia lifted the spoon once more. “Open up.”

Connor scowled but quickly forgot about Amelia and the oatmeal when the door swung wide. Jenny ran into the room, the large beast of a dog ambling in behind her, his toenails clicking against the hardwood. He opened his mouth to greet his niece—daughter…Lord, that still blew his mind—when Amelia took the opportunity to jam the spoon of oatmeal into his mouth. He shot her a dark look, swallowing the thick, tasteless lump.

“Uncle Con, you’re awake!” Jenny hurled her small frame against the bed. The motion jostled his shoulder, making him wince slightly, but the pain was gradually easing and his strength returning. He no longer felt like a mewling kitten unable to fend for itself.

Connor still hadn’t reached any conclusions on the right way to tell Jenny the truth. He knew he eventually would. Lies had a way of making things far more difficult than they needed to be. But all in good time. And preferably with Kate at his side so she could stop him from making a total muck of it.

“I’m awake, sweetheart.”

“You got dressed too,” she said, plucking the soft red flannel of the shirt he’d manage to struggle into earlier.

“Thought I’d make myself presentable for visitors,” he told her.

He had refused to touch even a mouthful of breakfast until Amelia helped him clean up. He said it would make him feel more human after four days of bed rest. In truth, his pride just didn’t want him looking like he’d been dragged through town tied to the back of a horse should Kate decide to grace his room with her presence again.

She hadn’t, though.

He turned to Jenny. “Have you been keeping busy while I’ve wasted my time lying around in bed?”

“I made bread and Kate let me chop carrots for soup and we had a tea party. Can you get up now? Can we go home?”

Connor chuckled. The rustiness of Jenny’s voice had disappeared. Amelia had told him earlier she’d barely stopped talking long enough to take a breath between sentences. It was music to his ears.

“You’re ready to head back, huh?” God, she looked like him. Bart had been right. She was the spittin’ image. This close he could even see the flecks of black in her blue eyes.

“I’m ready. So’s Kate. She packed her things this morning.”

“She did?” Connor’s gaze met Amelia’s over the top of Jenny’s blond head. He knew it would be at least a few days yet before Bart or Amelia let him out of sight long enough to return home.

Amelia pointedly avoided his gaze, twirling the spoon in the oatmeal. A trickle of unease crept down the length of his spine.

“I think it might be a couple of days yet, Jenny. Think you can wait that long?”

“Guess so. Should I tell Kate to unpack? She didn’t bring much, Uncle Con. She left all her new dresses behind. And you bled all over her yellow one. They told me you were just sleepin’, but I’m not a baby. I know the difference. And it’s too bad, because I think she looked right pretty in the yellow one. Don’t you?”

Jenny’s quick-fire comments made his head whirl but he nodded in agreement. A burlap sack thrown over Kate’s head and tied with a strip of rope at the waist probably wouldn’t detract from her beauty.

“I do.”

“Maybe you can buy her a new one. Are you going to marry her? You should marry her. Everyone says so. The bad man she married is dead so Uncle Will says it’s okay. I think Kate’s real sad you’re hurt. Even her smiles are sad. You should get up so she won’t be so sad anymore.”

Connor smiled, unable to prevent the chuckle that bubbled up from inside him, squeezing past the worry over Kate’s state of mind. “You think my being up and about will make her feel better?”

Jenny nodded and returned his smile. Rich laughter danced in her eyes, so much like his own. Connor couldn’t help but wonder if he’d be able to keep it there.

And if Kate would be there to help him achieve that goal.

Katherine pulled the ribbon from her hair and wrapped it around the stems of late season daisies, kneeling down to place them upon the hard ground. A sharp October wind whipped at her curls. She didn’t attempt to restore order. They’d be tangled but good before she left here, yet somehow it didn’t seem to matter. Everything inside of her had been twisted into knots—it was only fitting her outsides should match.

She touched the stone marker erected at the head of the grave. Grant Langston’s name and the years denoting his birth and death were etched into its surface. The monument must have cost a pretty penny, no doubt bought and paid for by the people in Fatal Bluff, a clear testament to what the town had thought of him. She wished she’d known him better, and yet she wished they’d never met at all.

“Jenny’s doing fine,” she whispered, picking up a rock and laying it over the stems so the wind didn’t whisk the flowers away. “She’s talking up a storm. I can barely get a word in edgewise.” Not that it mattered. What was left to say?

“I gave Connor the letter, like you asked. Not sure if he read it yet, but I guess once he’s feeling better…” Would he ever feel better? Would there come a time when he would wake up and not feel the bitter sting of her betrayal? She hoped so. She wanted him to forget her, although the thought of that pained her to no end. She would carry his memory in her heart until the day she died. Perhaps that was her penance, the price she paid for all the hurt she’d caused.

A tear slid down her cheek and landed on the ground next to the daisies. She used her other hand to swipe the offending moisture off her face. She thought she would have cried herself out by now.

“If it’s any consolation, Rogan is dead. I know it’s probably wrong of me to feel relief over such a thing, but I do. I can’t help it. Though it hardly seems enough.”

What would be enough? What would make things right, or better, or less painful? She didn’t know. All she knew was her leaving was the best thing all around. She’d packed her bag yesterday. Poor Jenny thought it was to take them all back to the homestead. Katherine would have to explain to her that wasn’t how it would be. She just hadn’t found the words yet, but she would have to soon. Her train left this evening.

“I’m sorry I made such a mess of things. I tried, I really did, but…I guess deception just isn’t my forte.” She tried to smile, but the effort died on her lips.

“I can second that.”

Katherine’s head shot up. “Connor!”

His lips twitched and he inclined his head. “Mornin’.”

Despite the pallor of his skin and the empty sleeve of his sheepskin jacket flapping in the wind, she’d never seen a more beautiful sight. She pushed herself to her feet and tried to ignore the unsteady wobble of her knees.

“What are you doing out of bed?”

He shrugged, then winced at the effort. “Seems I got this lump on my head. It makes me confused and prone to wandering.”

Katherine dropped her gaze. “I’m sorry. I tried to catch you, but you were too heavy. You banged your head on the counter when you fell.”

“Hmm…I wondered how that happened. Did I land on you?”

His question caught her off guard. “Land on me? No. No, you were kind enough to roll to your side and allow me room to escape.”

The twitch of his lips eased into a slow, sexy grin that she felt all the way down to her toes. “Mighty gentlemanly of me, wouldn’t you say?”

She nodded, unsure of how to take his banter. The anger of their last conversation seemed all but forgotten, as if it had never happened. But despite his affable manner, she could see the hint of nervousness crease the corners of his eyes and fan down to touch his cheekbone.

“Doc Bolger had to dig quite hard to get the bullet out of your shoulder. Then a fever set in.” She didn’t know why she was telling him this. No doubt the doctor, or Bart, or someone else had already informed him of his condition and the prognosis of a full recovery.

“Guess that explains why I feel like I’ve been beaten within an inch of my life.” He chuckled, a rich, rumbling sound that seeped beneath the surface of her skin.

“I—I’m leaving,” she blurted out.

His smile disappeared and the humor of a moment ago became lost in the furrow of his brow. “I thought you might be considering that.”

She pulled the wool shawl she’d borrowed from Amelia tighter around her shoulders. “It’s for the best.”

“Is it?” Connor slowly rounded his brother’s grave, his movements jerky and slow.

“You should sit down.” She reached out and took his arm, trying to ignore the thrill that small contact gave her. She led him to a small wooden bench sheltered by an old elm. He shouldn’t even be out of bed. What was he doing here?

“How did you find me?”

He lifted his hand to the boardinghouse across the street then let it fall back to his lap. “I saw you from my window.”

“Oh.” Had he been looking for her?

He shifted and turned his body slightly to face her. “How will you live if you leave?”

She hated his practical questions. “I’ll figure something out.”

“Seems to me like you’ll need a job.”

She swallowed. There were too few respectable jobs out there for a woman with no one to recommend her. “I suppose it would be asking too much for you to provide me with a reference?”

Connor shook his head, brushing away some imagined piece of lint from his jacket. The breeze ruffled his hair, giving him a rather boyish appearance that pulled at her heart.

“No,” he said, making a clicking sound with his tongue. “You really weren’t that good at your job.”

“Not good?” Katherine straightened and turned toward him. “What are you talking about? I was a great housekeeper. I had the meals on time, the house was clean, the—”

He held up one hand counting off with his fingers. “You fell asleep your first night there, snooped through my things, broke my favorite bowl—”

“That was not my fault! That rooster has it in for me and you know it,” Katherine shot back, pointing her finger at him.

He wrapped his hand around her finger and pulled her hand against his chest. “And you’re contrary,” Connor said, lowering his voice so that it caressed her like a soft touch. “Did I mention that?”

His touch battered her flagging strength and she fought valiantly to shore up the crumbling walls of her reserve, but there was little left to fight with.

“Come here,” he said, moving his hand up her arm and coaxing her closer.

Giving in, she scuttled closer and let her forehead rest against his good shoulder. The solid strength of him felt so good. It was all she ever wanted. It killed her to say good-bye. Katherine turned and pressed her face into the curve of Connor’s neck. His skin was warm and he smelled of soap and fresh air, not like a man who had been lying about in a sick bed for the past several days. Katherine inhaled his scent and wished for the millionth time she could change things.

But she couldn’t.

She pushed away and stood up, putting some distance between them. “I need to go.” She had to get away. She couldn’t think clearly when he was around. She started thinking of all the things she wanted, all the dreams she had. Hope flared in her heart like it had some right to be there.

“You said you loved me.”

She stopped cold and turned. “You heard that?”

Connor stood with some effort and crossed the space that separated them. His arm slid around her waist and pulled her against him. “I heard.”

“I thought you were still feverish.”

Connor smiled, leaned in and nuzzled her neck. “Maybe I was. Just not in the way you thought.”

Katherine gripped the sides of his sheepskin jacket, careful not to put undue pressure against his injured shoulder. “You need to stop that.”

His lips found that sensitive hollow just beneath her ear. “I can’t.”

“You have to.”

“No, I mean I can’t. If I let go of you I’m liable to keel over.”

The warmth of his body seeped through her clothing and spread through her like a wildfire. “I should get you back to bed.”

“Yes…yes, you should.” The inflection in his tone left no question as to the train of his thoughts.

“Not like that!” Why did he have to make this so hard?

He chuckled. “Suppose it might be a few days yet before I have that kind of energy.”

“Connor, this is ridiculous.” Lord, how was she expected to think with him holding her like this, talking like that. Like they had a chance. He must still be delirious from the fever. “I’m leaving town tonight.”

“Say it again.”

“Say what? That I’m leaving?” Was he so anxious for her to be gone that the very words gave him a thrill?

“No. Say what you did when you thought I was feverish and couldn’t hear.”

She hesitated. “I can’t.”

“Sure you can.” His warm breath made the skin on her neck tingle.

“Don’t make me.” She knew he could. Already her resistance was fading. The need to tell him what was in her heart pleaded to get out.

“I haven’t a mind to make you do anything you don’t want to, Kate. I just can’t shake the feeling that you do. So maybe I’ll just pester you ’til you admit to it.”

The tip of his tongue flicked out and pressed against her pulse, making it jump. “That’s not fair.”

He lifted his head and grinned at her. The fever had done nothing to dim the sparkle in his eye. “No, but is it effective?”

She pursed her lips. It was more than effective. It was downright sinful. The smallest of touches from him had a way of burning away her good sense to cinder and ash. And when he smiled at her, teased, the last of her wobbly defenses fell away.

“If I say the words, will you let me go?”

Connor started to nod, his grin spreading across his handsome features until it reached his eyes, making the blue sparkle as if sunlight poured directly into them. “Not on your life.”

“You don’t love me. You can’t.”

“I do, and I can. The only thing I can’t seem to do is help it.”

“You’ll stop loving me eventually,” she countered. “Look at who I am. What I’ve done.”

His fingertips lightly traced the curve of her cheekbone before he cupped the side of her face. She pressed her cheek into it, desperate for his touch.

“I know exactly who you are. I’ve thought of little else since you told me and I won’t lie to you—I’m not thrilled that you didn’t tell me straight out. But you were right. If I had known, I would have tossed you out on your pretty little behind that first night. And if I’d done that, I would have missed out on this.”

He kissed her, his lips warm and enticing, coaxing her with such tenderness she couldn’t stop the tears that squeezed out of the corner of her eyes.

Connor lifted his head, his gaze roaming over her face. “I’m not going to stop loving you. Not today, not tomorrow, not thirty years from now. I won’t promise it will be easy, but life rarely is. And I’m not denying we have a past to contend with, because we do. But I love you. And I don’t blame you for my brother’s death. Sometimes things just happen and nothing we do, or don’t do, can stop them. You did the best you could. And if Grant trusted you enough in the last moments of his life to send you here, well—” he shrugged with his good shoulder, “—then maybe in the grand scheme of things that’s just the way it was meant to be.”

“But Jenny—”

“Jenny loves you. And I already promised her I’d damn well bring you back, come Hell or high water.”

Katherine pulled away just far enough to fix a censuring glare on him. “You didn’t use those exact words?”

Confusion marred his handsome features. “Well…yes.”

“Connor Langston, you cannot be using that kind of profanity around an impressionable young girl! Especially now that she is talking non-stop.”

His smile tightened. “Well, perhaps if I had a wife to remind me of these things I’d do a far better job of remembering that.”

Katherine’s heart stumbled. “W-wife?”

He sighed. “Yes, wife. Why do you think I dragged my sorry ass out of bed to ask you to stay? I can’t countenance a contrary housekeeper, but I guess in a wife it could make things pretty interesting.”

The ground tilted beneath her and she looked around, expecting to find the landscape had changed. It hadn’t. The sun continued to shine. The wind continued to blow.

“What about the townspeople? What would they think?”

“It appears they all think you’re some kind of hero, leading Rogan out of the church the way you did. Besides, these people have been trying to marry me off since I arrived back in town. I’m sure they’ll be pleased as all get-out to hear I’m finally getting around to it. Now, will you marry me, or do I have to throw you over my shoulder like Walter Figg and drag you to the church kicking and screaming?”

Something shifted in her then. The fear of losing him, of his not loving her, turned from a solid lump in her stomach to vapors drifting away on the breeze.

Katherine laid her hands on Connor’s chest. “What happened to not making me do something I don’t want to do?”

“What happened to telling me you love me one more time?”

She smiled and looked up at him. Those three little words hardly seemed adequate enough to encompass the wealth of feeling she had for this man. But they were all she had. The rest she could show him in other ways. Her face warmed with anticipation.

“I love you.”

One corner of his mouth twitched. “I know.”

She lifted a hand to swat at his arrogance, but his mouth descended on hers and scattered her thoughts. Her hand came to rest gently against the side of his face, the prickly stubble of whiskers rough against her palm.

He broke the kiss and rested his forehead against hers, peering into her eyes. “I was thinking maybe we could find Will and see about changing that last name of yours to Langston.”

“Kate Langston,” she smiled and brushed her lips against his. “I like the sound of that.”

“I’m kind of partial to it myself,” Connor said, wrapping his arm around her and holding her tight. “I love you, Kate.”

“I love you, too,” she said, the words coming easy. “Now let’s find Reverend Sangster so you can take me home.”

Connor threw his head back and laughed. “And bossy too!”