Wanted (53 page)

He finally pulled away. “I have so damn little to offer you, Lori.”

“I don't care.”

“I do,” he said. He pulled far enough away so that he could look at her. “I'm a Ranger, Lori. The pay's poor. It's sufficient for a single man, and I have some money saved, but it's barely adequate for two. I'm gone most of the year. The life is hell on wives.” The last words were ragged, and Lori realized he had thought of this before. “Dammit, Rangers have no business marrying. Love, contentment takes away the edge. It gets them killed. It makes widows. I don't want that for you.”

Lori's happiness seeped away, and a chill started to replace the warmth inside. She knew she would accept any life with him. But could she endanger him? You can leave the Rangers, she wanted to say, but she couldn't. She knew him well now, knew how much the Texas Rangers were steeped in him. It wasn't just a job to him, it was who he was. She couldn't change such an elemental part of him. He would eventually hate her if she tried.

“We'll work it out,” she said fiercely. “Someway we will.”

Nick's words.
We'll work it out
. Morgan wondered whether he would ever have the same optimism the Braden clan had. He wanted to. God, how he wanted to. He wanted to think he and Lori had a future. Children. He closed his eyes as the image rambled around his mind with unexpected impact. A longing, deeper even than any he'd ever felt, stabbed through him like a jagged knife. Children with Lori. Children to raise as they should be. With love. Could he ever offer that? Love? Security? Safety?

Or would he leave orphans?

He felt the cry of pain deep in his throat. He wasn't aware, however, that it reached the air until he saw Lori's face, the mixture of compassion and grief and fear on it. Desperately, he reached for her, clasping her as a choking man struggling for air. She was that important to him now. As essential to him as breathing.

“I love you,” she whispered. “I'll never love anyone else like this. No matter what, I'll always love you.”

The words, instead of a balm, only deepened his agony. He felt ripped apart. He knew he should leave, leave now, but he couldn't, not when she was so near, not when she offered everything she had. He'd never known that kind of giving. He'd never been presented with a heart before, had never felt loved, wanted, and it was irresistible. He had been empty so long. So … alone. All his life.

Knowing he was doing the worst thing he'd ever done, the most despicable, he lowered his head and his lips met hers in mindless desperation. Her response was equally as desperate, as needy, and yet there was a sweetness in it he'd never felt before, in the way her lips gentled and her hands, her fingers, touched him. Physical need was there, it had always been there between them, but this was something so new and miraculous, so compelling, that he felt as if she had somehow reached inside and embraced his soul, wrapping his heart in tenderness and understanding. She loved him for what he was, what she knew him to be, and she told him that by not asking him to be something else.

We'll work it out
. For the first time he felt her optimism, shaded only by the residue of caution he feared would always be with him. How could anything this fine not be right, not be
meant?

And then her body was next to his, and even through their clothes, there was communion. He stopped thinking altogether. He was lost in those splendid eyes of hers, lost in the silkiness of her hair, the smoothness of her skin. He felt her fingers touch his face as if they were memorizing each plane, etching every part of him into her being. And then the two of them were sliding downward, to their knees, kneeling together as their lips met again, exchanging wonders.

He felt her hands against his skin as his shirt came off, then her dress, and his hands went under her chemise, touching the already erect, hard nipples. He went slowly this time, his hands loving, seducing until she cried out to him, and when he entered her, he knew a depth of feeling, of love, that he never knew existed.

It was exquisitely painful, so powerful were their reactions to each other, so tender as to make him weep inside. As they climbed to fulfillment, the physical sensations became so much more, a sharing of self and joy that magnified every tremor of pleasure until Morgan wondered how anyone could withstand such magnificence.

And then he understood exactly how much magnificence one could tolerate as the world he knew exploded and was replaced by a totally new shining one.

CHAPTER THIRTY

Thirty minutes after arriving at the El Paso headquarters of Morgan's Ranger company, Lori knew she would never underestimate Morgan again. She should have known he never would have suggested he could help Nick if he had not been sure in his mind that he could.

Ira Langford, captain of Morgan's company, was a laconic man whose eyes studied, weighed, and judged before he spoke, and even then his words were sparse. Like Morgan's. Lori wondered whether all Rangers were like that, and it was a sobering thought if she was ever to live among them.

It had been a long, fast, wearying journey from Pueblo, but unmarked by the hostility of the one through Colorado. There was, instead, a cautious companionship between Morgan and Nick, a growing trust that still had a long way to go to be complete. But where there had been dread before, there was hope waiting at the end of this trip.

They had left Pueblo two days after Lori's kidnapping and rescue. They had all needed rest, and Morgan had said Lori and Nick also needed time with their family, to accept and even heal from whatever wounds Fleur's revelation had caused.

Lori was no longer surprised by Morgan's sensitivity. He had always understood far more than either she or Nick had credited him; he'd just been very good at disguising it under that rough, protected exterior.

When Nick had told her about the harmonica, she'd wanted to cry. Morgan had not mentioned it to her, had just tried in his own singular way to give something to a man who might or might not accept him. It had been no peace offering, no bribe, just a simple act of caring.

She loved him so, and she ached for him. Since that night when he'd told her he loved her, he'd taken great pains to never be alone with her again. It wasn't fair, he said, not until everything was settled.

Beth was still in Pueblo. She would wait there with the other Bradens until Nick returned. She couldn't leave Maggie, and the Texas journey would be long, hot, and dangerous. Their new measure of faith in Morgan was reflected by the fact that both Nick and Beth said
when
he was free, they would marry. Not if.

There had been no question whether Lori would go. She had expected Nick to protest, and he had. She had expected Morgan to forbid it, and he hadn't. She didn't know whether it was because he knew she would follow anyway, or whether he had a reason of his own to take her. He still apparently found it difficult to explain his actions. But at night, after they ate the usual beans and bacon, he would hold her, and that was enough for the moment. Nick would play his new harmonica and watch them with apparent disinterest, still not entirely sure whether he should approve or not.

On the sixth day they reached a scattering of buildings. Both Morgan and Nick had shaved that morning, and their clothes were dusty. Their tastes ran in the same vein: dark-blue shirts, dark trousers, though as usual Morgan wore a hat pulled down low, and Nick scorned his. They were both wearing gunbelts, Morgan suggesting they were wise to do so while traveling this part of Texas, with the bounty hanging over them both.

Lori's heart couldn't help but sink within her as she looked around. This was Morgan's life, and it seemed terribly barren and lonely. The largest building was a barn. A corral outside held a number of horses, and a boy was pumping water into a trough. The boy turned, and he gave Morgan a wide smile; Morgan returned the smile, tipping his hat slightly in acknowledgment. Lori remembered Morgan telling her about taking care of horses as a boy, and she wondered why he wished to stay here, why this life was so ingrained in him.

She saw two men come out the door of a long building, stop and stare at Morgan and Nick, their eyes darting from one to another. “Morgan?” one said.

A gleam of devilment glowed in Morgan's eyes. “Yep,” he said. “And this is my brother, Nick.”

“Hell you say,” one of the men said, and then noticed Lori. “Beggin' your pardon, ma'am.” But then his gaze moved again between Nick and Morgan curiously. “Didn't know you had one.”

“Long story, Tommy. I'll tell you later. The captain in?”

“Yep, and he's in a right foul mood.”

“I think it might be a little more foul before I finish,” Morgan said.

“Dammit, Morgan, you're smiling.” The tone was pure astonishment.

“Am I?” Morgan asked. “I guess it's that damn fool expression on your face.”

The man chuckled. “Can't wait to see the captain's face when he sees you … the two of you. He hasn't stopped complaining since you left.”

“Trouble?”

“When ain't there?”

“Well, I brought him a little bit more.”

“Think I'll go for a nice long ride. Good seeing you, Morgan.” He tipped the edge of his hat to Lori. “Ma'am,” he acknowledged, and walked on.

Morgan chuckled as he turned to Nick. “I think we're in for a lot more of that.” He reached out. “Better give me your gun.”

Nick raised an eyebrow in question.

“Captain Ira's rather a stickler on some matters. You're still wanted at the moment.”

Nick shrugged. “I've trusted you this long, I guess.” He took out his gun and handed it to Morgan, who stuck it into his saddlebags. The three dismounted, Lori not waiting for Morgan's help. Anxiety was beginning to eat at her.

Morgan knocked once on the door of an adobe building.

“Come in, dammit,” a voice roared out, and Lori was beginning to understand where all Morgan's cussing came from. Morgan gave her a reassuring wink and opened the door, allowing Nick to go in first, his hand holding Lori back with him.

“Davis, goddammit. Where in the thunderation have you been? Should have been back weeks ago.” There was a stream of curses. “Lose my damn lieutenant when all hell is breaking loose.” Then a quieter, “Morgan?”

Morgan opened the door wider and sauntered in, letting Lori follow. “Nope, Captain, that's Nick. The man you know as Nicholas Braden.”

Lori saw the man lean over a desk, glaring at Morgan, then at Nick. “The man you went after? Damn.” Then, “I never would have believed it. He's the spitting image of you.”

“There's a reason, Ira.” Morgan's tone was soothing now, all the mischief gone. “He's my brother. My twin brother.”

The Ranger captain slowly sat down as he studied one man, then the other. Then his eyes saw Lori. “And who, if I can be so bold as to ask, is this?”

Morgan grinned, and the Ranger looked as astonished as the other man had. “She's his sister. Captain, Lorilee Braden. Lori, this is Captain Ira Langford.”

The captain ignored the introduction. “You want to explain this to me, Lieutenant? Slowly.”

Lori bit her lip. Morgan had never said he was a lieutenant in the Rangers. She realized again how little she knew about him, how much she still had to learn. Morgan motioned for Nick and her to sit, and they did as he prowled behind them like a restless jungle cat. “You know the story of how I was found.”

“Hell, everyone does. It's a damn legend around here, how you survived.”

“There was another woman, helping, when the Comanches attacked. She was never found.”

The Ranger captain nodded as Morgan continued. “She wasn't taken. There were twins, and she had taken one to a wagon when the attack started. The horses bolted, and she and the baby were thrown to the bottom of the wagon. The wagon broke up some distance away, and she was injured. But she saw flame and smoke rise from the cabin and thought everyone had died. She apparently walked and crawled, trying to keep away from the Comanches, and a medicine wagon picked her up two days later. She'd lost her own baby not long before, still had milk and believed the baby was, well, fated to be hers.”

The Ranger's eyes moved over to Nick, studying every feature.

“We have the same birthmark, Ira. A half heart on the bottom of our feet. My right, his left.”

The Ranger captain nodded. “Even if you didn't … I don't think there would be much doubt. Yet you brought him back.” His eyes were questioning.

“He came back. Willingly.” Morgan stopped pacing and leaned over Ira's desk, placing both hands there. “He saved my life, Ira. Not once, but several times, even before he knew … that I was his brother, even when he had every reason to want me dead. He's not a killer, Ira, and I need your help to prove it.”

An odd smile wrinkled the captain's stern face. “I've known you twenty years, Morgan, and this is the first time you've ever asked for help.” He looked back down at his desk through a pile of posters and papers and drew out one. He read it slowly, and Lori knew it must be the one with Nick's face on it. Morgan's face, too.

He turned to Nick. “What happened?”

Nick told him. The captain's gaze never left Nick's face as he haltingly told the events of that night.

“This has been a hell of a nuisance,” Ira Langford said. “You know Morgan was ambushed twice before he went after you.”

Nick smiled dryly. “He reminded me several times while he was dragging me across Colorado.”

The Ranger captain looked bemused. “Must have been an interesting trip. But what in the hell took you so long?”

“I was shot,” Morgan said.

Ira Langford looked quickly back at Nick. “I thought you said …”

Morgan hesitated, his eyes quickly warning Lori. “Bounty hunters. Whitey Stark and some friends. Made it real interesting for a while.”