The Bounty Hunter's Heart Read online

  "You were right to feed them. It's dangerous out there in that storm for them, and they go hungry. I've been known to feed them myself."

  "I suspected as much. They seemed to know where the feeder was. Is there anything else I should know about the wildlife around here?"

  "I've been known to feed the deer and elk, too."

  "I can't say that I'm surprised. There's a reason you had no problem taking me in. Do you feed any stray who wanders along, or are you discriminatory?"

  "Apparently not too picky. I mean, look at you." Humor warmed her words and, in them, approval. "Since I'm close to town, I get a lot of relatives stopping by when a blizzard is blowing in and they can't make it home, so I'm used to having company, but I've made a mistake in letting you in. Talk about riffraff. A raccoon would be more quality."

  "It's true. And I'm not even that hairy."

  "Right, I don't know what I was thinking in letting you stay. Look at you, recovering just fine. I hate to think what would have happened if I hadn't stumbled across you."

  It was so little, the kindness and caring he would allow himself to accept from her, and it felt like too much. Teasing was simpler, and he could clearly see what she was doing, just as he was, hiding the truth behind humor and false words. Winn's throat closed tight, making it awfully hard to go for another dinner roll, so he grabbed his coffee mug instead. That hot, steaming and sweet sip was a balm to the hurt in his chest, right where his heart was beating.

  "You need me," she teased, "so you have to stay."

  "Stay?" He shivered. "I don't think I can ever get used to this type of cold. Not different from Dakota, or Canada where I'm likely to be tracking Brant."

  "Canada, really? If you're heading north, then you're going the wrong way for gentler and warmer weather, even the emotional meaning of it. Everyone knows going to Canada will be a lot colder than staying here in Montana Territory, where you're welcomed."

  "I am aware of that, so I have plans to get used to this frigid weather." His heart had softened enough and, no longer hidden, the core of the man he was showed and he bowed his head, closing off those fears and the knowledge of the hardship and hard road to come.

  He cleared his throat, set down his cup and grabbed another dinner roll. "For a while, when we were first on the run and on the road, I thought about circling back south, figured maybe if I kept moving anonymously that after enough time no one would be able to find me and Brant and his buddies would give up or, more likely, be brought in for other reasons. Impossible to go into hiding on my own and not with such good trackers tracking me, but I had the wild hope that Jack and I could hide somewhere, eventually settle down someplace remote and I could live a quiet life. Not the best of choices, but not the worst by far seeing that I could raise Jack and be there for him for the rest of my life. That I wouldn't be leaving him alone, the way I had been left as a child. But, that was just wishful thinking. The men are too brutal."

  His hands seemed steadier, making it easier to pop the last bite of roll into his mouth and risk looking at her.

  "I wish you could consider my offer and let me help you. I wish there could be a way for you to find what you want." She went to push away from the table, and he hopped up to help her with her chair. "I want that future for you and for Jack. After being a boy growing up alone, you deserve the chance to raise your own son and to have a family around you, a family who loves you."

  A plea gleamed in her true blue eyes, one of longing on his behalf, of understanding and one of hurt for him. Sorrow for him shadowed her as she tipped her head to the side to gaze up at him and as her gaze sank more deeply into his, he felt the click of connection in his heart from hers to his, and the weighty burdens he'd been carrying around, some over a lifetime, lifted from his weary heart. He tugged out the chair, holding out his hand, and when her fingers wrapped around his this time, his heart forgot to beat, time stood still and he lost the iron bars guarding his self control. She stood up and he cupped her petal-soft face with both of his hands.

  22

  She was silk and woman, true and rare and he never thought he'd ever feel like this. Her eyes sparkled up at him, glittering rich and real. Then, somehow, his mouth settled on hers with need and desire, oh, how he wanted her so he kissed her with all of his might. She tasted like sweet sugar, sweetened coffee and perfect desire, smelled like lilacs and dinner rolls, and was heaven in his arms, like nothing he'd ever known before, so pure and true, so sweet and perfect.

  Since he didn't intend to let her get away until he was finished, he wound his fingers through her hair, spanning the back of her head with one hand and laving her mouth open, and he groaned. She was warm, willing woman and responsive, daring to lave her tongue along his when he plunged past her velvety lips to surge into her mouth. Soft and warm, and the gentle moan that escaped her throat and became part of their kiss made lust roar through his bloodstream and his pulse thud in his ears. Need pumped through his groin at the intimacy of the kiss. Need for more thundered through him. Her kiss was warm velvet and silken passion, and the sweet tip of her tongue brushed his, slow like summer sunset and luscious as star shine on a perfect night.

  He splayed one hand against the small of her back and pressed her against him, so that her soft, round breasts pillowed his chest and the slight curve of her stomach trapped his hard shaft between them. He was erect, aching and thrumming. A deep instinct speared through him, arrow swift and blade sharp, and he was falling off the edge of control, utterly lost. So he wrapped his arms tight around her and crushed her harder to him. When she moaned in pleasure and excitement, he lost the last grip he had on control, lost all rational thought and every bit of common sense, drowning in her. There was only the taste of her kiss, the scent of her skin, the forbidden press of her body against his, and with the way she leaned into him and surrendered to him, she wanted this too. She was not pushing him away, she did not say stop and that felt like a gift.

  Heart thundering, he backed her the few short steps to the hallway where the dark shadows hid them and would disguise the sounds of their combined excitement. Warm air from the stove fanned against him and warmed his back, and he grew hotter with every breathless moan and heartbeat of their kiss, and when she gently and brazenly captured his bottom lip between both of hers and gently sucked, his knees nearly gave out. Blind with desire for her, his hand stroked down the elegant line of her neck to the hollow of her throat. Her pulse fluttered beneath his fingertips as he unhooked the first button at her collar.

  Her pulse fluttered faster and harder against his fingertips as he released the next button and then the third. Wool fell away to reveal her soft skin that tasted like warmed cream. Unable to resist her, his mouth found the hollow there, where her collarbones met, where her heartbeat galloped because of him and he pressed a kiss there, tasting her skin on his lips. There was no need to worry she didn't feel the same way as her body softened, became more pliant, yielding to him as he slid one hand beneath the lace edge of her corset to cup her breast.

  She filled his hand with heat, wonder and forbidden softness. He felt the warm texture of her nipple firm up against his palm and harden into an aroused pebble as he gave the round globe of her breast a squeeze. A groan escaped him, a surprised, raw sound that let him know how far gone he was, completely lost in her. The rasp died in his throat and the thunder pounding through his head eased enough for him to get a rational thought in. Was this a good idea? He wisely eased his hand out of her corset and away from the heated silk of her breast before he could grab that sweet pearled nipple between his lips and kiss.

  Not easy to back away, but he did it with need drumming through every inch of his bloodstream, making his shaft even harder. He gritted his teeth against the driving, keen instinct demanding completion, for mating, for physical release. Resolved, with his brain growing clearer, he took a step away from her and dragged in a deep breath. There. Raging instincts under control.

  Saydee looked better for the wear, mor
e lovely with desire making her apple cheeks rosy and putting desire and life like a sparkle of light into her eyes. Her blond hair had fallen from its artful knot to tumble in tangled abandon around her face and exposed throat. With her head tipped back slightly in surrender, she lifted a hand to push the tendrils and curls out of her eyes, her exposed chest and creamy cleavage rising and falling with shallow breaths. She stared at him, full of desire, and made his shaft jump. Man, he wanted her. Did he. But it wasn't going to happen. It couldn't, and that saddened him. He read that knowledge in her eyes. She was sad, too.

  He took a moment, gathered his breath and hoped he could find the right words to fix whatever he'd done here. "Obviously I got a little carried away."

  "Carried away?" Her hand covered her exposed cleavage, and either amusement or disbelief furrowed across her forehead.

  "Can you blame me? You're a beauty, Saydee. You've grown up to be an incredible woman. You don't know what you do to me."

  His own lack of control troubled him. He fisted his hands and swung away from the sight of the tops of her breasts lifting and falling with her every breath. He could still feel the warmth of that pebbled nipple against his palm and the heated silken softness of her full breast.

  Instead of going back to kneading her and caressing her with his hands until she gave into him, craving more, he forced his feet to carry him back into the eating nook and into the bright sheen of lamplight that made the backs of his eyes sting. He wanted her that much.

  Saydee followed him into the light, working her three buttons back into place, although her fingers trembled at the task. "You don't know what you do to me, Winn McMurphy."

  Her soft voice felt like a brush of feeling, a stroke of hue and color that matched the feel of his. He reached for his empty plate and the cups before she could. "I don't know how we go on as if this didn't happen, but it can't and won't happen again. I give you my word on it."

  "Is that so?" She watched him walk around the table and behind the counter. In the full brush of the lamplight, she looked vulnerable and fragile and so small and dear with her tousled hair and kiss-swollen lips. "Can I ask you a question?"

  "Sure." He set the dishes into the basin and reached for the soap, ready for anything, knowing she had the right to lash into him for behaving so rashly and hoping beyond hope she didn't want more of that because he did, too.

  "Why did you stop?" Her thin, vulnerable voice wobbled in the air. "I mean, you had to notice that I didn't ask you to stop. You know that I'm not a loose or immoral woman, and I know I'm not pretty, but, well, please don't think badly of me, I've just been too lonely, that's all." She gestured helplessly with one hand. "I suppose that sounds even worse, sorry about that, I shouldn't have mentioned it."

  She blushed bright red and whipped around, leaving him in the kitchen alone and whispered down the hallway into the shadows.

  He couldn't call out after her or he would wake up Jack. "Saydee?" Whispering didn't help, because she kept going toward the deep darkness of the hallway. The wind gusted, beating the window and siding like a speeding freight train and the sound drown out the pad of his footsteps taking him closer to her, where golden lamplight glowed through the darkness, chasing it back and made this cozy eating area of her kitchen feel like a respite, the safe haven of his dreams. His long-legged pace was quick enough that he caught the edge of her bedroom door before she could push it closed. "Saydee?"

  "Oh! You startled me." She tugged the door back open, breathless, eyes wide open with surprise. She blushed. "Maybe I shouldn't have darted away like that. Is there something you need from the kitchen? Did you get enough to eat? Oh, I am babbling on. I think I'm nervous or embarrassed. Probably both."

  Her mouth still flamed from his long, deep kiss. Her breast tingled, swollen and overheated from his touch and she ached for more. He'd kindled a fire in her and seeing him again added fuel. How did she hide her desire for him, her hunger? She wanted more than a few breast squeezes and strokes, his cupping her wasn't enough. It just wasn't, and it left her feeling ashamed. What was wrong with her?

  "You don't need to be nervous or feel embarrassed around me." He propped one shoulder against the open door. "I don't know what kind of man you think I am, but I'm unyieldingly and thoroughly decent. I didn't mean to disrespect you."

  "I don't think you did, although technically it would be seen that way by any member of my family who found out about it." She backed away as if she were aware that he still wanted to touch her. "I know you're a good man, Winn, a very good man."

  His throat worked. She gasped in surprise and desire when he closed the short distance and curled his hand around her elbow. "Why do I lose control when I'm around you?"

  "I don't know. I've wondered the same thing." It was easy to see the good in him. Her hand moved of its own will and splayed against his whiskery jaw and met his gaze, looking into his world-weary eyes. "What are we going to do about this thing happening between us?"

  "I wish I knew, but I don't have the answer." He leaned his cheek into her hand and instead of moving away from her, he pulled her into his arms and held him tight. He felt like warmed granite and living man, such a wonder, and she wrapped her arms around his back and held on tight.

  Oh, it felt good when he rested his chin on top of her head, lightly and yet just perfect. Every tense place within her and every spot in her heart aching with loneliness eased. She closed her eyes, savoring the sensation, wishing she could hold him forever and never let go, to know he was always safe, and to give him more than a kiss and a long, well-meant embrace. She wished she was strong enough and talented enough to keep him safe, to give him back the peace he'd lost in his life, not to mention the home and a good life. She wished she could be part of his future.

  When he spoke, his rum-rich voice rumbled through her. "Here I am, doing what I shouldn't. Once again, I just couldn't help myself."

  "Notice how I'm not complaining? And I should be."

  "I can't believe you're letting me, but thank you. That meant a lot to me." When he released her, regret etched into the corners of his eyes, drawing darkness there. "You are flawless, Saydee, you are absolutely perfect. I can't believe you are not married, that some smart man hasn't swept you off your feet and married you."

  "So, you're back to using false flattery, are you?"

  "No, it's just the truth. You are beautiful and incredible and desirable and if I could, I would want to stay right here and try to be the man you might want."

  "But you might already be."

  Her confession appeared to shock him because he didn't move or even breathe. The lamplight she lit before he'd come through the door now burned bright enough to caress his thick, dark wind-tousled hair, that still glistened with just a few melted drops from flakes of snow, and he straightened the line of his rock-hard shoulders. The silence thick between them seemed unnaturally loud as her heart raced.

  Perhaps she shouldn't have opened up so honestly to him. It didn't come naturally, this sensation of cracking her heart open, even just a little gaping door to let her vulnerability show. What would he think of her? Desperate and lonely? Or inexplicably taken and attracted to the handsome man who'd impressed her so much?

  Then he tugged her back into his arms and held her so tight, she didn't dare breathe. And she didn't doubt his heart was opened up a bit, too.

  * * *

  Oh, being held by him had felt so good. Even though he'd simply walked away, after politely kissing her on the forehead first, wishing her a good night, she'd scarcely been able to fall asleep. She'd just felt too awake, as if she could not close up her heart again.

  So she was dragging when morning dawned and the house radiated with intense cold from the fresh snow outside. But she hardly noticed it as she padded down the hallway to the kitchen, letting the lamplight guide her into the eating area, where Winn's bed was neatly made up, coffee scented the air and wonderful heat radiated from the kitchen stove. Not only that, she felt toasty inside, snu
g feeling from being held close last night.

  How had he done it? How had he given her a hug, holding her close, and quieted all her hurt at the same time? It wasn't just circumstance or convenience that made his closeness not only charged but singular. He needed her help, he needed shelter and they both knew that, but this feeling lay far above that. And it wasn't as if this could go very far. Look how he'd flattered her with that outrageous compliment. She tried not to let that affect her because she was, after all, rather ordinary and her mother had always said plain.

  After all, she could look in a mirror and clearly see the fine lines time and loss had drawn on her face. She was too short, too shy and too average. But for the first time in a long time, she hadn't felt like plain old Saydee and last night Winn had inspired that. He'd made her feel special and he thought she was beautiful and wistfully she'd rather adored him for that moment. Her steps tapped lightly, echoing in the hall, and she smiled as she swept into the kitchen area.

  Both lamps in the eating area had been lit, but only one in the kitchen brightening up the counter with a cozy glow. Her heart warmed, grateful for Winn, who looked up from his work behind the counter where he was stirring something with a wooden spoon. "Good morning, Saydee, you're up early."

  "Yes, it is a good morning seeing you cooking away. What are you doing in my kitchen, Mr. McMurphy?" She skirted the counter, moving toward him. "You look at home here, and I'm not used to having a man getting his hands on my best mixing bowl."

  "What can I say? I couldn't resist. I just couldn't control myself. First thing I know, I see this beautiful bowl and my hands just grab hold of it." He winked, not quite saucy, but enough that she knew what he was talking about.

  Her face flushed, and her nipples pebbled. "You're forgiven, considering the outcome. You have a good touch."

  Her gentle teasing made him blush and he gave the spoon a final stir. "I didn't expect to see you up yet. Here I went and planned on having breakfast ready about the time you came down that hall the last few mornings."