The Bounty Hunter's Heart Read online

  He unbuttoned, throbbing and heavy because of her, and his shaft sprang free. He grinned as he watched Saydee's eyes widen at the sight of him fully naked. Her kiss-swollen mouth parted just enough to drive him crazy and desire punched through him hard enough to make him momentarily stunned and blind. He blinked and watched her stretch out onto her back. He caught her mouth in a desperate kiss, all passion and need, and in an instant he was between her thighs, the eager tip of his shaft nudging inside her silken petals, where she was damp and eager to take him in. He clenched his jaw as he sank into her tightness, trying to go slow but she gripped his lower back and pulled him deeper into her, inch by slow inch.

  "Oh, you feel fantastic," she breathed, rasping against his kiss, eyes glazed, and with joy in her voice, in her smile. Golden curls tumbled everywhere, and her mouth opened against his as she moaned once and then twice, as he thrust hilt-deep.

  "Fantastic," he murmured against her lips. "It's a lot better than that."

  "True." There were no words, just none at all, to describe the rapture. Craving more, she lifted her hips and started rocking against him before he could set the rhythm, so he let her do it, taking the pleasure she gave to him, all tight, heated silk and passion gripping his shaft so hard, that he, tendons straining, fought his body's urgent demands. He held back, but each and every thrust brought a new level of intense pleasure.

  Tenderness, stronger than the hot desire striking through him, broke in his heart. She cried out, his beautiful passionate woman, and her release ignited his. Pleasure fired through every bit of him, and he cried out, lost, just lost in the sweet painful pleasure that wrung him out completely and, finally spent, left him weak and unable to move. She gave a contented sigh, gazing up at him with sweat dampening her forehead and her long, golden hair tousled, and her smile, heart-deep, did not fade when he leaned in to kiss her gentle and sweet. So sweet.

  "You are perfect." Her fingertips brushed his face, settling against the hard line of his jaw. She made him feel treasured and he couldn't thank her enough for that, or make love to her enough. But he stretched out over her, his body on top of hers, determined to try.

  35

  Saydee's eyes fluttered open, waking up feeling warm and sated, not to mention naked. A grin traveled across her kiss-swollen mouth, burrowing more deeply into the soft muslin sheets, still tingling from a second session of lovemaking. Her entire body grew warm and heated, throbbing at the memory and the desire for more. She'd never known that making love could be such a rare pleasure. But as she reached out for him, she felt the cold sheet next to her. Where was he?

  Silence met her ears. The storm had blown out. Faint, nearly non-existent starlight teased at the edge of the curtains. Then Uncle Stan's snore split the stillness, loud enough to echo against the walls in their room. At least, he'd slept soundly through whatever faint noise they'd made, that was good news, right? Her body felt warm and wet from their lovemaking, and as she pushed back the covers and reached for her clothes, her heart broke with the knowledge she dared not face and knew she would.

  She pulled on her drawers and tugged her rumpled nightgown on over her head. The soft flannel shivered into place over her sensitized skin and she risked a peek out the window. The snow had stopped and the clouds hung low, cold and gray, with only a small break to hint at the platinum stars above. A board squeaked beneath her foot as she circled around the bed. She stopped at the bureau, startled by her reflection in the looking glass, surprised by the woman he'd made her into being. Why, there was a satisfied cast to her face and a bit of starlight in her eyes, a light which had not been there before. It was amazing the difference a good man's love could make.

  She would never stop adoring him. Not one day would go by without her love for him burning and never going out. Holding her heart still, she tugged open the bedroom door and the faint burn of a lamp on low glowed on the polished wood floor lighting the way. The eating area of the kitchen was empty, although a lamp burned on the counter where Uncle Stan and Jack had emptied the cookie jar after supper. Her step echoed in the stillness and panic speared through her. Had he left already? But what about saying good-bye? Another step took her into the brush of lamplight where the steadiness of his presence drew her gaze like a magnet.

  Winn. Warmth filled her, for he was strength and humor, honor and might, and she couldn't move another step for the infinite affection filling her up.

  Standing in the kitchen in the shadows behind the counter he gave her a smirk that made her senses spin. "Sleeping Beauty woke up. You have to know I won't leave without saying goodbye to you."

  She swallowed hard, tamping down a wealth of emotion. How she felt, her sorrow, her lost wishes, her broken heart, was not the issue here. He was. She drew in a slow, steadying breath. "You look like you've made coffee."

  "That's right. That means my coffee crock is full, piping hot and ready to go. Just like I am, except for one last thing."

  "Jack?"

  "I already snuck upstairs to tell him and Pete goodbye." He strode around the end of the counter, crock in hand, padding toward her, his lone wolf pace breath-stealing and his dark eyes shadowed with regret. "You'll have to apologize and say goodbye to your aunt, uncle and cousin for me. As for you, I'd like to carry you down the hall, lay you out on that bed, and do whatever it takes to make you come like that again." He set the crock on the table's edge and pulled her to his chest.

  "There's something I would like," she confessed with a smile.

  His mouth claimed hers with a branding heat. On a moan, she opened to the slow caress of his tongue. His kiss intoxicated her, made her wish it would never end, that they were made for one another. What if they did belong together? What would her life be like if he could stay?

  But he lifted his lips from hers with regret in his eyes. He shrugged one shoulder. "If I keep kissing you, then I'll never leave."

  Pain gathered in her chest and she nodded. She would do anything for him, and that included letting him go. "I'm going to miss you."

  "You have no idea how much I'm going to miss you." His voice sounded raw and gravelly. "Remember me, Saydee."

  "As if I have a choice. I'll never forget you." Tears blurred her eyes, and it took all her strength to keep from grabbing onto him. She wanted to drag out their last minutes together, to touch and kiss him, to make love to him until time lost all meaning. Or, she at least wanted to take him back to bed and make love one last time.

  But he tore his gaze away from hers and glanced toward the shadows, where the kitchen door beckoned. He straightened his shoulders. "You might be all I think about as I ride away. Forcing my feet to carry me out that door just might be the most difficult thing I've ever done."

  "Letting you do so might be mine." She wished she could do more for him. She had no way to comfort him and she was helpless to protect him from whatever waited him out there on his journey. "I don't want you to go."

  "You're not alone with that wish."

  She opened her mouth to say more, but there was no way to put into words what she felt. They would never have more time, never be able to spend a lifetime together. His eyes grew dark, as if he felt that truth too, and when he kissed her, open-mouthed and deep, she felt the hint of the great passion they could have had one last time. When he pulled back, taking his lips from hers, she felt him withdraw even as he took another step into the shadows.

  A muscle jumped in his jaw, and he looked as hard as stone. Her heart twisted at the pain on his face and the regret. "I'm having a problem making my boots take me to the door."

  "So I see." She rubbed the heel of her hand over her sternum, but it didn't ease the pain. "I really don't want you to go."

  "It's not my choice." He could not turn away from her, following the brush of the lamplight that caressed her face and danced like liquid gold in her hair. "I would stay forever if I could."

  "I know, and I would let you." Tears glinted like silver in her eyes. "If you gave me the chance, you're the ma
n I would love forever."

  "Do it anyway, please." He laid his forehead against hers so they were eye to eye, heart to heart. "Just remember, this is for Jack."

  He felt her tremble, and a tear tracked down her cheek. Her fingers curled around his as if holding on for life. "He is a good reason to go. He's worth my life."

  Another tear trailed down her cheek and she could only nod. She knew better than to point out that he was still recovering from the gunshot wound the man hunting him had given him. Her heart hurt so hard it felt like it was shattering for the last time. She could do nothing for this man she loved more than she could ever say. "What if some bounty hunter or outlaw catches you? What if they are laying in wait for you on the road?"

  "I'll just have to outsmart them." Determination drew him up, made him harder and stronger. "My chances of making it through this alive aren't good, but I'm doing this for the right reason, and it matters."

  No words came, and she wished she could hold him. But he wasn't hers to keep.

  "At least I don't need to worry about my son growing up to be happy and loved." His voice dipped with feeling. "I know he will be."

  "I can promise you that."

  "And I'll be grateful to you for the rest of eternity."

  Saydee resisted the need to lay her hand on the center of his chest and lean her head against his shoulder. The silence between them filled up with all they could not say as the mantel clock ticked the minutes away and upstairs Uncle Stain's snoring returned, a high, plugged-up nasal sound that tugged up the corners of Winn's mouth, and for one moment it was easy to forget that he was a condemned man. Nothing could change that, not the power of her love or the faint silvered starlight that darkly laid a path to the door.

  It was time to go. Saydee blinked hard, eyes burning, to hold back the tears as his boots padded on the floor. With determination hard on his face, he unhooked his coat from the wall peg and tugged it on. The wonderful sweetness of his love stuck with her, clinging like a piece of her heart, as she watched him button up and handed him the coffee crock.

  "Thank you, Saydee."

  "I wish I could do more for you." She gazed up at him, and he couldn't resist pulling her into him one last time. Her hair caught on his unshaven jaw, and he closed his eyes and just breathed her in. "You have the saddle bag I packed for you, don't you?"

  "Yes, all that food and thoughtful things for the trail, and I've even got a change of warm clothes thanks to you. It's all waiting in the barn with my horse." He brushed a kiss against her forehead because he couldn't bear to hold it back any longer. He held them tight, his love and light, and the pain and grief of losing her was a sharp-toothed bear caged in his chest. He didn't know a man could hurt this much and still live, but, sure enough, his heart kept on beating.

  "You take care of yourself, okay, Winn McMurphy." She tilted her eyes back to gaze up at him with a gaze brimming full of regard and not just tears. "You are my true love, Winn, and you always will be."

  Word failed him, and he couldn't find a way to tell her what he felt for her was as endless as the sky and as rare as legend. Her love had saved him. But if he told her that, how would he ever find the willpower to leave her? All he could do was to pull her against him and kiss her one last time. She was sweetness and desire, heaven and passion, and she clung to him truly, afraid to let him leave, and he wanted the kiss to last forever, so he didn't have to go. But he tore his mouth from hers, even if nearly broke him, even if he was breathless with desire. He didn't allow himself the hope that they could have forever, for there was no possible way.

  "If I don't get going and force myself to do it, then I never will. I'm always going to wish we'd had more time together." He kissed her forehead one final time, breathing in her lilac and sweet woman scent before he turned away.

  "Don't forget me, Saydee," he said, on his way out the door. "Goodbye."

  "Goodbye, Winn." Across the shadows their eyes met, and he became a blur as hot tears filled her eyes.

  He kept walking, and the door shut tight with a final click. Saydee rocked on her feet, physically reeling from the pain of him leaving. She blinked harder, to keep the endless tears from taking over. She fisted her hands and tried not to acknowledge all that he'd come to mean to her, that in losing him she was dying inside, the light in her heart fading away, and nothing would ever feel right again, not without him to love. She bowed her head, wishing with all her might to hold him in her arms again knowing they were destined to be empty now.

  A soft, watery intake of breath startled her, and she whirled around to see a little boy's shadow give one sniffle in the dark shadows out of reach of the lamp's light, the sound agonizing and lost, so lost. He gave a little gasp in the attempt to clear his throat. "Pa's left for good."

  "I know, Jack." Saydee's heart might be broken, but it was nothing compared to the child's loss.

  "I sure am gonna miss him." He gave a watery sigh. Pete ambled up, toenails faintly clicking on the hardwood, to nose the boy's hand in comfort.

  Sympathy filled her heart, and she felt useless to fix his grief. "Do you want to watch your pa leave out the window? This has a better view than from your room."

  Jack nodded. He trembled with heartbreak and the chill in the air as he shuffled over to the window. Pete padded alongside him, determined to keep him company.

  "I can warm up some milk for you," Saydee offered. "Or I can make hot cocoa. Aunt Peg says hot chocolate can soothe anything."

  "No, thank you, Miss Saydee." His voice sounded so small. He pulled back the edge of the curtain and gave a small sigh. The clock in the parlor tolled once to proclaim the hour, and upstairs Uncle Stan's snoring quieted into an intermittent long drawn out snort leaving momentary silence in its wake. The boy leaned against the wooden sill to gaze out the window, his full attention focused on the roadway at the edge of the lawn and the barn door.

  With no cocoa to prepare, she felt at a loss, not knowing what else to do for the kid. She remembered very well how it had felt to watch her ma walk away from her at the orphanage, so she had a guess as to how Jack might be hurting. She watched the boy go up on tiptoe.

  "There's Pa now. He's leaving. He's riding away."

  Saydee knew exactly how much Jack was hurting. So she remained where she was, giving the child the privacy he needed and the whole window to himself to watch every second of his father riding away into the dark, likely as shadowed as the night, and she did her best to bury her own heartbreak.

  And failed.

  "Oh, he's gone. I can't see him anymore." The boy let the curtain fall back into place. His head stayed bowed and he sniffed hard, just once, but tears swam, pooled in his eyes. "I won't cause you any problems. I promised my pa, and I'm a man of my word just like he is."

  "So I see." She didn't know how to bridge the loss that cooled the air between them like a winter wind. And their lives would never be the same now, always a part of winter, a part of grief. "Where are you going?"

  "Up to bed. Goodnight, ma'am, and come on, Pete, come on, boy."

  Pete tossed her an apologetic look, as if asking her to understand, but the boy needed his comfort. The shepherd paced alongside the boy, escorting him through the brush of lamplight and back into the shadows where they disappeared, now and then hovering like ghosts of movement darker than the shadows. The stairs squeaked just a bit beneath their footsteps as they disappeared upstairs. Uncle Stan's snoring came to a sputtering end, and the house echoed with silence.

  And loss.

  * * *

  Winn shivered, the wee hours of the morning far too cold for both him and the horse on this moonlight night, but the gelding was intrepid on the snow-drifted roads and they'd left Saydee's house far behind. The jagged mountain peaks stared down at him, so near they dominated the sky and blotted out all but a few of the stars peering out from between thick black clouds. Looked like his reprieve would continue. No snow yet, so he kept going.

  It wasn't just the sure death of trave
ling in the wilderness between towns and settlements that troubled him if another early season blizzard struck, but it was also the human type of predators that might be lying in wait up on the mountain pass ahead. That was the way Brant had found him on his way to find Saydee, by hiding and waiting in the night's shadows on a deserted road just like this and trailing him into town. Alone like this, he made a good target for the ambitious outlaw and his thirst for revenge.

  The hair on the back of his neck stood up on end, prickling. Maybe it was just the icy wind, he reasoned, but when he heard the not-so-distant coyote howl, an eerie, echoing loneliness of a cry, he laid one gloved hand on the butt end of his Winchester rifle, loaded and ready and tucked conveniently in its saddle holster. The gelding sensed it too, pausing in his steady pace to lift his nose, arch his neck and scent the sideways wind. The horse sidestepped, not liking what he found.

  "Neither do I, boy." He patted the horse's neck, grim. The deep snow wasn't the only risk. He pressed the gelding forward, following the tracks left by a teamster's runner-mounted wagon, deep and dependable tracks, easy to follow in the reigning dark.

  The thickening forest around them made it hard to see trouble lurking for them, but he kept going as the road sloped upward. He squinted up the steepening incline and noticed a cliff jutting upward, looming over them on one side and the steep, falling away sloping mountainside on the other. One misstep would mean death. And it was a heck of a long roll down to the forest below. Yep, this ought to get interesting.

  Every instinct he had twanged like a violin string, but there was no going back. With the light snow falling, his tracks from Saydee's home, miles away now, were covered, lost to Brant or anyone else working with the outlaw. So, he had no choice but to keep going. He knocked snow off his hat and leaned forward in the saddle. The gelding's ears pricked and his whole body tensed, and Winn pulled his rifle from its holster. The back of his neck was tingling.