Tucker's Claim. Sarah McCarty

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СКАЧАТЬ smiled automatically. “Not a bit.”

      She didn’t smile back.

      “I do not want thee to take offense, but…” She licked her lips. “I must ask…”

      No doubt she wanted to caution him to be gentle. Women always seemed obligated to ask that, as if he weren’t aware of his size and the harm he could do. “What?”

      “It occurs to me that a man like thee might already have a woman.”

      Shit. He’d rather she’d ask him to be gentle than to be insulting him. “If I did, I wouldn’t be out here kissing you.”

      She shook her head, causing moonlight to dance off the crown of braids wrapped around her head as the strings to her white cap danced about her shoulders. He wanted to pull those hairpins out so that heavy swathe of hair spilled like sunlight, brightening the darkness around them.

      “I don’t mean to insult thee. It’s just not my way to cause another pain.”

      He knew that about her, but it annoyed the hell out of him that she didn’t know the same about him. Then again, why should she? To her, he was a means to an end. “Then you can stop worrying. No one’s expecting me anywhere.”

      Except Ari, Caine’s sister-in-law, either dead or held prisoner somewhere out there. But until he received a response to his latest query, he didn’t have a lead to follow so he had no choice other than to stay put.

      Sally Mae reached up, cuddling the softness of her breasts into the hardness of his chest. His hand fell naturally to the small of her back, supporting her. There were definitely compensations to staying put. “Except me.”

      “Except you.”

      He shook his head, feeling her shiver when the ends of his hair f licked across her forearms as her fingers linked behind his neck. She was very sensitive to him. “I’ll be waiting for you at the woods straight off the back door.”

      “But what if someone—”

      He put his fingers over her lips. “No one’s going to see me unless I want to be seen, but you’re not to walk in the woods at night by yourself.”

      “I have done it many times. Two nights ago, in fact.”

      “I know.”

      She frowned. “Thee watched?”

      “I kept guard.”

      Her smile caressed his fingertips. “Thee always watch over me.”

      “I owe you.”

      She went still against him again.

      “What?”

      Her hands slid down to his shoulders. “Thee are not planning on being with me tonight because thee feel obligated?”

      Only a woman could come to that conclusion. “Moonbeam, I’m not that nice a guy.”

      The mischief came back to her smile. “Good.”

      It was foolish. Someone could come out any second, and the one thing he never was, was foolish. But when Sally looked at him like that—part seductress, part challenge—he lost all sense of civilization. Yanking her into his arms, he kissed her with all the hunger she roused—hard enough to bruise, hard enough to leave an impression. And when he let her go, she swayed, her gray eyes glazed over with the same passion tearing through him. Hell, when he finally got her to himself, they were going to set the grass on fire.

      Touching his finger to the kiss-swollen center of her bottom lip, he drew it away from her teeth, revealing the moist inner lining. He licked his lips, savoring her taste. Tonight he’d know what she tasted like all over. Tucking his finger under her chin, he lifted her face to his.

      “Don’t make me wait too long.”

      Sally stood in front of her mirror, studying her reflection. Tucker McCade was waiting for her out in the woods. The illicit thrill that went through her was very much out of place, but exciting. Staring at the mirror, she wondered what he saw in her. She was a plain woman with plain ways, wearing a plain dress. She had nothing frilly under her dress, such as the saloon girls wore to entice a man. No fancy scents to please his senses. She was just Sally Mae Schermerhorn, widow of Jonah Schermerhorn, mother to none, daughter to none. A woman who’d come west in the hope of finding the sense of belonging that she’d never had, even amidst the accepting arms of the people who had taken her in when she was ten. Even in the arms of her husband.

      She touched the demure white cap she always wore over her coronet of braids. Nothing like what was worn by the other women Tucker had known, she was sure. Tucker, with his big bones, big muscles and bold face with the aggressive slash of his cheekbones beneath his incredible silver eyes was a harshly exotic, handsome man. There was nowhere he went that women’s eyes didn’t follow. A dart of insecurity pierced her anticipation. Which meant he could have his pick.

      She pulled the cap off slowly, watching in the mirror as it revealed the tightly pinned braids. Suddenly she hated the hairstyle and all it represented. Conformity. Control. Acceptance. Tonight, she wanted to be the woman that Tucker imagined. Someone as fanciful as a moonbeam. She studied the cap, her image. Tonight, for whatever reason, he wanted her. And tonight she wanted to be more than plain Sally Mae. Tonight she wanted to drown in the attraction between them and just bury the pain that festered inside beneath some sort of joy. Since that horrible night when the sheriff had brought her Jonah’s bloody body, along with his last words, she’d been silently screaming. She didn’t want to be silent anymore, locked in her mind with her screams. And tonight she didn’t have to be. Tonight she could give Tucker what he wanted and take a little for herself. No promises would be made. No one would be hurt. Just two bodies coming together to satisfy separate needs. And when it was over, she’d go back to her silence and plain ways and Tucker would go about his wild ones. There was no worry that he would gossip. The added benefit of taking a man with Indian blood as her lover was that he wouldn’t—couldn’t—say a word for fear of being strung up. She didn’t personally care about his heritage. God created all men and women equally, but societal issues did offer her that guarantee.

      Another pause as she considered how selfish she was being, using a man to relieve pain. But then she remembered the look in Tucker’s eyes as he’d stood in the back of the cemetery on one of her recent visits. He had stalked over the rise like some wild cougar, his torn-off shirtsleeves and leather vest showcasing his massive chest and powerful muscles, giving him a primitive intimidation, making everyone and everything else seem insignificant. The ever-present bullet hanging on the leather thong around his neck completed the image of a cold, lethal predator. Until his silver gaze met hers. There hadn’t been any sympathy there. No pity. But as she stared into his eyes, understanding arced across the distance between them, and she saw the pain he, too, felt.

      It would just be one other thing they had in common—an understanding of how pain too great to be borne had to be hidden, because to let it loose would destroy everything they were. At first, that had made her uncomfortable, but as the months passed there was comfort in knowing that her secret was shared. And now their relationship was going forward, down a path that had a predestined feel to it. An opening, Friends called it. An opportunity, presented by God, to grow.

      Sighing, she put the cap on the polished vanity top.

      She was going to СКАЧАТЬ