Читать книгу Whirlwind Wedding - Debra Cowan - Страница 11

A fter Catherine left, Jericho dozed off for a few minutes. He woke with his mind rolling over the events of last night. He knew sure as shootin’ that Andrew Donnelly was connected to the McDougal gang. Whatever secrets the boy was hiding were likely related to the outlaws, but Jericho didn’t know a blasted thing about Catherine’s secrets. Was she sweet on a McDougal? Protecting one or all of them?

He might be able to figure it out if his mind would stop drifting to what she looked like beneath the starched day dress and apron she wore today. The gown he’d seen her wearing last night before she pulled on her wrapper had covered, but not hidden her full breasts. And he could still smell the sweet, subtle scent of her skin, which rose around him when they touched. Things he would do well to forget.

The sound of light footsteps on the front porch had him looking over his shoulder and out the window. Catherine walked out into the yard carrying a basketful of clothes. She stopped in front of a huge kettle about five yards from the house and deposited the basket on the ground. A fire had already been laid and she poked it with a stick, then tested the water in the kettle by dipping in a finger.

No doubt Jericho’s blood-soaked drawers were already soaking in cold water. He didn’t really want to think about her hands on those, or how much he wanted her hands on him.

She dunked several pieces of clothing into the water, then scooped up a handful of soap and slanted the washboard into the pot.

The morning sun glinting on her black hair made it look like hot silk. She wore it up today, the simple chignon exposing her elegant neck as she bent over the washboard. Her pale blue bodice pulled taut across her back, outlining slender shoulders and a slim waist. He’d felt the delicate lines of both last night through the light cotton of her wrapper and gown. Jericho’s body hardened.

What was it about this woman? While it had been excruciating to lie still as she stitched him, he had been in his right mind enough to admire the fine texture of her creamy skin, the rose-pink lips she worried too often with her teeth. More than once he’d imagined loosening her hair and burying his hands in the silky thickness, feeling it slide over his chest and belly. No other woman had ever gotten to him like this.

His fascination wasn’t just because he wanted her. She intrigued him. She was shy about his body and yet she doctored him as well as any medicine man he’d known. Her stitches were more even and smaller than Dr. Butler’s. Jericho’s scar would be big but maybe not hideous.

And he had observed that she managed to keep him talking, while revealing little about her own past. Being raised in New York City explained her Eastern accent. Maybe it also explained the shadows he sometimes glimpsed in her eyes. Fourteen years was a long time to be separated from one’s family, but Jericho could easily imagine his mother leaving him behind the same way, to make sure he was clothed and fed. The regret and sorrow in Catherine’s voice when she’d explained about being raised by nuns had changed to hope when she spoke about Andrew.

Was her desire for a family strong enough that she would protect her brother if he were involved with the McDougals? Probably so. As she had stitched up Jericho’s leg, and the pain carved away the arousal he felt at her touch, he’d found himself letting his guard down, trying to reassure her that he wouldn’t hurt her. The truth was he would if necessary. Not physically, perhaps, but apprehending her brother when the time came would surely wound her.

For her sake, he hoped none of the outlaws held her heart. She would hate Jericho even more if that were true. But why should he care? he demanded as he pushed away the bite of regret. He was here to do a job, and her brother was the starting point.

Catherine might be unaware of Andrew’s midnight trip, but Jericho planned to find out where the boy had been, what he’d been doing out so late and with whom.

The clop of hooves drew his attention, and Davis Lee rode into view. Good. Jericho needed someone to take his attention off Catherine and put it back where it belonged. Maybe his cousin had some news from those nuns in New York.

Davis Lee dismounted and walked over to Catherine, taking off his hat. “Morning, Miz Donnelly.”

“Hello, Sheriff.”

“Please call me Davis Lee.”

“All right. Please call me Catherine.”

Jericho heard a smile in her voice.

Davis Lee grinned like a possum eating a yellow jacket. “How’s my ornery cousin this morning?”

She shaded her eyes, moving closer to him. “He tore his stitches last night but I think he’s okay today.”

“If you’re tending him, I’m sure he’s right as rain.”

Jericho rolled his eyes.

She shook her head, wringing out a shirt that looked about Andrew’s size. “I’m no doctor, Davis Lee. I just know a few things.”

“Things that probably saved Jericho’s life. Is there anything I can bring you or help you with?” He slid his hat back on and circled the kettle. “Let me stoke up this fire.”

He knelt and poked a stick into the burning wood, just as she’d done moments ago.

It didn’t surprise Jericho that his cousin was paying so much attention to Catherine. The woman was pretty; even Jericho would admit that. What he didn’t like was the burning in his gut every time Catherine smiled at Davis Lee.

“Thank you.” She hesitated, then asked, “I wonder if you might help me with your cousin?”

“You’re not wanting me to take him off your hands, are you?”

She laughed and Jericho’s lip curled. Ha ha.

“I need to wash the sheets on his bed, but I don’t think I can get him up by myself.”

“I’m more than happy to oblige.”

The two of them started for the house. Jericho thought it would serve Catherine right if he threw the sheets off and greeted her in the altogether. She probably wouldn’t be so friendly to Davis Lee then.

A second later his cousin stepped into the room, with Catherine close behind him. She moved to Jericho’s right, laying a cool hand on his brow. She smelled of lye soap and fresh air.

“Good. No fever.”

Except in his blood, Jericho thought wryly. Good thing she couldn’t gauge that.

“How does your leg feel, Lieutenant? Do the stitches seem to be holding?”

So she was back to calling him by his rank, while she addressed his cousin familiarly. “Yes.”

“I thought I’d wash your sheets,” she said.

He kept his surliness to himself. She had undoubtedly saved his life. “Okay.” He sat up, biting back a grunt of pain. “Where would you like me?”

Her gaze flew to his and for a brief instant he read desire there. Pure, naked desire. He was completely flummoxed. Then it was gone, her blue eyes cool and clear. He had misread the emotion. Hadn’t he?

“If you have the strength, you can sit in this chair by the window. If not, we can move you to Andrew’s bed.”

“The chair will be fine.”

He thought it odd that she’d asked for Davis Lee’s help to get him up. She had managed fine last night, and Jericho was a little stronger today. In fact, he probably could’ve managed on his own, balancing on his good leg while making his way to the chair she pushed against the wall next to the window. He braced his uninjured hand on the bed and levered himself to his feet. The sheet fell away, and out of the corner of his eye he saw Catherine look elsewhere.

At least his drawers and bandages were clean.

Davis Lee moved to his left and braced a shoulder under Jericho’s good arm. “You steady?”

“I think so.”

His cousin helped him to the chair, while Catherine stripped the sheets from the bed. The large spot of dried blood on the cloth in her hand reminded Jericho of all that had passed between them. She kept her gaze carefully averted from his bare chest, his near nakedness. And that’s when he understood why she had asked for Davis Lee’s help.

She didn’t want to be alone with Jericho. After this morning, when she’d seen that he was aroused again, she probably didn’t want to touch him, either.

She spread clean sheets on the bed, then folded a light quilt at its foot. “That should feel much better.”

“Thank you, ma’am.”

She looked at him then, her blue eyes cool and impersonal once more, reestablishing a distance Jericho should’ve maintained all along. An emotion he couldn’t name flashed across her face, then disappeared.

She tore her gaze away, smiling at his cousin. “Davis Lee, could you help—”

“I can do it,” Jericho said through clenched teeth. Planting his good leg solidly on the floor, he used the chair to help himself stand.

Davis Lee watched expectantly and Catherine’s hands automatically went out as if to catch him.

Jericho hobbled the few steps to the bed, his thigh screaming with the effort. Lowering himself onto the clean linens, he let out a deep breath.

“Wonderful, Lieutenant!” Catherine sounded pleased. “But don’t overdo it.”

He figured he might overdo just about anything if she asked him to. “No danger of that,” he said hoarsely.

“Can I get you anything? A drink of water maybe?”

He wanted more whiskey, to blot her blue eyes right out of his mind. “No thanks.”

Davis Lee scooped up the soiled sheets from the floor. “I’ll carry these out for you.”

She followed him to the door, glancing back at Jericho. He gave her a flat stare. There was nothing between them and there wouldn’t be. He’d gone soft in the head because of his injury, but he had hold of his senses now.

She searched his face, opening her mouth as if she wanted to say something. Then she shook her head and walked out. “I appreciate all your help, Davis Lee.”

Jericho heard them step outside, saw them walk past the porch toward the kettle. A warm breeze moved over his chest and legs, calling to mind the soft caress of her hands on him earlier today.