It was late in the day when they arrived at the SR. Dark clouds still hung oppressively in the sky, but the rain had finally stopped. Molly went upstairs to change out of her wet clothes while Susanna, Claire, and Cale tended to Matt, who had been moved to his bed by Logan and his father.
Susanna had been gracious enough to supply Molly with several dresses and undergarments, a nightgown and two pairs of new shoes. She laid her drenched garments on a chair and quickly donned a pale yellow dress that buttoned down the front. As she hurried back downstairs, she knew the reason for her haste. She wanted to make sure Matt’s foot would be all right.
Hearing Jonathan and Claire in the parlor, Molly peeked into the room. An elderly woman was seated comfortably in one of the overstuffed chairs, a blanket over her lap.
“Molly.” Jonathan gestured to her. “Please come and meet Mrs. McAllister.”
Molly moved forward and the woman grasped her hand with bent fingers and large knuckles; Molly wondered if it was painful, and lessened the pressure in her hold. Mrs. McAllister’s face bore heavy wrinkles and her thin lips spread into a painted-on smile. A heavy mass of gray hair was pinned atop her head, and although she appeared frail and petite, the scrutiny in her eyes as she scanned Molly from top to bottom left Molly thinking the woman was not what her appearance would seem to convey.
“You can call me Elizabeth,” she said, a southern twang in her voice.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you.” Molly stood back when the woman released her hand at last.
“Mrs. McAllister was caught in the storm,” Jonathan said. “She’ll be stayin’ the night with us.”
“Thank you so much, Jonathan,” Elizabeth said sweetly. “I always appreciate your hospitality, and it will be nice to have a visit with Susanna. It’s been lonely in my big old house since Charles passed on. I didn’t expect this storm, however. Came quite out of nowhere.”
“I best check on Matthew,” Jonathan said. “Molly, would you and Claire mind keeping Mrs. McAllister company?”
“No, not at all,” Molly replied.
“Claire, we’ll have you set to go in the mornin’,” Jonathan added before he left. Then he was gone down the hallway.
“You’re leaving tomorrow?” Molly asked in surprise.
“I think it’s time. Mr. Ryan has made arrangements for Lester Williams to take me.”
Molly nodded, glad that Claire would be returning home, but also saddened at the thought of her departure. Claire’s still-wet hair had been braided again, and she’d changed into a blue and white striped dress.
Feeling chilled, Molly moved closer to the blaze burning brightly in the stone fireplace.
“A young woman shouldn’t be out and about alone, in the wilderness,” Elizabeth said. “Too many Indians.”
“But I thought most of the Indians in this area had been moved to reservations?” Molly asked.
“That’s what they say, but don’t you believe it. I’d bet my mama’s fine china there are still some of them out there.”
Molly wasn’t sure what to say, but something in Elizabeth’s tone told her it was a subject best not pursued.
“So, are either of you young ladies betrothed to the Ryan boys?” Elizabeth asked.
Molly frowned. “No, ma’am. The Ryans have just been kind enough to let us stay on a bit.”
Elizabeth nodded. “Ryan hospitality is well known in these parts. They’re good people. Where are you girls from?”
Molly wasn’t sure what to say, but suddenly felt a need to safeguard her past. Claire saved her the trouble of lying.
“New Mexico.”
“Oh, that’s still a territory, isn’t it? I hear it’s a lawless land, full of bandits and outlaws, and more of those blasted red men. They’re like vermin, crawling all over this land. I just can’t abide their presence.” She waved a gnarled hand in disgust.
Claire raised an eyebrow in Molly’s direction.
Molly remained silent.
“It’s a shame about Matthew’s injury,” Elizabeth continued. “Did he fall from his horse?”
“No, ma’am.” Molly cleared her throat. “It was a cattle stampede.” Then she asked Claire, “How is his foot?”
“It’s not broken, just badly bruised and swollen. Cale is wrapping it now. He’s going to be fine.”
Elizabeth nodded knowingly. “No one believes me, but cattle are dangerous animals, there’s no doubt about that. But Matthew is young and strong. I’m sure he’ll be up and around in no time. I’d always hoped my Lizzie would marry one of those boys.”
“Lizzie?” Molly asked. A quick stab of jealousy sent a jolt through her stomach. Or maybe all she needed was some food.
“My dear sweet daughter.” Elizabeth smiled. “She’s away at boarding school in Richmond. She’s my only child, and I’ve missed her so. But she’s to return soon, and I have no doubt she’ll have plenty of men interested in courting her. She’s quite lovely. It’s a shame Matthew had to leave the Rangers, but perhaps it’s God’s plan.” Whispering, as if they shared a beloved secret, she went on, “I’m sure Lizzie will catch his eye, and I wouldn’t be at all bothered if she were to become a Ryan.”
Molly thought she’d had quite enough. Forcing a smile on her face, she said, “I’d best check if Susanna might need help. You must be hungry, Mrs. McAllister.” Molly didn’t think she could stand there another minute and listen to her go on about her daughter and Matt. “I’ll see if Rosita has started supper.” Turning quickly, she left the room.
She made a silent apology to Claire as she escaped to the kitchen.
* * *
Matt lay back, his head propped up with pillows. Cale had wrapped his foot, but the swollen injury throbbed and he took another steadying breath. At least it wasn’t the same leg Cerillo had mutilated. Now, both his legs were shot, but he didn’t regret it. He couldn’t think of what would’ve happened to Molly if he hadn’t managed to shield her from the crazed animals.
Logan entered the room, carrying firewood, then proceeded to stoke the fireplace on the far side of the room. Soon, flames grew in strength.
“Ma doesn’t want you to catch a chill,” his brother said, standing.
Matt noticed Logan still hadn’t changed out of his wet clothes since they returned. “You’re the one who’s gonna catch a chill. Go clean yourself up.”
“You never did get it, did you?” Logan grinned. “You’re ma’s favorite. I could be passed out in the pantry with pneumonia, but ma would still insist I fetch some peaches for you.”
Matt suppressed a groan as he tried to shift his position. “Then where the hell are my peaches?”
Logan laughed. “Get your own damn food. Pa has Dawson making a crutch for you. Should be ready tomorrow.” Then, out of the blue, he said, “Claire’s leavin’ in the mornin’.”
Alarm shot through Matt. “Is Molly going with her?”
Logan shook his head slowly. “Pa’s gonna send Lester with her.” He went silent.
As the panic over Molly leaving gradually faded, relief flooded Matt. He could hardly chase after her in the condition he was now in. Damn. What was he going to do about her?
“I’d take her myself,” Logan said reflectively, “but Pa’s countin’ on me for the roundup, especially now that you’re useless.”
“Lester’s a good man. I’m sure Claire will be fine.” Selfishly, he was just happy that Molly was staying.
“Yeah.” Logan turned back to the fire, poking it with an iron rod. “Mrs. McAllister’s here.”
“I guess somethin’ good came of getting laid up after all.” Matt shifted his position again. His injured limb was propped up on a pillow, but pain still spread in all directions any time he tried to move his backside.
Standing, Logan rested his hands on his hips. “Yeah. You’re lucky all the way around. You hungry?”
“I don’t know.” He leaned his head back and closed his eyes. He didn’t like being stuck in bed. He’d just recovered from an extended bed rest from his other leg injury. He didn’t particularly look forward to it again.
“I’ll send Molly to keep you company.”
Matt opened his eyes a slit, wondering what his brother was up to. Still, he wouldn’t mind seeing her. But he really should mind. Hell, he was too tired and in too much pain to care. Seeing her would be damn nice.
“She’s been asking about you every five minutes for the last two hours,” Logan added, walking to the doorway. “I think Ma would be glad to lock the two of you away, but I wouldn’t mention it to Mrs. McAllister. She’s got her sights on you for Lizzie.”
Matt did groan aloud now, rubbing his face. “I’m not good husband material.”
“Don’t I know it. You’re too much a mama’s boy.”
Matt threw a pillow at his brother, but it hit the door as it closed.
* * *
Molly knocked before entering Matt’s room, balancing the tray of food with her free hand. She took the muffled response—or was it a dog barking?—as a signal to enter. Kicking the door closed behind her, she noticed a pillow on the floor. When she finally looked up, she almost dropped the tray.
Sitting upright on the bed, his injured foot resting on a pillow, Matt was shirtless and quite obviously pantless, with a pile of bedcovers bunched at his waist. His appearance reminded Molly of every creature’s will to survive—barely leashed power with a watchful wariness as potential prey entered its vicinity. His exposed chest was broad, muscled, and dark hair curled downward. With gleaming eyes he watched her, the scrutiny intense and distinctly primal.
“Are you always in a bad mood?” she asked in defense, then realized her poor manners. “I apologize, I’m sure your foot pains you.” Walking around the bed, she handed him the tray. “I’ve brought you some food.”
Despite his position, he easily lifted the tray from her, his stomach muscles clenching, drawing her eye to the strength and grace of his body. With effort, she attempted to quiet her wayward thoughts.
“Thank you.” He set the food on the center of the bed.
“Logan mentioned you could use some company, but if you want me to go…,” She sensed that being alone with him might not be such a good idea. If Mrs. McAllister knew of his state of nakedness, she’d probably faint on the spot. The image brought a smile to her lips.
“What’s so amusing?” he asked.
“I probably shouldn’t say.” She glanced back at the closed door. “But Mrs. McAllister would probably comment on how improper it is my being here with you. Seeing as how you have no clothes on and all,” she added, in case her meaning wasn’t clear.
Matt laughed.
Molly liked it, having heard so little of it since they’d been reunited.
“Then you definitely better stay,” Matt said. “That woman sticks her nose into too many people’s business.”
“I got that impression.” She turned and dragged a heavy wooden chair closer to the bed and sat. “What did Cale say about your foot?”
“He didn’t think it was bad.” Matt swallowed a piece of bread and drank half a glass of milk. “But it might take a week before the swelling goes down.”
“I should thank you for trying to protect me. Those cattle came out of nowhere.”
“Yeah. It doesn’t take much to spook ‘em. The storm and the coyotes were a bad combination.”
“Do you think the bones Cale found are the men who attacked?”
“I don’t know.” Matt picked up the potatoes and carrots with his fingers instead of using a fork, quickly consuming them. “He didn’t find anything more that would’ve been useful in identifying who they might’ve been. But if they’re the same men, then someone went to an extra effort to conceal the bodies. That means someone early on in the search got out there and disposed of them before the rest of us came along.”
“Do you remember who that might’ve been?”
Matt shook his head. “No. Honestly, it could’ve been anyone.”
She fell silent.
“Logan said Claire is leaving in the morning,” Matt said, popping pieces of torn chicken meat into his mouth.
“It would seem so.”
“You thinkin’ of goin’ with her?”
“No, I thought I should stay a bit longer yet. I’d still like to know what happened to my folks.”
“We may never know that.” Matt wiped his greasy fingers with a cloth napkin, then pushed the tray aside. He’d managed to eat the large meal so swiftly.
“I realize that.” Frowning at the empty plate, she asked, “Do you want more food?”
“No.” His unrelenting gaze focused on her, making her uncomfortable.
“Then maybe I should leave.” She stood.
“You don’t have to,” he said quietly, “unless you want to.”
Hesitating, she replied honestly. “I’m not sure what I want.”
She stepped toward the bed, then shook her head and turned to flee but Matt reached for her. His large, callused fingers burned the skin around her wrist where he held her. Her heart pounded and she swayed, light-headed.
“Molly.” His deep voice caressed her. The sound of her name on his lips was enough to ignite a desire in her body so sharp she almost gasped aloud. “I don’t have any answers for this.”
“I don’t recall asking a question.” Her voice, husky and full of wanting, didn’t seem to be her own.
“You’re young, and I have far too much experience to understand what this is.”
She still couldn’t look at him. “So, you prefer women with experience?” Claire had said men came to the brothel to pay for sex, preferably with women who knew how to give pleasure. Did Matt frequent such establishments? And if he did, how could she ever hope to live up to such expectations?
“Molly,” he said more urgently, pulling her around to face him. “What I prefer has nothing to do with this. You’re a beautiful young woman who’s been through hell and back the last ten years. It’s my job to look out for you.”
“Since when?” Good Lord, she sounded almost petulant.
“Since ten years ago,” he responded impatiently. He took a deep breath before continuing.
His large, tanned hand still held her. She thought to pull away, but his thumb grazed her knuckles, moving back and forth in a way that felt far more than friendly. It dawned on her then that maybe Matt wasn’t sure of what should or shouldn’t be between them; maybe he was as confused, as attracted, as she. It was that very thought that made her feel bold, almost reckless, and she seized the feeling and the moment before common sense stopped her. Leaning forward, she kissed him.
One kiss, lips to lips, then she stopped, her mouth inches from his. Matt didn’t move. Disappointment struck hard. It had been too forward, and now she’d humiliated herself. Indecision kept her frozen in place.
“I’m sorry—”
Matt’s mouth covered hers, hard and unyielding. His hands dug into her hair, holding her in place while he kissed her. She fell against him and gripped his shoulders as his lips devoured hers. She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, she could only hold on while the storm between them exploded.
Molly started to tremble, overcome by the strength of Matt’s desire. Her heart raced, her skin felt flushed, and her breasts reacted to the slightest movement of his body. Deep within her abdomen awakened a longing, a need that overcame reasonable thought…
Without warning, Matt stopped.
Molly opened her eyes, completely bewildered.
“This is dangerous,” he said, his rapid breathing mingling with her own. “I’m not a saint, Molly. You make me forget right and wrong.”
Reluctantly, Molly withdrew from him. She felt exhilarated, but also apprehensive at what had just occurred. Her innocence was distressingly apparent to her. Matt’s lust was that of a man, and she kissed him in the artless way of a naïve young girl, but that was exactly what she was. Maybe Matt was right in denying what was between them. His kiss demanded a completion that left her filled with longing, but also uncertainty.
It would seem she wasn’t ready to meet the demands of the flesh between a man and woman.
She stood, amazed her legs even held her upright. She walked around the bed and took the tray holding his dinner dishes, then hastily left the room.