Carolyn Davidson - The Outlaw's Bride

“I’m still a half-breed. No matter how much land I own, or how well my land produces, I’m not a woman to appeal to white men. Perhaps for other reasons, but not for marriage.”

“Have you had problems with the men hereabouts? Have they bothered you?”

She shook her head, then seemed to hesitate. “A bit, but my shotgun has been sufficient to keep them at bay.” She clutched the top rail of the fence tightly. “I fear that I may be taken by surprise someday, that someone may come upon me when I’m in the garden or the shed and my gun is not with me.”

“You don’t carry it, Debra? Would it be wise to keep it by your side?”

She turned to him and her gaze was level. “Not with you here. No one will approach me as long as you stay.” Her smile teased him. “I consider you a form of insurance against predators.”

“And when I’m gone?”

Her head drooped and he thought her shoulders sagged a bit, as if she were troubled by that thought. And then she straightened and her chin lifted, perhaps with pride.

“I’ll be as I was before you got here. Alone, but able to care for myself and what is mine.”

He reached out to her, his fingers brushing the fine skin of her cheek and she inhaled sharply, her eyes widening as if she would withdraw from his touch. He would not allow it, but stepped closer, curving his palm against her face and turning her to better see the expression she wore.

“What if I stayed, Debra? What if I made this my home, and you…” He took a breath, knowing she might flee from his words. “What if we were to marry? Could you spend your life with me, knowing of my past? Knowing I’ve taken a life?”

The words fell between them and she twisted from his touch, her eyes wide with panic, as if she feared him. He would not have it. She had not feared him, had not flinched from his presence in weeks, and now she acted as if he had grown horns.

“Don’t pull away from me,” he said harshly. “I’m still the same man I was ten minutes ago, Debra. I’m not going to pounce on you or hurt you in any way. I thought you knew me well enough by now not to fear me.”

She shook her head. “I don’t fear you. My hesitation is not because you’ve taken a life, for I know you were justified in what you did. I just can’t accept the idea of marriage to a white man. Nor to a man of my mother’s people, for that matter. I will live my life alone.”

“Why?” His question was bold, he knew, but his need to know her thoughts was heavy on him. “Why can’t you be my wife? I wouldn’t expect more of you than what you give me gladly. I’m not a harsh man, nor will I change overnight if you bear my name. I’m free of hindrance, with no family to tie me. And I’m a hard worker, surely you’ve seen that. I wouldn’t be a bad husband.”

Her eyes were dark, black with what appeared to be fear, and he failed to understand what she dreaded. “Do I frighten you, Debra?” And if she nodded, he would mount his horse and leave, for the thought of her fear made him feel less than a man.

She placed the flat of her hand on his chest, and he felt the warmth of it radiate throughout his body. Unmoving, she measured him with her gaze, her eyes taking stock of his face, his arms, the length of his legs and the width of his chest where her palm had laid claim to the body beneath it.

“Your heartbeat is strong,” she said quietly. “It is the beat of an honest heart, Tyler, and you are an honest man. I can not deny that. You have been good to me, you’ve worked for me and taken hold as if this were your own place.” Her tongue touched her upper lip as if she hesitated to speak further and he held his breath, for surely her words would frame his future.

His hand lifted to cover hers and he felt the warmth of long fingers and the fragile bones of a woman beneath his touch. “I would take you as my wife, Debra, if you agree. I’ll work for you and provide for you as a husband, and if I’m hunted down, I’ll leave you as I found you. You won’t bear shame because of my past.”

“You will expect to share my bed.” It was a statement of fact, not a query, and he considered it as such. Her mouth trembled as he watched, the first sign of feminine weakness she’d shown in his presence. His index finger rose to touch the line of her upper lip and he caressed it carefully.

“Yes.” It was a single word, but it spoke volumes, and he recognized her hesitation for what it was. She had not known a man’s body, and feared being used as a wife.

He watched his hand, saw the trembling of his fingers as they spread once more against her cheek. “I need you as a man needs a woman, but I won’t take what you hold dear. Unless you offer your body to me, I’ll do without the comfort of your woman’s flesh.”

“Men aren’t usually so willing to—” Her voice broke off as if she could not bring herself to speak the words that filled her throat.

“I’m not most men.” He bent to her, lifting her chin with his palm and touched her lips with his own, brushing lightly against the softness he found there. “I would treasure the kiss you give me,” he said softly.

Her lips were a temptation he found it almost impossible to turn from and he coaxed her gently, his own opening but slightly, not wanting to frighten her with the desire that filled him. She was soft, gently formed, and he had been long without a woman in his arms. Not since his wife’s death had he yearned so for the pleasure to be found in the depths of a female’s body.

And now his yearning was great, his arousal prominent and obvious as he pressed her against himself. His arms around her were firm and she accepted his touch, leaning against him as if his heat drew her. His hand slipped down her back, pressing her closer, and he felt her warmth enclose his need.

It was all he could do not to hold himself against her more firmly, but he knew she would be frightened if he kept her captive, and so he relaxed his arms a bit, offering her the space to move from him.

Debra felt her body still, knew a moment of fear as she sensed his man’s arousal against her belly. She’d not known the feel of a man’s flesh, but knew the look of a man before he takes a woman to his bed. The braves of her mother’s tribe had made no secret of their prowess with the women of the tribe, and more than one had come to her mother and offered himself to her.

It had frightened the girl who watched, and she’d buried her head in her bedding as the sounds of a man using her mother had hammered into her memory. Now she knew the body of an aroused man for herself, knew the feel of his need for her and felt a returning desire for his touch.

“You’re a virgin, Debra, and I would not hurt you or take you to bed unless you become my wife first.” His words penetrated her sense of fear and she relaxed against him. “Does my need for you frighten you, little bird?”

She nodded, once, and then stood with her face buried against his chest. Her words were soft, poignant, and her voice faltered as she spoke. “I saw the men of my mother’s tribe. One of them came to her while I lay nearby.” She could not continue, and her voice broke.

“It was not for a child to see or hear such a thing,” he said roughly. “You didn’t understand what was happening, and you were but a child, too young to be exposed to your mother’s—”

“She wasn’t willing, but he took her anyway,” Debra said. “I heard her cry when he used her body, and he laughed at her, told her she was but a woman and good for nothing else.”

“And did you believe what he said?” Tyler held her close, wanting only to cherish the young child she had been and the woman she was now.

“I suppose I did then,” she admitted. “For I knew no better. But now I know that he only tried to shame her in order to make himself look more a man.”