Rafe's Redemption Page 17

  His words made her twist on the sheet, the image of his cock sliding into her made her moan. Finally she’d have all the answers to her questions.

  She cupped his face in her palms and pulled him to her for a long kiss, thrusting her tongue into his mouth, imitating what he’d done to her cunny. The taste of her own sex made her heart beat faster. It was so seductive, like heady wine.

  “Wrap your legs around my waist.” Gently he draped them over his hips, then made himself comfortable in the cradle he’d created. “I swear I’ll be as gentle as possible,” he said gravely.

  She smiled. It couldn’t be as bad as he made it sound. “I know.”

  He must have mistook her answer for ignorance. A frown creased his brow. “Nettie told you the first time will hurt, didn’t she?”

  Maggie nodded and traced his grim mouth with her fingertip. “A re you going to make love to me or talk?” Rafe blinked once, twice, then grinned. She squirmed beneath him, eliciting a deep rumble in his chest. His gaze scorched her when captured her lips. He pushed his tongue inside her mouth the same time he pressed inside her heat. She gasped as the blunt tip gained entry.

  “Ready?” he asked, but didn’t give her time to answer. He kissed her hard, then thrust his shaft deep.

  She forgot to breathe. Hot, searing pain tore through her. She blinked back tears, refusing to cry out.

  “A re you all right?” Rafe whispered. He didn’t move.

  He barely breathed.

  Maggie inhaled, let his masculine scent and the smell of lovemaking relax her. “Yes.” She wiggled her hips to accommodate his girth, stretching her, claiming her. “I just feel very…full.” So full. Like trying to wear too-small stockings. Except legs had nothing to do with this.

  He grinned like the devil. A pparently that was something a man liked to hear. “Can I move?” His voice was ragged, the words pleaded.

  She wrapped her arms around him and held tight. “I wish you would. I want to know what the rest feels like.”

  “Damned sassy-mouthed woman.” The compliment whispered over her skin as he kissed her, his cock moving in time with his tongue, long, slow strokes.

  Blindly his hands found hers and stretched them above her head. His rough palms slid over hers until their hands were clasped, their fingers entwined. A tremor ran through his body as his pace increased.

  “God, Maggie,” he groaned as he buried his face in her neck. “So damn good.”

  Sweat coated their bodies, the sheet sticking to her back, tangling their legs. He lifted her legs, rested them higher on his waist, then gripped her bottom and tilted her hips so that each thrust sent a streak of pleasure screaming through her. It shouldn’t be possible to feel need again, but a fiery ache demanded satisfaction.

  “More. I need more,” she begged.

  He made room for his hand in the middle of their bodies. His fingers slipped through her wet curls and stroked the same rhythm as his hips. She gasped. He was going to kill her. The pleasure was too much, and yet she only needed a little bit more to find the ecstasy she’d had before…So close, so close, just a little more and…She’d be there…

  Spasms racked her body. Wonderful, earth shattering spasms.

  Shifting his weight, he lifted his upper body and set a pounding rhythm.

  His sudden hoarse cry ripped through the cabin, a strangled growl of pure pleasure that died to a satisfied moan as he fell onto her body, his hot cum flooding her cunny in long spurts, warming her from the inside out.

  Their hearts thundered against each other, his rough breathing fanned the hair at her temple, his ragged breath in her ear.

  He shuddered as she ran her palms down his slick back, then rolled to his back and fit her against his side, preserving their heat, their closeness, but she missed the ultimate closeness, being full of his cock. His callused hands trailed over her shoulder, down her arm, pulling her closer until she lay almost atop him.

  The soft sounds of the fire crackling filled the silent room. Maggie chewed her lip, sure there was something experienced woman said to their lovers after such an…

  encounter. But nothing sophisticated came to mind, and can we do that again seemed wanton.

  “A re you sorry?” he whispered.

  “No. Never.” She peeked at him. “A re you?”

  “No. I’m glad you’re here with me.” He nuzzled his chin across the top of her head.

  “You didn’t want me here at first,” she teased.

  “I wanted you too much. That was the problem.” That didn’t make any sense. “What do you mean?” He blew a long breath. “You make me feel again. I’d spent over a year trying not to feel anything. Until I saw you, I believed I’d forgotten how.”

  His hoarse words broke her heart. He sounded so sad, as if all the loneliness she sensed the first time she walked into this house crept into his voice. Climbing over his body, she cupped his cheek, brushed his soft whiskers. His gaze never wavered, but she suspected it was his pride that kept him from looking away.

  “I know you never intended to be saddled with me, but I’m not sorry I’m here.” She pressed her lips to his.

  “I’ve never known a better man. I’ve said that before but…”

  His agonized expression stole her words. What had she said?

  He pushed her from his body and rolled to his side, leaving her cold. “I’m not a good man.”

  “I think you are.”

  “You don’t know my past.”

  She shook her head and smoothed her hand over his bare back. “It can’t be so bad.”

  A bitter laugh twisted her heart. “Really?” His voice was muffled by the pillow. “What if I told you I killed a man?”

  “In the war, you mean?” Everything Tom has said flashed through her mind.

  Rafe shrugged away from her touch and moved to the edge of the bed, hunched over like the weight of the world sat on his shoulders. “Yes. But afterward. A fter Lee conceded in A ppomattox. I didn’t want to tell you, but now.” He shook his head and stood. “I can’t stand you calling me a good man. Not after what I’ve done.” Shuffling to the hearth, he pulled the rocker close to the fire and sat staring into the flames, shutting her out.

  A voiding her.

  Sudden anger sparked inside her, catching like dry kindling. He was not going to do this again. Not this time. Not ever again.

  She snatched both shirts from the floor, using hers to clean his seed from her thighs, dropping his over her head before walking to the chair. Without asking permission, she climbed onto his lap, like a child wanting to be rocked. He stiffened, but she wound her arms around his neck and burrowed her head onto his shoulder. If he wanted away from her, he’d have to throw her from his lap.

  Endless seconds passed and neither spoke. She waited, would wait all night if that’s what it took for them to breach this impasse. Finally his hand slid over her hip, his arms encircled her waist, and his fingers tangled in her hair. He caught a strand around his finger, curling, uncurling until she thought he’d forgot why they sat as they did.

  She pressed a kiss to his neck. “Tell me the rest,” she whispered.

  “What rest?”

  “You wouldn’t kill anyone without a very good reason.”

  He shook his head. “It’s a long story.”

  “I’ve got nowhere else to be tonight.” She captured his jaw and pressed an easy kiss to his lips. “Tell me.

  Trust me.”

  He swallowed hard, his throat convulsing several times before he spoke.

  “Mother said my father died before I was born. When I was six, she remarried. The day of their wedding, my new stepfather pulled me aside and made it clear he didn’t consider me good enough to be his son, or…good enough to take his name.”

  Maggie held her breath. Rafe was going to say something terrible, something so bad it could destroy them both. She could feel it. Feel it hovering over them like a disease. Like death.

  Unshed tears mixed with agony in his e
yes. “A sk my stepfather’s name, Maggie.”

  She shook her head, not wanting to know. A fraid she already knew.

  “Seymour Pierson.” Rafe whispered the words, but they roared through her like a tornado.

  Pierson. Pierson. The name…Christ. Pierson was the last name of the man Major Douglas taunted Rafe about.

  “Then Simon…”

  “Is his son.”

  Maggie squeezed her eyes shut against the pain.

  “A nd the other man, the one you…” She wouldn’t, couldn’t phrase it like that. It was as good as crucifying Rafe. “The dead man was your…”

  He gave one sharp nod. “My stepbrother, Maggie.” Catching her chin between his fingers, he forced her to look at him. “I killed my own stepbrother.” Her sob shredded Rafe’s heart. He looked away from the tears streaming down her face and stared into the flames, ready for the disgusted slap she was sure to deliver. Dropping his hands to the edge of the chair, he released her. She’d walk away now, physically and emotionally. It had been a damned foolish dream to think she’d ever be his anyway.

  He waited, each beat of his heart like the gong of a church bell, ringing out the last seconds of a man’s life.

  But she didn’t move except to swipe her cheeks with the back of her hands. “Tell me the rest. I have to know.” The words froze in his throat. For so long, he’d pushed the memory to the back of his mind, not knowing if he had the strength to relive it. He wasn’t sure he had the strength now.

  “I—we—” He stopped and sucked a mouthful of air, blowing it out slowly before starting again. “We three boys joined the cavalry when the first call for volunteers went out. Simon and I quickly advanced in rank. We soon made captain and were each given our own unit.” Rafe tapped the floor with his foot, setting the rocker into motion. “Shane was never promoted past corporal. His temper and lack of control kept him continually in trouble.

  “In the spring of ‘62, he was transferred under my command. Since we were family, I tried to deal with his incompetence instead of doing what I should have and discharged him.” Rafe stopped rocking, lost in the memory of that day.

  “A fter A ppomattox, my unit was supposed to rendezvous with Simon’s at Fort D in Cape Girardeau, before riding to St. Louis to give final reports.” He started rocking again, faster, faster, trying to outrun the horrors.

  “We were coming up through A rkansas and stopped to rest. There was a burned-out farmhouse by the creek where we watered the horses. Some of the men poked around the ruins looking for food.

  “A ll of a sudden, I heard a woman scream. I left the creek and ran to the old house. Shane had pulled a woman out of the root cellar by the hair.” A shudder ran through him despite the warmth of the fire.

  “Shane had her on the ground, tearing at her dress before I could get there. A few of the other men watched, which only encouraged him.

  “I ordered him to stop, but,” Rafe swallowed hard,

  “but he said the war was over. Told me to go to hell.

  Then he raised her skirt and climbed between her legs. I drew my pistol and once again ordered him to stop.” The events played through his mind like a theatre show. The woman, the boy. Shane.

  “A boy—a little boy—crawled out of that cellar, dragging a double barrel shotgun. He couldn’t have been more than five years old. Hell, he couldn’t even hold the barrel straight. The woman screamed for him to go back.”

  Rafe fought the tears stinging his eyes. He could feel the heat of sun that day, taste the bitter dust, smell the acrid smoke. That little boy’s grim face was as clear as if it all happened yesterday.

  “Say it, Rafe. You have to say it.” Maggie’s voice was a bare whisper.

  “The boy managed to pull both the hammers on the gun.” Rafe closed his eyes seeing those tiny shaking hands. “Shane just laughed and took aim at the boy with his revolver…and cocked the…” He swallowed thick bile and forced the words past his lips. “So I killed him.” A shudder tore through him, and he bowed his head as humiliating tears rolled down his face. Relief and regret mixed. Finally someone knew the truth. But it didn’t make what had happened any less disgusting. A nd what woman wanted to live with that?

  “You can go now.” The statement came out as a command, but he didn’t apologize. He wouldn’t, couldn’t.

  His own throat closed over threatening tears, tears he hadn’t let out for almost two years.

  “Go? Where?”

  She reached for him, but he shrugged her away. The pain was unbearable. Every minute she sat looking at him with those haunted eyes made him want to drop to his knees and beg her to stay, to understand. To forgive.

  But that would be impossible. Like Pearl, Maggie wouldn’t stay with a killer. Hell, his own mother had turned her back on him that day.

  “For now, just go to bed.” He hardened his damned trembling voice. “I’ll stay in the barn.” He couldn’t very well let her run out into the cold.

  “Why? What did I do wrong?”

  Damn. Damn, damn, damn. She had done nothing.

  This suffering was all his fault.

  “Tell me. What did I—” Suddenly she straightened, and her reddened eyes narrowed. “You are the stupidest man I have ever met!”

  His head snapped up to catch her furious expression.

  “How am I being stupid?”

  “You’re pushing me away again.” She bit back a shuddering sob and glared at him.

  “Maggie…” He fisted his hands at his sides, the only way he could keep from gathering her close. “Don’t cry over me. I’m not worth it.”

  “Yes, you are,” she wailed. Her defiant expression crumbled. She threw her arms around his neck and rained sloppy kisses over his jaw, his nose, his eyes.

  He kept himself rigid. If he touched her, he would be lost, and any minute she would realize the extent of what he’d done. Then she’d walk away and never look back.

  A nd he would die inside.

  “Put your arms around me, damn you.” She grabbed his hands and pulled him close. “I will not let you push me away. You can’t. Not after tonight. Never again.” He brushed her flushed cheek with the back of his knuckles and shook his head. “Maggie, I don’t expect you to accept this. Or me. No respectable woman would.” Her chin thrust forward. “Well, then, I guess I’m not respectable.” Then her gaze flared with anger. “A nd by God, I’m not her, so don’t make comparisons.”

  “Her, who?”

  “Your fiancée.”

  Rafe frowned. “How do you know about—Oh.” Damn, he regretted drinking so much, talking so much, that first night in Cougar Creek. “Tom told you, didn’t he?”

  She nodded.

  He dropped his head to the back of the chair. “I know you’re not her, but it doesn’t change what I did. I won’t blame you if you—”

  Her fingers covered his mouth. “Don’t you remember what you said in the barn yesterday?”

  He shrugged. “We said a lot of things.” But he remembered. Every single word.

  “You told me I belonged to you.” Her voice trembled.

  His heart kicked a little at her words. “Yes.” Oh, God.

  He didn’t want to get his hopes up.

  “Well, I do,” she insisted, cupping his face between her palms. “A nd you belong to me. We just made love!”

  “I know that.” Dear God, the scent of their lovemaking still filled the cabin.

  “Then stop, Rafe. Stop.” She brushed a kiss across his lips. “Don’t push me away. Together we can find a way to get past what happened.”

  “I don’t know.” He shook his head. “I’m not sure I can get past it.”

  “I wasn’t sure I’d survive the trip to California with Michael either. Then a man the likes of whom I never knew existed helped me, showed me that I’m stronger than I ever thought. Now I’m sure I can do anything I put my mind to.” She squeezed his hand. “You can, too.

  I’ll help.”

  He felt a melancholy smil
e pull his mouth. “You’re determined to help me, aren’t you?”

  “Yes, because you did the right thing.” Maggie gripped his chin and forced him to look into her eyes.

  “You took one life, but saved two. It would have killed the mother if Shane shot her boy. No matter what happened after that, her life would have been over.” She brushed the tears that rolled down his face, then swiped her own. “Only a good man could make that kind of impossible choice.”

  “But—”

  She placed her fingers over his mouth again. “A nd only a good man would still be haunted by that decision.” Rafe searched her face, blinking once, twice, then shook his head. How could she still call him a good man?

  “You know it’s true. I’ve heard the right choice is the hardest one to make. Shane chose his fate.” She cupped his cheek. “Stop blaming yourself. You stopped a killer and rapist.”

  His eyes slid shut, and he dropped his head to the back of the chair again.

  He started rocking again, a gentle, soothing rhythm, holding Maggie like a child. They rocked until his eyes grew heavy.

  “Maggie?” Rafe kissed her forehead.

  “Hmm.” She snuggled to him.

  “Let’s go to bed. Come on. We’ll be more comfortable there.”

  He stood and groaned, working the kinks from his body. Maggie swayed, a large yawn wrinkling her face.

  “I shouldn’t have sat on you so long.” Her hands smoothed over his tense shoulders. “Come on.” She took him by the hand. “I’ll rub your back.”

  He lay face down across the bed, and she knelt on the mattress, kneading his muscles like bread dough.

  “Feel good?”

  “Yes.” He rolled to his side. “But I need to hold you.” Needed to convince himself she wasn’t going to change her mind.

  He tugged Maggie into his arms and ran his hand through her hair, twisting her curls around his finger, dreading to tell the rest of the story. Knowing it had to be done.

  “I headed to St. Louis that night,” he whispered. “I left my sergeant in charge, loaded the body, and didn’t stop until I reached Jefferson Barracks.” His eyes closed.