Rafe's Redemption Page 21

  Who was she fooling? She’d already done everything she knew to do. What if Rafe got worse instead of better?

  Wrapping her arms around Wolf’s fuzzy neck, she sobbed. “Please, God, I love him so much. Don’t take him from me now.”

  ****

  The next morning Maggie climbed to her feet.

  Sleeping on the floor had been stupid. She felt as wrung out as a dishrag.

  Rafe had slept the night through without waking.

  While he didn’t look any better, he didn’t look any worse.

  The blistered flesh on his shoulder had crusted, but didn’t have any pus along the edge. Once she was more awake, she’d check and change the bandage on his head.

  She walked to the fireplace where supper sat congealed in the pot. Wrinkling her nose, she dumped the mess into Wolf’s bowl. Maybe she would be hungry later. Right now all she wanted was coffee. While the pot brewed, she walked to the bed.

  Rafe’s cheeks felt warm, but not hot. A nd his breathing was steady. Surely those were good signs.

  They had to be.

  Halfway through her fourth cup of coffee, he groaned. She scrambled to the bed and grasped his hand.

  “Hold on, Rafe. You’ll be fine,” she whispered, then brushed a kiss to his forehead. Was it hotter than an hour ago? She touched his skin again and a soft groan escaped his dry lips.

  What else could she do for him?

  She filled a cup with whiskey-water and lifted his head, managing to get a sip down his throat. Would that be enough for now?

  Hot tears rolled down her face. Why couldn’t he just wake up?

  Her fingers trailed over his soft beard, his strong jaw.

  H e was strong. A nd healthy. He would overcome this.

  But what if he doesn’t?

  “Please get better. I waited so long to find someone like you. Don’t leave me now.” She brushed away the tears that streamed down her face. He wouldn’t want her to cry.

  “Take five men and cover the left flank!” Maggie jumped to her feet.

  What time was it? How long had she slept?

  Rafe kicked all the quilts off his body. “Private, take your horse and get this message to Captain Hines.” Rafe pressed his fingers into her palm. His skin was burning hot. He looked at her when they touched him, but it wasn’t to her he spoke. “Be careful, son. We need those reinforcements.”

  Maggie blinked. Should she answer him?

  “Well, go on, boy.” He pushed at her arm. “Hurry.” She hesitated, unsure what to say. “Go, Private!”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Rafe closed his eyes. His head tossed back and forth on the pillow. If he kept that up, his head would start bleeding again.

  “Everything is fine,” she whispered. “Rest easy.”

  “Mama?” His eyes opened, glazed and unfocused.

  “No. It’s Maggie.”

  His brow wrinkled in confusion, but he didn’t answer.

  She pulled the blankets over him, then brushed a kiss over his lips.

  “I love you,” she said.

  ****

  Rafe slipped in and out of consciousness all day, feverish and fitful, yelling out orders at his troops, kicking the quilts, and cursing everyone he knew. Sweat poured off him, then chills racked his body. The few blankets Maggie could find weren’t enough to keep him warm.

  She reached beneath the bed and dug out her velvet skirt. The yards of material added layers of warmth to his shivering body. When his breathing finally eased and his trembling stopped, she carried in several armloads of wood, then tended to the animals.

  Snow started to fall as she finished. Large flakes stuck to her shoulders and hair as she hurried along the path. It was dark, about the time Rafe would normally come in for supper.

  She swallowed hard against the lump in her throat, imagined him as he would be, brushing the snow off his coat, teasing her before he took her in his arms for a kiss.

  A sob swelled in her chest until she choked trying to hold it inside.

  Soon. He would recover, and things would be back to normal. Repeating the words was the only comfort she had.

  A fter building up the fire, she sat on the edge of the bed. She needed to be near Rafe. No, what she needed was for him to hold her, to take her in his arms, and tell her everything would be all right.

  She blinked back the ever-present tears and stretched out on the mattress beside him. Taking his hand, she entwined their fingers. Then she prayed until she ran out of words. She prayed for Rafe, prayed he’d make it through the night. But mostly she prayed for strength.

  If he wasn’t better by the morning, she was going to get Cecil.

  By midnight, Rafe’s fever soared. She gathered all the towels and rags, then soaked them in cool water before laying them over his body.

  “Goddamn it.” He pushed her hands away. “Get those off me.”

  His eyes glittered hot and unfocused.

  “No.” She soaked the material again and replaced them, fighting his insistent hands. “Leave them alone.

  That’s an order, Captain.”

  He blinked. “Yes, sir.” His hands fell to his sides.

  She worked throughout the night until, finally, his skin felt cool. Morning light streamed through the single window when he spoke.

  “C-cold.” His teeth chattered around the word. Gray eyes filled with pain stared up at her.

  “I’m so sorry,” she whispered. “I had to get your fever down.”

  She covered him with the blankets and ran to get a cup of water.

  “Here, drink this.” She lifted his head and held the cup to his lips.

  He greedily slurped it down. “More.”

  A fter the second cup, he sighed, then closed his eyes and reached for her hand.

  “Stay.”

  She gripped his fingers. “I will.”

  He nodded, then fell asleep, but the fact that he spoke—and made sense—gave her new hope.

  “I’m staying, boy,” she told Wolf.

  Wolf barked.

  “Well…I don’t know about forever.” How could she choose between the two things she loved most? A nd why did it have to be Rafe or her art?

  Because no man wanted to share, much less come in second. A nd the stronger her love for Rafe became, the greater the risk her art would become second.

  Wolf barked again, pressing his nose against her hand.

  “I don’t know, all right. I haven’t figured out what to do yet.” Didn’t even know where to begin.

  Chapter Eleven

  There wasn’t a spot on his body that didn’t ache.

  Rafe dragged the blankets from his body and tried to sit up, but a wave of nausea roiled his gut. Where was he?

  His head pounded, his shoulder hurt like hell, and his mouth felt like he had picked a field of cotton with his teeth. He cracked open one eye, the light stabbing like a saber.

  Why was he in bed? What had happened? Was he sick?

  Slowly, he turned his aching head.

  Maggie slept in the chair with her head face down on the mattress. He reached out and ran his fingers over her cheek. Good Lord, was she sick? Why wasn’t she in bed with him?

  “Maggie?” he rasped.

  She bolted upright. “What is it?”

  Bleary eyed, she blinked and swiped the hair from her pale face. She looked like hell. Maybe they were both sick.

  She immediately reached for his forehead. “You’re not feverish,” she mumbled sleepily. “A re you cold? You feel cold.”

  The covers were pulled to his chin before he could answer.

  He tried to shake his head. “Thirsty.” God, it hurt to talk.

  “Oh, Rafe.” Her eyes filled with tears. She hugged his waist, sobbing like a child.

  What had he said? “Don’t cry,” he croaked. “I can wait for a drink.”

  He started to wrap his arms around her, but hissed in pain when he moved his shoulder.

  “Oh, be careful.” She sat up and wi
ped her tears with her sleeve. “I’ll get you some water, then I need to check your wounds.”

  What wounds? What in the hell had happened? He wanted to ask, but his sore throat wouldn’t cooperate.

  Water never tasted so good. Cool, soothing. She helped him drink his fill, then gently laid him on the pillow. Her hands trembled when she replaced the cup on the—

  Why was the table moved beside the bed?

  “Maggie, are you sick?”

  She laughed, but tears rolled down her cheeks. “No.

  I’m just tired. But I’ll be fine now that you’re better.”

  “Better?”

  She didn’t answer. Instead she unwound a bandage from his head. What the hell? Whatever happened must have been bad. Why couldn’t he remember?

  “This one looks good.” She uncovered his chest.

  “Your shoulder, too.” Replacing the blanket, she took his hand, gripping his like she was afraid to let go.

  “Maggie, what happened?”

  “I thought they had killed you.”

  He had to strain to hear.

  “They who?”

  “Michael and that evil man from town.”

  Rafe closed his eyes. Memories crash in. He and Wolf had been cutting wood, then—

  His eyes flew open.

  “What happened to them?”

  Maggie curled her feet underneath her bottom and stroked small circles on his palms.

  Her voice quivered. “You killed Joe.”

  “What about your damned cousin?” If he’d touched one hair on her head…

  “I killed him,” she whispered.

  Surely he’d heard wrong. “What?”

  “I shot him. Oh, he’d been shot once already. But he wasn’t dead. He begged me to help him.” A shudder racked her body.

  His heart ached for her. “Tell me.”

  “I can’t.” She snuggled to his good side, tears sliding off his chest onto the mattress.

  “Why?”

  “Because it’s all my fault. If you hadn’t helped me in Cougar Creek, they wouldn’t have hurt you.” Sobs shook the bed.

  “No, sweetheart,” he soothed. “They were greedy bastards, and it finally caught up with them. That’s why they’re dead.” He pulled her closer and rubbed her back, mentally cursing that the small gesture took all his strength.

  “But you almost died.” She sniffled and pressed a kiss to his tear-streaked chest.

  “But I didn’t.” He stroked her back. “I’m too ornery to die.”

  “No, you’re not,” she wailed. “You’re the most wonderful man in the world.” She sat up, tears rolling down her pale cheeks. “I think I would have died if—if—” She shuddered as a another sob racked her body. “I love you so much. It’s all right if you don’t love me back. You said you did that night, but maybe you didn’t know what you were saying.” Her voice was getting higher, the words coming out faster and faster. “So you don’t have to lie and say you do. It’s fine if you don’t. I don’t want you to say something you don’t feel. I’m not even sure where this is going—”

  Maggie, stop!” She was making his head hurt worse.

  He wasn’t even sure if she knew what she said. Her exhaustion was apparent, and she was close to hysterics.

  She took a deep, shuddering breath.

  “Sweetheart, I may not have had all my wits that night, but make no mistake, I do love you.” His voice was hoarse, but not because of illness. The feelings rolling through him were overwhelming. “You are the finest, bravest woman I’ve ever known. The woman I love. You’re my best friend.”

  Her eyes widened. “Honestly?”

  “Yes, my Maggie. Honestly.” He pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “Without your help, I would have died.” She trembled in his embrace. “I was so scared. I…” A large yawn escaped. “I didn’t think I would be able…to…” Her words were so muffled Rafe leaned closer to hear.

  “To what?”

  A soft snore was the answer.

  “My poor love.” He gently pulled part of the blanket over her. “You’ve been sleeping in that chair, haven’t you?”

  He moved carefully, trying to get comfortable without waking her. His mouth still felt like cotton, but he couldn’t reach the cup and she needed to rest. He needed the same. Even though he’d only been awake a short time, his eyes were getting heavy.

  Her hair fanned over his chest, crossing his stomach.

  He slowly threaded his fingers through the thick mess.

  She hadn’t been taking any time for herself. Knots tangled several pieces.

  A s soon as he felt better, he would fix her a hot bath, then wash and comb her hair. He would keep her in bed for a week, kissing every inch of her soft skin, tending to her every want or whim. If ever a woman deserved to be pampered, it was Maggie.

  “Rafe,” she moaned. She stiffened in his arms and tried to sit.

  “Sleep, sweetheart. I’m here.” He stroked her back until she relaxed.

  He closed his eyes and inhaled her scent.

  He’d come damn close to death. His memory was hazy on some parts, but he remembered her voice telling him to stay, her soft touches as she cared for his wounds. Her sobs when she must have thought the end was near.

  Had anyone ever cared so much for him? No. A nd he loved her more than he’d thought possible. She was everything to him.

  He toyed with her hair, just glad to be alive and here with her. She tightened her arm around his waist and mumbled.

  “Shh. I’m fine,” he assured.

  She sighed and resumed snoring. Rafe smiled. She was one of a kind. He wasn’t sure he deserved such a woman, but he was damn thankful she was his.

  ****

  “Don’t say another damn word, because I’m eating at the table. I’ve been in bed a week. I can’t take it anymore.”

  Rafe teetered bare chested to the table despite Maggie’s objections. Even though her concern was sweet, if he had to stay in that bed another day he would lose his mind.

  Wolf licked his hand in encouragement. Rafe smiled and continued to shuffle, determined to make it to the chair. Lying around wasn’t in his nature. It damn near killed him to watch her carry wood and tend the animals.

  He made her take naps when he did, but she still looked tired. Too much worry. Too much work.

  How would she ever be able to look back at this time with him and not cringe with resentment?

  “Here you go,” she said, slamming his plate on the table. “Since you insist.”

  “I can’t stay in bed forever, Maggie. Unless you want to get naked and join me.” He grabbed her and waggled his eyebrows. “Then I wouldn’t complain one bit.” She sank into the rocker across from him and shook her head. “I think walking is enough exertion for today.” Her prim voice made him laugh, though it pained him to admit she was right. His body shook from the effort of getting to the table. He gripped his fork and hoped she wouldn’t notice the tremble.

  “I’ll go to bed after breakfast, but I want to whittle.” If she noticed his petulant tone, she didn’t comment.

  Good damn thing. His project was a gift for her.

  “A ll right. But you have to get some rest, too.”

  “I will,” he agreed, but only so she wouldn’t be worried.

  He hadn’t realized how hungry he was until he took the first bite. The hot biscuit melted in his mouth.

  “You need to eat.” He nodded to her plate.

  “I will.” She sounded as tired as she looked.

  He finished all his food and nibbled on a second biscuit while making sure she ate everything on her plate.

  When she stood, he took her hand and pulled it to his lips.

  “I love you.” His kissed her fingers. “More than you know.”

  She smiled then, the first genuine smile he’d seen in awhile. “I love you, too.”

  She carried the empty plates to the wash pan while he finished his coffee. “I’ll go outside and get you a stick a
fter I wash these.”

  “No need.” He took his time standing but felt stronger since eating. “I have a piece of wood in my haversack.”

  She followed him to the bed like a mother hen.

  “I’m not going to fall over, you know.” He didn’t like her having to take care of him. It just caused her extra work.

  She pursed her lips at him but refrained from scolding. He deserved it, but being helpless—or near to it

  —made him irritable.

  Carefully he bent to retrieve the sack from beneath the bed. A nd the whole room tilted.

  He clutched the mattress, but Maggie was already there. She wrapped her arms around him and helped him sit on the bed.

  Well, she’d say “I told you so” for sure, now. A nd even though she had the right, he didn’t want to hear it.

  But he braced for the inevitable.

  “Is your knife under here, too?” She pulled the sack out and placed it on the bed.

  “Huh?” Rafe blinked. “Oh, yeah. There should be a small one in there.” She never did what he expected.

  She propped the pillow behind him and waited until he scooted back.

  He hesitated, his hand in the bag. “Um, what are you going to do?” He couldn’t very well make her a present while she stood over him.

  “I think I’ll draw for awhile.” She smiled and brushed her fingertips over his cheek. “Don’t worry. I won’t hover since you’re resting.”

  He caught her before she pulled away. “I’m sorry.” He kissed her palm. “I just feel so damn useless.” She leaned into him, carefully running her hand over his scarred shoulder as she had a habit of doing now. “A s long as you’re here and well, I don’t care if you’re lazy as a hound dog.”

  He scoffed, but she pressed her lips to his.

  “I mean it.” Her eyes shined with unshed tears, and his heart broke, knowing how much he had worried her.

  He opened her mouth with his and pulled her against him. Hard. She moaned low in her throat. Had she missed this pleasure, too? God, he ached to feel her body beneath his. The more he healed, the more he wanted her. He wasn’t strong enough yet to hold his weight above her while they made love, but there were other ways.

  His cock hardened beneath his pants. He slid his hands down her sides and squeezed her ass, then walked his fingers under her shirt, rolling a nipple between his fingers.