Laura Drewry Read online

  Gabe started, lost his balance, and teetered precariously at the creek’s jagged bank. Tess reached out and grasped as much of his jacket as she possibly could. He swayed once, twice, and then regained his balance, bumping right back into Tess. She tripped and went down hard on her backside. Gabe whirled around but wasn’t quick enough to prevent her fall.

  “Tess!” He stood over her, looking flustered at first and then shocked when she burst into a fit of laughter. There she sat in the middle of a patch of fuchsia fireweed—her hair covered in wayward petals, her dress rumpled—and all she could do was laugh until she cried.

  Gabe shook his head slowly, a grin spreading across his face.

  “Well, I’ll be . . . are you hurt?” he asked, crouching down on his haunches.

  “Only my pride.” She laughed, her cheeks burning.

  Their eyes met and held, her laughter dying on her suddenly parched lips. Her heart jumped, skipped, and then stopped all together. God help her if he didn’t . . .

  Gabe’s mouth eased slowly toward hers until their mouths were but a breath apart. He hesitated, wavered and was about to pull back when Tess moved. Her hands reached for his face, gently tugging him down until he could no longer fight. His head dipped, barely brushing his lips against hers.

  The mere whisper of her touch hit him with the force of a firing cannon. He had to have more, to taste her, to feel her against him. His mouth searched hers, caressing it with gentle yet firm strokes. She leaned into him, her own lips responding with the same deep hunger he felt himself.

  Gathering her into the circle of his arms, he pulled her against him, her heart pounding against his own as if they were one, beating the same rhythm. She went willingly, her soft curves molding perfectly to the contours of his hard, lean body.

  He had to stop—this was crazy. He shouldn’t be kissing her, shouldn’t be holding her so close. He shouldn’t be reacting this way—what the hell was going on, anyway? He’d kissed plenty of women before Tess Kinley, but none of them had ever wreaked such havoc with his thoughts. Or his heart.

  Cussing softly, he released her, his lips reaching for one final caress.

  “Oh, Gabriel,” she breathed, her lids lowered still as though she were lost in a dream. “I . . .”

  “I’m sorry,” he rasped. “I shouldn’t have done that.”

  “I . . .” Tess’s brain swirled and tumbled as quickly as her heart, until her mouth was unable to form a sentence. Never in her wildest dreams had she imagined she would ever be kissed like that—with such tenderness or such fierceness. Or such love.

  “We best be going.” Gabe took her hands and eased her to her feet, allowing her a moment to steady her trembling knees. Her beautiful face absolutely glowed, radiant with the evidence of his kisses, her mouth swollen and smiling. He returned her to her spot in the wagon and climbed up beside her.

  Lord Almighty, he was in trouble. One kiss would never be enough. No matter how long he lived, or how many other women he might kiss, he would never be the same. No one would ever touch him the way she had just done. And it tore at his heart he’d let her.

  Oh, he wanted her, body and soul, as much as—or perhaps more than—she wanted him; but he could not, would not, give himself to her the way she wanted. He had to send her away, no matter how much it made his insides ache, no matter how much arguing and trouble she might kick up. Letting her stay would only bring more pain.

  Despite his misgivings, Gabe was unable to prevent his hardened heart from weakening a little. The light in her eyes was merely a reflection of his soul, and try as he might, he could not wipe the smile off his face. She looked so happy. Did he do that to her?

  “I’m wondering something, Gabriel,” she said, a gentle smile curving her full lips.

  Gabe chuckled. “I’m almost afraid to ask.”

  “However will you explain me to the good citizens of Porter Creek?”

  Gabe’s smile didn’t waver. “Easy. I’ll tell them you’re my crazy cousin from San Francisco who escaped from the asylum and you’re hiding out here until you’re found.”

  “Gabriel!” she gasped. “You wouldn’t!”

  He laughed. “Yes, I would. Look at you—you’re all rumpled and wrinkled. You’ve got a tangle of flowers in your hair and you look . . .” Downright good enough to eat!

  Tess smoothed her hair, pulling out mashed flowers as she went. Finished, she turned to face him. He felt his face pale under her gaze, while she glowed more and more every time he looked at her.

  “Tess,” he said.

  “No.” She stiffened, clasping her hands in her lap. “Don’t say it, Gabriel, because I won’t listen.”

  He sighed softly, his right hand reaching to cover hers.

  “You can’t stay here.”

  “Yes, I can!” Tears scorched the back of her eyes, fighting to flow. How could such a perfect moment be ruined so quickly?

  “Tess.” His voice was gentle, too gentle.

  “You can’t send me away, Gabriel. We belong together.”

  “No, we don’t. You belong with someone who can take proper care of you, who can offer you whatever your heart desires, someone who can love you the way you deserve to be loved.”

  Tess choked back a sob but her voice wavered. “You can take proper care of me, you are what my heart desires, and you love me the way I deserve to be loved.”

  “No.” Gabe had to say it twice. The first time wasn’t nearly as convincing as it should have been.

  “But you kissed me. . . .”

  “Yes,” he said. “I shouldn’t have and I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.”

  “But I want it to happen again!”

  “Tess.” He chuckled sadly. “Ladies don’t say things like that.”

  “I don’t care! It’s the truth. And you can’t tell me you don’t want it to happen again either.”

  “It’s lust, Tess. That’s all it is, plain and simple.” He had never mastered the art of lying.

  “No, it wasn’t, Gabriel Calloway, and you know it.”

  “Tess . . .”

  She pulled her hands from his and turned his face to hers.

  “Look me in the eye and tell me it was only lust.” Her eyes blazed right through him, scorching the lie that lay unspoken on his tongue. After a moment of spark-filled silence, he faced forward and clicked to the horses, sending them off toward town.

  The clang of the church bell broke the silence between them. Gabe steered the horses down the dusty main street of Porter Creek past the dozen or so businesses that lined the wooden walkways until he reached the tiny whitewashed schoolhouse, which doubled as the church. Several wagons were already tied to the low-hanging branches of the huge willow tree, while other wagons stood off to the side, their horses hobbled where they stood.

  Tongues began wagging before Gabe pulled the wagon to a stop under a willow. In the tree’s shade, he threw the reins loosely over the lowest branch. Men and women alike stopped all previous conversation and wondered aloud why Gabe Calloway was gracing them with such a rare visit and who on earth that creature was beside him.

  Tess forced back a shiver that skimmed over her flesh as Gabe’s hands encircled her waist. Did he hold her a little longer than necessary? Probably not. It must have been her imagination.

  “Mornin’, Gabe.” Apparently the sheriff found it necessary to wear his badge everywhere—church being no exception. An older man with gentle blue eyes and a face full of wrinkles, Tess liked him immediately.

  “Sheriff.” Gabe shook the man’s outstretched hand. “This here’s Tess Kinley. She’s staying with us for a few days. Tess, this is Fergus Nicholls.”

  “That so?” His grin was as warm and friendly as his eyes. “Well, it’s mighty nice to meet you, Miss Kinley. Hope you enjoy your stay.”

  “Thank you, Sheriff.” Tess smiled. “I’m sure I will.”

  “Heard from your brother lately?” he asked Gabe, turning toward the church.

  Gabe smirked
in Tess’s direction. “I rather expect to hear from him any day.” His brows quickly drew together. “Is there a problem?”

  “No.” The sheriff laughed. “Not for Bart, but if you hear from him, would you tell him I’d like a word?”

  Tess lost track of the conversation as she studied her surroundings. The schoolyard was small, with a set of swings hanging low in the huge weeping willow and a little vegetable garden planted close to the back door. A few women lingered near the swings, staring unabashedly at Tess as she made her way toward the church. Tess smiled politely and carried on, head held high.

  She could still feel the warmth of Gabe’s lips, the pounding of their hearts pressed close together. She should be ashamed, being this close to the Lord’s house and all, but she wasn’t. Despite what Gabe might have said afterward, Tess was even more convinced they belonged together. And she was going to do everything in her power to prove that to him.

  “Ladies.” Gabe tipped his head toward the gossiping threesome near the swing, then to Tess he spoke through gritted teeth. “I can’t believe you’re making me do this.”

  “I didn’t twist your arm, Gabriel.” She smiled sweetly at him.

  “No, but Rosa would have if I’d refused.”

  Tess laughed lightly and took a seat in the back row of benches. More than a few heads turned to stare at them, and to each one, Gabe nodded cordially and sat a little taller. He’d half a mind to take Tess in his arms and kiss her soundly right there in front of God and everyone. That’d give them something to stare at, now wouldn’t it?

  “What’s so funny?” Tess whispered.

  Gabe shook his head, motioning toward the good Reverend who was making his entrance.

  “Good morning,” he said from the pulpit, his eyes fixing immediately on Tess and Gabe. “For those of you I have not had the pleasure of meeting, or for those of you who have been too busy to join us and thus may have forgotten who I am, my name is Reverend Samuel Boswell.” He coughed back a laugh. “I welcome one and all to our services here this morning. Perhaps Mrs. Brenner would lead us in an opening hymn.”

  Mrs. Brenner, seated at the old wooden organ, began to play “Amazing Grace” and soon the entire congregation joined in. Tess’s low alto harmonized beautifully with Mrs. Brenner’s soprano and the Reverend’s deep bass. Gabe could form neither the words nor the tune, but could only listen, awestruck by the unwavering silky voice that sprung from the amazing creature beside him.

  So bewildered was he with Tess and his gamut of emotions, Gabe heard not a word of the Reverend’s lengthy sermon or any other voice, except Tess’s, when Mrs. Brenner ended the service with the Twenty-Third Psalm.

  “Gabe Calloway!” Reverend Boswell met them outside the church with a half mocking grin. “I thought perhaps my old eyes were deceiving me when I saw you sitting there.”

  “Reverend.” Gabe nodded.

  “And who is this lovely young lady with you this morning? I assume she’s the reason you’re here today.”

  “Tess Kinley, this is Reverend Boswell. He’s been trying to save my soul for as long as I can remember.”

  “Not an easy task, I assure you. But I haven’t given up the fight yet.” The Reverend laughed. “How do you do, Miss Kinley? Are you visiting our good town, or have you come to put down stakes?”

  “Well, Reverend,” Tess smiled saucily, “that all depends on Gabriel.”

  The Reverend’s eyes moved from Tess to Gabe and then back again.

  “I don’t understand.”

  “Miss Kinley has plans to stay right here in Porter Creek,” Gabe piped up. “But I’ve a mind to have her on the next stage out of town.”

  “Whatever for? This here’s a fine town to settle in.” The good Reverend winked at Tess. “And I’m sure the single gentlemen of this town would be more than happy to see such a pretty new face.”

  Gabe’s chest tightened, his lips drawn to a thin line.

  “If you’ve a mind for it,” the Reverend continued, grinning all the while, “I would be happy to introduce you. . . .”

  “Good day to you, Reverend,” Gabe muttered, ushering a giggling Tess away.

  “Gabriel, that was rude.” She laughed. “He was only trying to be nice.”

  “I know exactly what he was trying to do,” Gabe growled. “And you won’t be here long enough to have need for introductions.”

  Tess laid a hand over her breast and batted her lashes coyly.

  “Why, Gabriel Calloway, you aren’t jealous, are you?”

  Gabe lifted her, almost as if she were weightless, and deposited her unceremoniously into the wagon. He seemed to gather the reins, climb up, and release the brake all in one motion. His face was grim and tight. He was jealous, damn it, and he had absolutely no right to be. He didn’t own her; hell, he didn’t even want her here, and yet there it was—the ugly green face of jealousy staring him right in the eye.

  Chapter 9

  Lonely silence greeted Tess when they arrived home. Gabe marched straight to the barn without so much as a word and, being it was Sunday, everyone else had the day off. She surveyed the house, searching for something—anything—needing to be tended. But to Rosa’s credit, there was not a speck of dust, not a dirty dish, not a single thing out of place. In fact, Tess noted, there weren’t exactly a lot of things to clutter the house up with or for dust to land on.

  The living room furniture consisted of a modest rosewood sofa and matching armchair, both covered in velvety cream-colored upholstery with dainty ivy print. Under the window sat Gabriel’s huge oak desk, covered in organized books, ledgers, and an ink well. The wear on the carpeting ended at the desk, leaving Tess to wonder if the living room was ever used.

  The only sign a family had actually lived in the house was the lone wedding photograph on the mantel. The young couple, Tess assumed to be Emma and Clayton Calloway, smiled brightly into their future. The man, dressed in a fine-looking dark suit, holding his top hat in hand, bore a striking resemblance to Gabriel, despite his much lighter coloring. Emma Calloway fit the exact image Gabriel had painted of her—a lovely, petite woman dressed in an extravagant and very fashionable white dress adorned with swansdown trim, the perfect contrast to her Gabriel-like dark features.

  Tess wandered up the stairs to her room, which, like the rest of the house, had been spared of any homey decorations or designs. The huge oak bed, complete with an amply stuffed tick and two pillows, dwarfed the rest of the room whose only other furnishings were an oak wardrobe that held Gabe’s winter wear and a small round table for the chamber set. Above the table hung a plain oval mirror, but other than that the oatmeal-colored walls were completely bare.

  She sighed. Surely there was something needing attention. What was the old proverb? Was it idle hands or an idle brain that was the devil’s workshop? Either way, she couldn’t sit around doing nothing all day. With a twinge of regret, she changed out of her beautiful new dress, pulled her old worn blue dress back on, and tied her hair up on top of her head.

  The gentle touch of Gabe’s strong hands lingered, in her hair, on her back, around her waist. She shook her head in a vain attempt to release the memory, laced up her boots, and headed out to the garden. Tess retrieved an old hoe lying in the corner by the beans and set to work. Rosa’s garden was as neat and orderly as the inside of the house, the rows of vegetables—ever ything from peas to carrots to onions—set in perfect lines, not a rock out of place. But even Rosa couldn’t keep up with the weeds.

  Tess knelt in the dirt, basking in the warmth of the sun on her back and the soft breeze on her face. Despite Gabriel’s present mood, it was a good day. He had kissed her and that was all that mattered. She would hold that kiss in her heart until the day she died, for Lord only knew if she’d ever experience it again. She bent to her work, relishing in the sheer wonder of it all.

  “Thought you might be thirsty.” Gabe held out an ice-cold glass of fresh lemonade. He forced his mind to look past the tiny smile that lingered on her
lips, past the smudges of dirt across her forehead and cheeks, and past the melody she hummed to the weeds around her. “Sunday’s not a work day, you know.”

  Tess stood, stretched her back and legs, and grinned. “I don’t consider this work. Who would have guessed pulling weeds could be so relaxing?”

  “Not me.”

  “Thank you.” She smiled and swallowed huge gulps of the refreshing drink. “I didn’t know I was so thirsty.”

  Try though he may, Gabe couldn’t help but smile back at her; covered in dirt and muck, she was still the prettiest thing he’d ever seen.

  “You should at least have a hat on,” he said, trying to sound stern. “You’ll get sunstroke out here.”

  “I don’t have one.” Tess’s brow furrowed slightly. “Perhaps Rosa . . .”

  Before she could finish, Gabe removed his Stetson and plunked it on top of her head. It fell down over her ears and covered half her face.

  “Yes,” she laughed. “I can see how wearing a hat is so very helpful.” She pushed it up so it sat back on her head, the large brim still shading her face from the sun. Fire raged through Gabe’s stomach and smoldered within his veins. Dazed, angry, and confused, he still could not hold back the smile that tugged the corners of his mouth.

  “You don’t have to do this you know,” he said.

  “I want to.”

  “Wouldn’t you rather be in the house where it’s cool?” Why did his heart slam against his chest? And why the hell was he standing so close to her?

  “N-no,” she stammered. “It’s too quiet in there. If I have to be by myself, I’d just as soon be outside where at least I’m not alone.”

  She glanced around, motioning to the black squirrel at the foot of the nearby oak tree, the two red-breasted robins sitting on the fence post, and the quick-moving gopher who poked his head up out of his hole and then dove right back down at the sight of Gabe.

  “What are you keeping busy with today?” she asked, her eyes finding their way back to Gabe.

  “Nothing now, just tending the animals. D’you want some help?” The words fell from his mouth before he knew he had spoken them.