After days of dancing and flirting with him, she had crawled into his bed all soft, womanly, and inviting. They had come together with tempestuous passion. For three of the best weeks of his life, she had been his woman, and he’d hoped he would not let her go despite his fears. Then Thomas had returned and Elijah had learned Sheridan had never truly been his. Her deception had been a saving grace really, for without it, surely, he would have taken her to be his wife. And that would have been a blasted foolish thing to do.
***
Sheridan wished Elijah’s touch had lingered a little longer. The warmth of his palms had been a heated caress on her skin. Will I ever stop craving him? She wanted him so desperately she couldn’t stand the ache. Sheridan closed her eyes in bittersweet longing, wondering if he would ever soften toward her. She’d fought against heartbreak every day since they have been separated.
She removed the soaked pants and dropped them on the floor with the remainder of her bloody clothes. The shirt could not be saved, but she would rinse her pants and drawers and lay them out to dry. She turned on the spigot, crying out at the cold of the water. Sheridan dashed under the piping, moving with grim efficiency, scrubbing the blood from her skin with the sandalwood soap in the bath chamber. Within a few minutes she stepped from the bath area shivering. With brisk movements, she used the buffalo skin towel to dry herself. Her hands caressed the soft welt on her lower back. He had seen her lashes. Her stomach churned at the memory.
The lash of the whip as Thomas had wielded it had been like a red-hot iron brand against her flesh. Sheridan’s stomach had roiled, and sweat had broken out with shivers all over her body. She had collapsed to the floor from the first lash, too numb to even scream. The second stroke had loosened her tongue as true agony had engulfed her body. That was when Elijah came. The memory of the whip parting her flesh, and washing her with blood as cold pain gripped her, paled to the memory of the merciless calm with which Elijah had beaten Thomas.
Elijah had terrified her. Thomas had lain abed for days recovering. She had only known Elijah as the teasing gentle lover, but that day she had felt a sliver of fear for Elijah’s wrath. He’d held his hunting knife against Thomas’s throat, and she had pleaded for him to spare Thomas’s life. That was the last time she had seen Elijah, almost a year ago, until the funeral.
She exited the bath and climbed the stairway to the bedchamber. She hurried to the chest and withdrew a blanket, wrapping it around her body. Her eyes scanned the room, loving the rough rustic design of it. It held only a single large bed, a wooden chair, and several rugs.
With a heavy sigh, she turned her thoughts to the current situation. How am I to convince him? Elijah was so unapproachable. Her plans to seduce him and compromise his honor so he would marry her seemed so silly now, but was there really any other option?
There was nothing for her in London, and she doubted she could return if she wished to. The path she had set for herself was a bloody hard one, but she would travel it. He would resist her and if she was not careful he would destroy her. He had always been a hard man, but for a glorious while he had been hers, and she wanted that back.
She shrugged into a blue flannel shirt, inhaling his scent. It hung loose on her, the hem falling well below her hips to her mid thighs. Her stomach rumbled as she tentatively descended the stairs and stepped into the wide-open area that was the parlor. The cabin was smooth and polished to a fine luster. The furniture was simple, robust and masculine. A large fireplace graced one corner, with a huge bearskin rug. The fireplace roared but he was nowhere to be seen. She glanced at the door and knew that he stood outside in the bracing cold. She winced. Even now the chill in the cabin was unbearable despite the fire.
She took hesitant steps towards the door, and then squared her shoulders, lifting her chin. He needed to hear her out because there was no one else she could turn to for aid. She walked towards the cabin door, heart thumping, hoping that the memories of all they had shared would thaw him.
Chapter Four
“I have finished washing.”
The soft huskiness of Sheridan’s voice pulled him from his reverie and Elijah inhaled the chill into his lungs. He launched to his feet and passed her in the doorway using sheer willpower to prevent himself from drawing her into his arms. He had thought after being away from her sensual softness for over a year that the burn of betrayal would have lessened. It had not, nor had the deep visceral need for her sighs, laughter, and kisses.
Ah fucking hell, she stood in one of his flannel shirts. She was a tiny thing, with all womanly curves, which were more than a handful. She had nothing else underneath as her breasts thrust against the material. Her hair hung loose and wild and she had no idea how sensual she looked. His willpower was tested, as he had the insane urge to tumble her, part her legs and feast on her sweetness.
He walked into the kitchen and she followed. There was a stone island in the center of the area, the only thing that separated the living area from the kitchen. She sat on one of the stools in front of the island, calmly waiting. In silence he poured coffee into two tin mugs and slid one towards her. He placed slices of cheese, cold meat, and bread on a plate and handed it to her.
“Thank you.”
Thunder rumbled distantly and he glanced through the window into the night sky. It was black and starless, and in a few hours the rain would come. She inhaled the aroma of the coffee deep before taking tentative sips. She made a small sound of pleasure at the back of her throat.
His jaw locked at the sound. The sensual sight of her as she took in the scent of the coffee hardened him. What was it about her that always roused him so easily?
Ignoring the reaction of his body he queried flatly, “Tell me about the boy.”
Her eyes widened, and he could see the pulse that fluttered at her throat. She gently lowered the tin cup, and raked her hand through her mass of hair and bit into her lips deeply. “Grayson is nine months old today, but he is Beth’s son. His resemblance to your family is unmistakable. He needs your protection. If Mr. Sullivan were to ever succeed in taking over the ranch…it would not bode well for Grayson, Beth, and me.”
Elijah had not known Thomas’s sister had a babe. It was also highly unlikely one of his brothers would have a child in the world unclaimed. Her claim was possibly a ruse to drag his presence to the ranch. He did not like the desperation it implied. “If the boy is a Kincaid, why did you not travel to the Triple K?”
“I…” her throat convulsed and the knuckles that gripped the tin cup whitened. She held her head with a proud tilt. “Triple K is in Colorado. You were closer. And the baby is not the only one in need of protection.”
“Why do you need my help?”
She was contemplative for an infinite amount of time. Her face was very expressive, and he wondered how he could have ever been duped by her.
“Mr. Sullivan now owns the Double Diamond spread. He has bought out the Moutons and several others. His spreads now rival the Whispering Creek. He had approached Thomas about watering and grazing rights for his cattle, because his cattle outnumber ours by three to one.”
She shivered despite the fire that blazed from the hearth. He strode over to the sofa and grabbed the blanket and threw it to her. She wrapped it around herself, chafing her hands together for warmth.
“He has approached me several times to buy the ridge, several acres of our land and the mines. I denied him and his persistence is turning underhanded. He then made it clear that he will have me.” She swallowed, and her cheeks burned bright red.
“I refused, but he is getting frightening. I know he believes if he marries me he will get the land through me. I do not think he knows of your partnership with Thomas.”
“This does not tell me why you came up here, Sheridan. All you had to do was inform Sullivan of my ownership and let him bring the fight to me.”