Chapter 19

19

She loved him?

She couldn't mean it, could she? Was she just saying the words to soothe him? To make his anger go away?

He knew he ought to contradict her. But at the trembling of her fingers against his cheeks and the vulnerability widening her eyes, all the anger that had festered inside him since Worth's General Store dissipated, and he couldn't make himself deny her love.

Yes, he still needed so many more answers. He needed to understand what had driven her to such deception—why she'd resorted to answering a newspaper advertisement, and why she'd fled west and used a different name.

After having gotten to know just how kind and caring she was, there had to be a reason for everything she'd done. Maybe she'd been in trouble. Maybe she still was. And maybe he could protect her.

At the moment, however, her declaration of love continued to swell within him. Was it true?

He needed to hear her say it again.

"What did you say?" he whispered, unable to stop himself from taking in every part of her face—her smooth forehead, arched eyebrows, long lashes, high cheekbones, perfect lips, gently pointed chin. Her skin was paler than usual, making her eyes bluer.

How could she be more beautiful today than yesterday? How was that possible? And why did he have to be so attracted to her?

He didn't want to need her, but after being away from her since yesterday, he was famished for her. And after the past hours of not knowing where she was or what had happened, his relief at finding her only added fuel to the need that was combusting inside him.

"I'm sorry," she whispered again.

"No, after that." He knew he shouldn't let his gaze drop to her damp bodice, but he did anyway. And through the wet material, he could make out the lacy outline of her chemise.

"I love you." This time as she spoke the words, she lifted on her toes, as though she wanted to offer him a kiss.

She loved him. She'd said it twice, which meant she hadn't spoken it accidentally. And she wanted to kiss him.

What more did he need? They could work out all the rest in time, couldn't they?

Maybe he was too easily giving way to his desires and wasn't thinking logically about the situation, but suddenly, all that mattered was kissing her.

He dipped down and met her, covering her mouth with his. The moment of their meshing, his body trembled with a wanting that went so deep it threatened to undo him. All he knew was that he'd been waiting for a long time to have a love like this, and he'd finally found it. Maybe not in the way he'd been expecting, but it was still there in all the messiness and beauty mixed together.

Now, as their lips heated against one another, their kissing felt like one of the volcanoes he'd read about in ancient history—one that had lain dormant but was now bubbling to life, burning hot and flaming explosively, ready to burn everything in its path.

Her hands slid upward from his cheeks to his hat. In the next instant, she lifted it from his head, tossed it on the bed, and then dove her fingers into his hair, all while meeting his kiss stroke for stroke.

At her grip tightening within his hair, he couldn't hold back a groan. His hands skimmed up her back and at the same time drew her closer so that the distance closed between them, and in the next instant she and all her beautiful curves were pressed tightly against him.

There was no more keeping the heat of their passion dormant. No more denying it was there. No more pretending it didn't exist. They couldn't. Not after this kiss.

In fact, he was burning up with such fervor that he had half a mind to scoop her up, lie down on the bed with her, and let them get carried away. But he couldn't—not with Tanner waiting with Boone downstairs.

He had to rein in his passion for now. They'd have plenty of time later to get carried away. Shoot, they'd have every day for the rest of their lives to kiss as long and as often as they wanted.

With a self-control that made his hands tremble, he gentled the kiss, slowing it, letting the exploration of each other's mouths grow more languid. But even as he did so, the passion was taut within him, the need for her strong, so that he wanted to do more than just explore her mouth.

Bracing his shoulders, he broke the kiss. Then he braced his hands on her shoulders, trying to make himself step back. But even as he did so, he bent in and stole another kiss.

She released a soft sound of pleasure the moment his lips connected again, and she swayed close.

"I love you too." His declaration was hoarse against her lips, and he wanted to wrap her up again into his arms and hold her and never let her go.

But at the echo of his words, she halted and stiffened. She released her hold of his hair and dropped her arms to her sides.

He couldn't let go of her, though. He rubbed his hands from her shoulders, down her arms, and then to her hips. He loved feeling every soft part of her and couldn't get enough. How had he lived without this touching?

She took another step back and then another, breaking their contact. She didn't stop until she was pressed against the wall. "I'm sorry, Ryder. I'm so sorry." Even in the low light of the cloudy afternoon, he could see the tears pooling in her eyes.

She'd already apologized once. Why was she doing so again? "We'll work it all out, darlin'," he said softly. But even as he tried to reassure her, a low tremor of anxiety began to pulse through him. Something wasn't right.

"I never meant to fall in love with you." Her voice wobbled. "I have no right to love you. Not when I have to return to New York City."

"You don't have to—"

"I have no choice. My stepmother is my guardian, and she's sent men to retrieve me."

His mind was tumbling in an effort to understand everything she was saying. "So you came to escape her?"

She nodded. "Constance was a friend of mine who worked at the orphanage. She had two marriage proposals, and so we decided I would take yours. And since you just wanted a mother for your baby, I didn't think it would matter if I came and took care of the baby for a while."

"For a while?"

"Until I turn twenty-one next summer and am no longer under my stepmother's authority."

His mind reeled with her revelation. "So you never planned to stay?" He couldn't keep his tone from turning hard.

"No." She was breathing heavily from their kissing, her chest still rising and falling rapidly. Her lips were swollen, and her cheeks contained a pale pink. And even though he was trying to absorb the information she was finally sharing, his body tightened with the need to crush her against him, kiss her hard, and make her promise to stay with him forever.

But it was finally time for him to know the truth about everything, and he couldn't let his need for her blind him any longer.

"What were you going to do?" he asked. "Use me and Boone for a year, then throw us away when you no longer needed us?"

She released a small cry of despair. "That's not fair. I would never do that."

"Then what?" An ache stabbed his chest, like a knife plunged deep. "How were you planning to tell me you were going? And how were you expecting Boone to handle losing his ma?"

"I thought I could take care of him like I did the orphans, loving him and yet not getting too close."

"Is that right?" The anger from earlier was returning, but this time laced with pain. "And I suppose you were hoping he wouldn't get close to you either?"

A tear slipped out and trailed down her cheek. "I admit, I did not anticipate that we'd both grow so attached to each other so soon."

"So after a year, you were hoping he wouldn't need a ma any longer?"

"No, I'd planned to hire a housekeeper or nursemaid as a replacement."

"Really? Did you think your plan would work?"

She paused. Her face crumpled, and she placed both hands over her face. "No. Of course not. It was a terrible idea. I understand that now."

He knew he was being hard on her. Because he'd initially considered hiring help for Boone too. But somewhere along the way, he'd realized Boone needed a permanent woman in his life. And he'd also realized he needed a permanent woman too.

Genevieve sniffled behind her hands. "I never should have agreed to take Constance's place. But you mentioned that you just wanted a partnership. Just a mother. Not a wife."

Just a mother. Not a wife. Maybe he hadn't said those exact words in his communication with Constance, but that's what he'd thought he'd wanted.

She dropped her hands to reveal her tear-stained cheeks. "I thought I could do what you asked—take care of the baby in exchange for a place to live. But I was wrong."

And he'd been wrong too. "I thought all I wanted was a partnership. And maybe with any other woman, I would have been satisfied with that." He blew out a tense breath. "But not with you."

"You didn't want a wife, Ryder."

"I do now." His voice came out harsh.

She was studying his face, as though she was preparing herself for a goodbye. "I can't be your wife."

"You already are."

She shook her head, the tears dripping down her cheeks again. "If I don't leave you and return to New York City, my stepmother will find a way to destroy you."

"I'd like to see her try." He started toward her, the anger inside evaporating and leaving behind desperation.

She held out a hand to stop his progression. "She's already trumped up charges against you."

"Like what?" He halted only a few steps from her.

"I don't know. But she'll find a way to slander you, accuse you of crimes, and ruin you as a way to punish me. And right now, you need your reputation to stay unblemished so that you can win the fight against Sadie to keep Boone."

He paused his thoughts and let her warning sink in. As much as he wanted to protest that he didn't care what her stepmother did to him, he didn't just have himself to think about. He had to do what was right for Boone now, too, and couldn't jeopardize his parental rights.

Genevieve swiped at her cheeks. "Lenora has already destroyed the life and reputation of one good man that I'd intended to marry. I won't let her destroy your life now too."

Had Genevieve been engaged to someone else? And if so, how recently?

Although a flicker of jealousy flared to life inside him, something else did too—the realization that he knew so little about this woman. In fact, everything he'd thought he'd known was based on a lie.

Instead of being a poor working-class woman, she was wealthy and had a lifestyle that he knew nothing about—one so far removed from the wilderness of Colorado that it was unfathomable to him. She had probably intended to marry someone wealthy, within the same social circles and with an exemplary family history. Not an orphan with no idea who his family was or where they'd come from.

In fact, he couldn't fault her stepmother for being opposed to Genevieve running away across the country and marrying a stranger. If Genevieve had been his family, he would have been against her doing that too.

"I love you, Ryder," she whispered, her eyes brimming with anguish. "And as hard as it will be to leave you and Boone, I have to do it. There is no other way to keep you both together and safe."

She watched him expectantly, as though hoping he'd offer another solution, a way for them to be together in spite of all the obstacles.

But she'd been born to have the kind of life he could never provide for her on his little homestead in the mountains. If Sadie, who'd grown up in the high country, couldn't adjust to life on the ranch, how would Genevieve make it? She would grow restless—if she wasn't already. Eventually she might become resentful of having so little and being so far away from the life she'd always known.

Even if they'd never had her stepmother to worry about, Genevieve didn't belong here. She deserved a man who could give her everything she was used to, not a broken man with a broken past who'd never planned for a future.

Yes, she'd said she loved him, and he most definitely loved her, but maybe love wasn't always enough.

He steeled his shoulders, knowing what he needed to do. She was leaving him because she cared about him. And he was doing the same for her. There was no sense in dragging out the goodbye.

He gave her a nod. Then he swiped his hat from the bed, jammed it on his head, and crossed to the door. He didn't pause as he opened the door and stepped into the hallway. He didn't pause when he shut the door and started away from the room. And he didn't pause even when a muted sob came from behind the closed door.

His chest burned and his throat ached, but he forced himself to take one step after another. If he didn't, he knew he'd never be able to leave her behind, and he'd destroy them both.