Montana Renegade Page 6

  “Warren,” she whispered, “I was being foolish.”

  He shook his head. “No, you weren’t. You informed me of something you like, and I want to honor it.” He frowned. “Why deny yourself that pleasure?” He walked toward her, stopping before touching her as she tensed at his nearness. “Why deny me?”

  “I’ve told you, if you want me, all you have to do is enter my bedroom.” Her voice shook, dispelling any attempted bravado.

  “Ah, but I want more than that, Helen,” he whispered. “I want you to want me.” He met her skittish gaze and moved to a box by the settee. He tugged it so that it sat on the cushion, and he knelt by the side of the settee. “I’d hoped you would help me decorate the tree,” he murmured as he lifted the lid off the box. He watched as she gasped at the ornaments inside.

  She ogled the glass orbs and cylindrical pieces made to look like icicles. “I’ve never seen such elaborate decorations. We only ever used popcorn or paper ornaments.” She looked at him with wonder. “Where did you get these?”

  He shrugged, as though embarrassed. “These were mine when I was younger. My mother sent them to me a few years ago.” He chuckled. “It’s always amazed me what she thought I’d miss from my old life.”

  Helen frowned as her finger accidentally brushed against his in the box. “I thought your parents were dead.”

  “Just my father,” he said in a clipped voice as he stood. He looked at the tree and shook his head in dismay. “What a dismal attempt. If Ewan sees this, I’ll never hear the end to his teasing.”

  “Perhaps we should tie it again to another nail. I’d hate for your beautiful ornaments to be ruined if the tree crashes to the floor.” She smiled as he laughingly agreed to her suggestion, and soon another lifeline for the tree was tacked into the front window frame.

  “There. That’s as sound as it will be. Come. Help me decorate the tree.” He handed her an ornament and then watched as she fingered the needles of the tree again. “Why do you do that?” he whispered.

  She blushed. “I always forget how soft they are. I don’t spend nearly as much time as I would like outside, in nature.” She flushed again. “Although there will always be those who say that I spent too much time out of doors.”

  Warren chuckled as he picked up his own ornament and rose to stand beside her. “Those are voices better off ignored, Helen.” He hung his ornament to one side and saw her hang hers lower down. Soon they worked in tandem as they decorated the tree.

  “I fear the MacKinnons will never forgive me for my behavior,” she whispered and then flushed at his intense stare.

  “You attempted to cause havoc. However, you were never successful.” He smiled as he hung an amethyst-colored ornament. “They will be generous because they are happy and content.”

  She sighed as she looked at the decorated tree. “I’ve never seen such a beautiful tree. It looks like it belongs in one of those magical books, showing us where fairies live.”

  He laughed. “Now I know you’ve spent too much time with the MacKinnons if you are talking about trees and magic and fairies.” His intense gaze bore into hers, and they shared a smile.

  She flushed, her hands playing with the folds of her cranberry-colored skirt. “Thank you, Warren.” When his eyes asked his question, she whispered, “For helping me. For still wanting me.”

  His gaze transformed in an instant. He gripped his hands at his sides as though preventing himself from reaching for her and tugging her to him. “I hope you’ll come to understand I’ll always want you.” She broke away from his penetrating gaze but not before he saw the doubt in her eyes.

  “Don’t promise what you can’t give.” She shivered as his hand cupped her cheek, closing her eyes at his gentle touch. “Warren …”

  “For three years, Nell …” He leaned forward until his forehead touched hers, and they shared the same breath. His large palm cupped the back of her neck, holding her in place. “For years, I’ve dreamed of you. Wanted you.” He eased away so their gazes could meet. “Let me enjoy a Christmas with you. Let me dream.”

  Her eyes filled at the pleading in his voice.

  He frowned at her tears. “Why?” he whispered, his thumbs stroking her cheeks.

  “I’ve never been any man’s dream.” She stuttered out a breath and then gasped a shriek as he tugged her into a hug.

  “You failed to pay attention, Nell. You’ve always been mine.” His hands held her tight, their hold loosening as she relaxed in his arms.

  After a few moments she sniffled and turned her face against his chest to stare to the side. “Thank you, Warren.” His hands continued to stroke her back. “Thank you for letting me share this Christmas with you.”

  He kissed the top of her head, watching as the glass ornaments sparkled and shone in the lamp and firelight. “If I get my Christmas wish, this is the first of many.” He eased his hold on her as she pushed away from him.

  Her hazel eyes rounded as she studied him, as though attempting to determine the veracity of his words. After a moment she traced her hand over his cheek, scraping her fingers across the stubble there. “I …” She flushed and then stood on her toes and raised her mouth, kissing him softly.

  After a moment’s shocked hesitation from him, he groaned and pulled her tightly against him, deepening the kiss. Large palms raked through her hair before caressing her back and bottom. He groaned as her hands scrubbed through his hair, sprinkling pine needles onto his shoulders and the floor.

  Swallowing her gasp, he tugged her with him, collapsing on the settee with her kneeling over him. His fingers tugged at her skirts, pulling them until she had the freedom to sit astride his hips.

  She broke the kiss, nibbling down his neck, gasping as he palmed a breast, and then she arched her back. All thought of protesting fled as she lost herself to the glory of his touch and kisses.

  After another deep, all-consuming kiss, he broke away from her, his chest heaving as he gasped for breath. “No,” he whispered. “This isn’t improper.” He tugged her against his chest, cradling her to him. “Let me hold you like this,” he whispered.

  “I’m too heavy,” she protested, pushing on him to rise.

  He brushed blond hair from her cheeks and chuckled. “You’re perfect, Nell. And you feel perfect, sitting on my lap.” He sighed with contentment as she collapsed onto his chest as though out of energy to rise.

  “You make me feel cherished,” she whispered. She listened as his deep voice rumbled in his chest.

  “You are, Nell. You are.” He sat there for many minutes, holding her in his arms as the multicolored glass ornaments shone and glittered in the firelight.

  Warren sat in front of the tree on Christmas morning with the fire roaring and two stockings hung over the fireplace. He took a sip of warm mulled cider that he had heated and waited for Helen to emerge from her bedroom. The glass ornaments—emerald, aquamarine, gold and scarlet—twinkled and sparkled on the tree. He set his head against the back of the tall chair, his memories returning to long-ago Christmases in Philadelphia. He closed his eyes as he remembered the joy of racing down the stairs, seeing the piles of presents under the tree, knowing he’d receive exactly what he desired.

  “What a spoiled fool,” he muttered as he recalled the days when his greatest desire was to receive a pony or a red sleigh.

  Her voice cut into his recollections. “I have to agree you can be foolish, but you’ve never acted like a spoiled fool.”

  He saw her hesitating at the entrance to the parlor, and he held out his hand for her to join him. He frowned when she curled up on the settee, on the opposite side of his chair, pulling a blanket over her lap. “I’m surprised your estimation of me has risen that much.”

  She shook her head. “Let’s not fight,” she whispered. “Not today.” Her eyes were luminous and mournful. “Merry Christmas, Warren.”

  He took a deep, stuttering breath and swallowed. “Happy Christmas, Helen. I’m so glad you are here with me today.”


  She flushed at his words and looked at her hands clenched on her lap. “I find that hard to believe. Your Christmas is very different because I am here with you today.”

  Warren rolled his eyes as he relaxed into his chair, his legs stretched in front of him. “Yes, it is.” He met her worried gaze. “Rather than sitting by myself, wishing for you, you are here with me.” He frowned as she shook her head in incredulity. “I hope someday you will believe me.”

  She wrung her hands together. “I have no gift for you,” she whispered. She flinched at his bark of laughter.

  He sighed. “Before you joined me, I was recalling the elaborate holidays at the family mansion in Philadelphia. I never wanted for anything.” He saw her curl into herself. “That’s what I meant by a spoiled fool. I realized I had never wanted for anything.”

  “There’s no need to sound ashamed of your good fortune,” she said.

  “No, but I should have been aware of those who were not as fortunate as I was.” He leaned forward and outstretched his long arm, spanning the distance between them, and traced fingers down her forearm before gripping her hand. “I’m embarrassed I never thought about how hard your life has been.”

  She flushed. “We were never hungry.”

  He met her mortified gaze. “Maybe not for food, but everything else needed to thrive was lacking from your life.” He half smiled as she shivered as his fingers played with hers.

  She tugged her hand away from his, wrapping it around her waist. She leaned against the side of the settee, further separating herself from Warren.

  “What did I do now?” he whispered, his brow furrowed as he watched her fold into herself.

  “Why wouldn’t you make love with me the other night?” she asked on a barely audible whisper. She played with a loose thread on the blanket.

  His gaze darkened, and he fisted his hands as though fighting the urge to reach for her. “I promised myself I would not rush you, Helen. And I won’t.” He smiled as he saw yearning in her gaze.

  Helen shook her head, drawing up her knees and hugging them with her arms, making her look like a girl. “I’ll never understand men.” She glared at him as he laughed.

  “Just as I will never understand women. But I hope to understand you. I’m growing to each day, Nell.” He smiled as she flushed at the tender tone in his voice. He sank onto the settee next to her, their knees touching. He waited until she met his gaze, unable to hide her curiosity as she looked at him.

  “I wait for the day when you have no doubts. When you believe what I say.” He watched as incredulity filled her gaze. “When you believe in yourself as much as I do.”

  “How can you say such things when there is so much you don’t know about me?” she whispered.

  The hands he draped over his knees met hers, their fingers touching. “There’s nothing I could learn about you that would prevent me from wanting you.” He met her tremulous smile with a caress down her cheek and then leaned against the side of the settee, looking at the tree. “I have no gift for you either,” he murmured.

  She laughed and then her breath hitched as though battling tears.

  He rested his arm over the back of the settee, fingering the loose strands of her blond hair. He watched as her arm twitched and then grinned as she gripped the cushion of the settee and pulled herself to him. He held his breath as she curled up into his side, letting out a deep breath as she settled her head on his chest. His arm dropped to embrace her, and he kissed the top of her head.

  “This is my Christmas present,” she whispered.

  Bear Grass Springs’ Banker Attempts to Swindle Town of Hard-Earned Money.

  Helen read the headline while sitting on the settee in the living room, the Christmas tree across from her sparkling in the late-afternoon light. Warren had warned her that they would have to take it down soon, but she had begged for a few more days with it in the house. She focused again on the article.

  Imagine my surprise to learn that a once-esteemed member of the town and its Bear Grass Springs’ Improvement Committee reneged on a vital aspect of the contract providing funding for the town’s vitalization.

  Helen continued to read J.P.’s article, her mouth dropping open at Mr. Finlay’s actions and then at Warren’s cunning. For although J.P. never mentioned Warren by name, Helen knew it was Warren who had conspired to bring about Mr. Finlay’s public humiliation.

  She heard the kitchen door open and slam shut, and she looked over the back of the settee as Warren entered the parlor. She held up the paper with a raised eyebrow.

  He shrugged and then slipped off his jacket. “How was your day?” he asked.

  “Less eventful than yours, I imagine. How did Finlay react to this paper?”

  Warren sighed and sat next to her on the settee rather than in his chair. He grasped one of her hands, his fingers massaging it as though needing the contact. “Like a wounded bear. He came in roaring but ended up leaving like a gutted man.” He closed his eyes, resting his head on the back of the settee.

  “I can’t imagine why he thought you’d do anything less than you did.” She raised a hand to trace a worry line on his forehead before running her fingers over the side of his face. “You acted to protect the interests of the town.”

  “Yes, but I only gave him two reminders before I publicly humiliated him.” He sighed. “I’m a … bad man, and I hate when I’m confronted with who I truly am.” He glared at her as she laughed.

  “You are not a bad man, Warren. You didn’t force him to burn the other copy of the contract.” She raised an eyebrow again. “You know Mr. Finlay well enough to realize that the small fire in his bank was strategic. Nothing else of interest or value was damaged or destroyed.” She squeezed his arm. “I’m certain you gave him fair warning.”

  “I hate that he did not heed it either time,” Warren murmured.

  “You can’t protect fools from themselves.” She smiled as their fingers played with each other. “Although you protected me from myself, and I’m very thankful for that.”

  “There’s little I wouldn’t do for you,” he whispered.

  “I hope you retrieved everything of value you had at the bank before the article was released,” she murmured as she stared at the fireplace.

  He laughed. “I did. Yesterday. I knew J.P. was to print this today, and I feared he’d prevent access to what I had stored in the safe-deposit box.” He smiled. “He hates not knowing what is stored in those boxes.”

  She giggled. “I used to dream of having a box, even if it were empty, just to torment him. I’d go in every few months and ask for my box while carrying an envelope or a bag, acting as though whatever was with me was precious. I’d spend my requisite time in the basement and then leave, with him none the wiser that I’d never put anything in the box.”

  Warren chuckled. “He would have hated that.”

  She sobered. “He has enough of the townsfolk’s valuables to pay you a few times over.”

  Warren frowned, focusing on her and what she failed to say. “What does he have of yours that you value?”

  “I’m being foolish,” Helen whispered as she freed her hand from his grasp and wrapped her arms around her middle. When he waited for her to speak, she said, “My grandmother’s pearls.”

  His eyes flashed with anger. “Why would he have those?” He tapped his fingers on his knee when she remained quiet. “I remember your grandmother visiting me before she died. She did not want a formal will written, but she wanted advice about how to ensure her wishes were followed after she died.”

  Helen watched him warily. “How can wishes be followed if there is no recorded will?”

  He shrugged. “Exactly. However, she didn’t want to spend the money on a lawyer. Wanted free advice. And was none pleased with the advice I gave her.” He flushed with embarrassment when Helen watched him with curiosity. “I advised her that, if she wanted to have her wishes followed, she had to write them down with explicit instructions because her daugh
ter would do what she damn well pleased once your grandmother was dead.”

  Helen snorted. “You knew my mother well enough by then.”

  “Was I wrong?” His searching gaze took in her embarrassment and disappointment. “I assume your mother used them to pay some sort of debt. I only hope it wasn’t for Walter.”

  Helen bit her lip. “No, it was for the money to help Leticia’s husband leave town.” She flushed. “I thought you knew my mother helped fund him.”

  He nodded, clasping her hand. “I’d heard rumors but never had any proof of it.” He watched as shame and resignation flit over her expression. “Her actions do not reflect on you, Helen.”

  She tugged on her hand, glaring at him when unable to free it from his grasp. “Yes, they do! She acted as she did for me. She thought to force Leticia out of town so that Alistair would marry me.” She took a deep breath as it hitched. “I hate how she maneuvered me into believing a MacKinnon would want me.”

  Warren waited a moment, his jaw tightening at her words. “I hate the thought of you chasing after any of them,” he whispered, his voice raspy with emotion. “Do you know what it was like, wondering if this time you’d end up married to one of them and that I would truly lose you?”

  She shook her head as she stared at him in wonder. “I never thought you really cared,” she whispered.

  He cupped her cheek. “Helen, I’ve cared from the moment we became friends, four years ago. I know I acted like a fool three years ago and lost you, but I hope you will give me another chance. That’s all I want.”

  She swallowed as she saw the sincerity in his eyes. “I’m trying. I have trouble believing you are sincere at times.”

  He smiled. “I know. With time, you will come to realize I was always yours.”

  Warren frowned as Helen quivered uncontrollably next to him. “You have nothing to fear, Helen. You have more friends in this town than you realize.” He kept a firm grip on her elbow, lest she dash away and avoid entering the Odd Fellows Hall for the First Annual Bear Grass Springs New Year’s Eve celebration. “The town needs to see you, and it’s been two weeks since the debacle at the Boudoir.”