Wild Passion Read online

  He tipped back the drink and let it burn down his throat. His cheek twitched near the scar. “If you won’t leave me to my misery, then hike up your skirts and come over here. At least then you can be of some use.”

  To the damned woman’s credit, she did no more than blink in surprise and quickly squared her shoulders. She stared hard and took the remaining distance between them. She pressed her hand to his chest and lifted her chin, bringing her face so close his breath mingled with hers. His heartbeat kicked up and he prayed the thick layers of fabric between her fingers and his heart were enough to hide his response. She pressed her body against him, heating his skin wherever they touched. What was she doing?

  He couldn’t keep his eyes off her mouth when she pinched the corner of her bottom lip between her teeth. Air dried out his tongue, and he swallowed as she stretched onto her tiptoes and brought her face close. A mere inch separated their lips. The sweet fragranced air from those damned flowers she always left was all that stood between him and the one thing he’d wanted since she nursed him to health—Carrie’s mouth pressed against his, her chest panting with the need to have him inside her. At least that’s what he hoped she wanted. Like any good thoroughbred, he fancied himself an expert in the art of seducing the opposite sex. Knowing how to take a woman’s innermost thoughts and draw out her desires was the first step in seduction. But this was Carrie. She was different.

  She lifted one soft finger and traced the sensitive scar on the side of his face, and he flinched. She smiled like a cruel temptress. “You’re a fool to think you can scare me away with such inappropriate talk, Mr. Sanders.” The long black lashes that had fluttered coyly many times before, tempting him, blinked rapidly as she took a step back. “Now, get your coat. There’s a slight chill in the air.”

  All he could do was swallow to try and force moisture back into his mouth as he made sense of what had happened. Before he could process the moment, she pressed her fingers into his chest like his sister had done many times before and pointed toward the door. He moved despite the nagging voice in the back of his mind telling him to take control. What the hell happened to him whenever she drew close?

  Blasted woman!

  He neared the door and scooped up his jacket from where he’d deposited it last night. Relief spread through him at the weight of the flask he’d hidden in there yesterday when his sister and her new husband—his best friend—visited. If he was going to be bullied into leaving, at least he had the cheap bar liquor to tide him over.

  He slid his coat over his double-breasted vest and yanked open the door, not waiting for Carrie as he took the stairs. The sight of her surrey brought him to a halt. The only women who’d driven him around were his grandmother when he was a lad and later his sister when he taught her how to drive. No way was he letting Carrie take the reins.

  Carrie brushed past him, and he could focus on nothing but her small frame as she approached the large horses. “Yes, that’s right,” she said with a smug gleam in her eye. “I’m driving. That way you can’t disappear on me like the night Beth and I attended the Governors Dance. Now. The least you could do is help me up the steps.”

  “If you would mind your own business, I wouldn’t be forced to use such trickery. There’s no way I’m going to be chauffeured about like some woman.”

  She mounted the surrey without help from him. Not that he offered any. Although he would have if she’d waited a fraction longer.

  Carrie’s narrowed eyes bored a hole straight through him. “Get in or I will put you in myself.”

  “I doubt you’ve ever lifted an ax let alone a grown man.” There was no way she could force him inside the carriage, but he didn’t want her touching him again. He settled into the seat, placed his hand over the flask beneath his jacket, and scooted toward the edge of the bench to put distance between them.

  “I’ll have you know, I gained a lot of cooking skills from Aunt June last summer. While I may have grown up not having to work, I no longer choose to live in such a way. I quite like Aunt June’s lifestyle, and anyway my threat worked to get you in. Now settle down.” She snapped the reins, and the buggy jerked into motion. The gentle clop of the horse’s hooves over the dirt roads filled the silence between them. Why did he torture himself so much by allowing the little minx into his home on a daily basis? She did nothing but toss demands about and order him to better himself. Well, bully her. He had no intention of improving anything except his liquor supply.

  Simon touched the jagged scar running down the side of his face and past his jaw, only to stop at his neck. Beneath his layers of shirt and vest fabric, remnants of the predator’s teeth and claws sliced down to dip below the waistband of his pants. Although healed, the scars were still sensitive to touch. Before last season, his face never failed to melt the resolve of every woman he chose to seduce. Not now. Not after the cougar attack that almost took his life. He’d survived, but he’d lost his face and soul. “Where are we going tonight? A dance? Dinner party? Drinks with the president?”

  “If President Harrison visited I doubt you’d clean yourself up enough to attend anything in his honor.”

  “There’s nothing for me out there.” He motioned toward the far-off buildings of downtown Missoula.

  “If you weren’t obsessed with self-pity you’d see there are many people around you who love you despite your scars—and attitude.”

  “What? Like you?” He spit the words out with contempt, but like before his remark failed to make her react as he wished. The moment thickened with silence, neither offering a response.

  After a few uncomfortable minutes, Carrie spoke up. “I’m taking you to see a doctor.”

  “Of course,” he snapped. “And that’s why we’re traveling the back roads, right? Can’t be associated with the monster of Missoula.”

  She snapped her gaze to him. “Where did you hear that?”

  “Isn’t it on everyone’s lips these days? After that reporter in the Herald got hold of my story, it’s been all the rage.”

  Carrie focused once more on guiding her horses through the streets. “Let them talk, Simon. They’re all catty imbeciles with no grasp of reality beyond the dances and teas they attend.”

  Simon didn’t respond. What could one say to her? To the knowledge that the only woman left in the world who will look at you was searching for a way to be able to stomach your company. “Are you certain this doctor is reputable?”

  Carrie squirmed in the surrey seat next to him and snapped the reins, not yet offering a response.

  “So, not reputable then? So why in Sam Hill did you bulldoze me into coming? And why did we have to take your buggy? I could have walked just fine.”

  “Dr. McGuinn comes highly recommended by Aunt June.” She yanked hard on one rein and the horses turned onto Pine Street. “And I will not risk you running back to your hole to hide.”

  Simon searched his inside pocket for the flask. If he was lucky, he could down the entire pint before Aunt June caught him with it. The blasted woman was likely to lay into him like a gospel sharp to the devil. There was no way he could deal with this whole evening sober. Even if the doctor was as good as Carrie claimed, he couldn’t fix the scars on his soul.

  Simon turned his body to face away from his sister’s bosom friend. His elbow bumped the back of the padded seat as he shielded his face with his coat jacket with one hand and took a swig of cheap, back-alley liquor. The buggy shook as it rolled over a divot in the ground, and what remained from the flask drenched the front of his shirt. The booze he’d swallowed burned down his esophagus and he coughed, trying not to spit out the only relief he had for this hellish night ahead. Dammit!

  He wiped frantically at the front of his white cotton shirt as the liquid soaked into the fabric.

  The liquor spread through his veins, and he gave up. He buttoned his jacket as Carrie pulled up in front of Aunt June’s home and
set the brake. The spring-supported leather bench groaned as Carrie squared her body to his. His pulse raced, whether from the drink or her scent drifting on the breeze past his nose he didn’t know. Did it matter?

  In the fading daylight, he caught the gentle firming of Carrie’s lips before she spoke. “You are going to go in there and give this doctor a chance to help you. Do you understand me? I cannot go to the lumber camp until I know that you aren’t going to drink yourself to hell while I’m gone.”

  “Don’t be a fool, Carrie. I’ve been damned for years. Trying to save me now is like trying to float a log down a dried up riverbed.” Without thought to Carrie’s sensibilities, he tipped back the flask to take in any remaining drops of booze, then held it out to her. The only woman left in his life who seemed to truly care. Well, she shouldn’t. “Why don’t you be a good girl and fill this up for me when Aunt June isn’t looking? She keeps the good stuff in the bottom cupboard of her sitting room sideboard.”

  She snatched the flask from his fingers and tucked it into a pocket sewed to the folds of her skirts. “I will do no such thing, and neither will you. Now, I hope you haven’t forgotten your manners.” She flicked her eyes to the steps of the surrey.

  Simon grumbled as he leapt to the ground and in a few steps reached up to help her down. Normally he didn’t need to be reminded to be chivalrous, but today he didn’t feel much like catering to the demanding female desires.

  Carrie took his arm and led the way toward Aunt June’s door. Simon’s stomach dropped at the thought of the doctor and what he could possibly do for him. Could he fix him, or was the man just another bunko artist peddling false hopes and disappointed dreams? Most likely the latter.

  Simon couldn’t get his hopes up. He wanted to tell Carrie as much, but he knew it was too late with her. She was the only one who truly believed that he could be fixed.

  By the time they reached the top step, the door opened to reveal Aunt June. “It’s about time, you two. The doctor is in the front sitting room, and he’s ready.”

  Carrie tightened her grip on his arm and snuggled closer. She was like a drug to him. One touch, one smell of her hair, and she could bend him to her will. Once he stepped through the door and into the candlelit room, he yanked free of her confusing grip. She stumbled a step but threw back her shoulders and brushed past. He watched her disappear into the next room, and his heart sank. What he wouldn’t give to be normal again. To feel her warmth beneath him as she writhed in passion. He swallowed hard and tugged at the collar of his shirt. The back of his finger brushed against the scar dipping down his neck. No woman in her right mind would be able to stomach the sight of his mangled body, especially not one as innocent as Carrie. This was going to be a long night.

  He followed Aunt June into the parlor and glanced around to take stock. Carrie stood, half hidden behind the pillar near the fireplace. Aunt June bustled up to a round man wearing a threadbare suit, slightly stained. In his hand, he held a black bag normally associated with a man of his profession.

  Simon’s face twitched near his scar again. “Let’s get on with this.” He walked to the couch and sat.

  “Chipper for a man in your situation,” said the doctor. “Do you know what I’m about to do?”

  Simon flipped his hand through the air. “I assume needles. Poking. Do what you will. You’re going to fail anyway.” He caught Carrie’s gaze and motioned toward the sideboard holding the liquor. “Be a good girl.”

  All the blasted woman did was shake her head and drop her gaze to the decorative rug beneath the couch. Damn. He refocused on the doctor as he pulled a vial resembling an oversized perfume bottle from his bag. Reaching in a second time, he withdrew a face mask and attached it to the bottle.

  “What the hell is that?” Simon leaned against the couch back.

  “This is an anesthetic.”

  Simon let his shock show on his face. “Something more powerful than booze, huh?” He turned to Carrie. “You arranged for me to get something better than booze? Well, then, let’s get to it.” He grabbed the mask from the doctor’s hands and placed it over his mouth. Maybe for a while he could forget about Carrie’s distractions and get right in the head after he woke. And by some miracle maybe the doctor would have success with fixing his face, but he doubted he’d have such luck.

  He took a deep inhale a mere second after Aunt June motioned toward the door. His lungs filled to their capacity, and he grew dizzy. The last thing he saw as he drifted into blackness was the faces of his old logging crew, the Devil May Cares, as they slipped into the room. What in the hell were they doing there?

  Chapter 2

  “That was easier than expected.” Carrie walked toward the growing group surrounding a now slumbering Simon.

  Aunt June hovered above the couch. “Yes, that was. What did you do to him, girlie? He didn’t even ask questions.”

  Wall stood tall, staring down like the rest. “It’s like he was running away from something.”

  “What did you do to him, girlie?” Aunt June repeated and tossed her a confusing look.

  Carrie’s heart beat faster. What had she done? Besides play his game at the house. Let him see she wasn’t afraid of him, no matter what vile obstacles he tossed in her path. She wasn’t one to back down, and she had showed him that. Hadn’t she? “He seemed fine on the carriage ride.”

  The doctor cleared his throat from across the room where he’d retreated. “That’ll be one hundred and ten dollars.”

  Aunt June rolled her eyes. “Ninety dollars even. You were two minutes late.”

  “My money.” The doctor held out his hand.

  Aunt June faced the Devil May Cares. “You boys get him loaded into my buggy out the back alley. Tell Beth and Garrett that Carrie and I will be there shortly.” Aunt June turned toward the doctor. “I’ve got to settle with the good doctor here.”

  “I’m as good as your money makes me,” the doctor said as he followed her toward a brown jar on a bookshelf in the corner.

  She shoved her hand in the jar, yanked out a wad of money, and thrust it toward him. “Now don’t you go thinking you know where I keep my loose money. I put that in there for safekeeping for tonight. If I find anything amiss in my house I’ll know where to go to extract revenge.”

  The doctor snatched the money and pressed it to his chest. He smiled as he arranged the dollar bills in his hand. Without another word he scurried out of the room, stuffing the bills in his jacket pocket.

  As the sound of the large front door shutting reached Carrie’s ears, Aunt June returned to Simon’s side. “Off you go, boys. Best get him to the train before he wakes up. I’m not confident this doctor didn’t give us a half dose, or how long the chloroform sleep will last.”

  “We’ll meet you there.” Wall, the new leader of the Devil May Care boys, motioned for Blue to take the feet as he positioned himself above Simon’s torso. Within a few minutes the Devil May Cares loaded Simon in Aunt June’s buggy and headed out.

  Carrie followed them outside behind Aunt June and watched until they disappeared into the night. She covered her aching stomach with the palm of her hand, then faced Aunt June. “There’s no turning back now. I just hope he won’t despise us when he wakes.”

  “Oh, you can count on him to be roaring like a bear when he wakes. Wouldn’t be surprised if he breaks somethin’.” Aunt June motioned for Carrie to step inside the house. “He’ll have to get over it. Now, girlie, go upstairs and get the belongins you brought over this morning. We need to get to the train before Simon wakes.”

  By the time Carrie lugged her overly stuffed bag down the stairs and out the front door, Aunt June had already loaded her luggage in the footboard of the wagon. “Hurry now, girlie, get in.”

  Her godmother’s impatient foot-tapping filled the silence of the night. Carrie set the bag on the floor and slid in beside her. Before she settled, Aunt June
whipped the reins to send the horses forward.

  The slight spring chill in the air cooled her heated face. The last few hours sent a rush of emotions flowing through her like a white-water river. What had Simon meant by trying to shock her with his inappropriate words? Then again, why had her riotous mind considered taking him up on his offer, even if for a mere heartbeat. For a moment she thought him serious, but that could never be. Simon was a womanizer, well-known to the harlots of Missoula and a few lonely wives. With so many prospects, he’d never look her way. Ever since they were children she’d been nothing but his sister Elizabeth’s obnoxious friend.

  She needed to get over the way Simon made her tingle inside whenever he drew near, and focus on getting him well. After all, she didn’t need more complications at the hands of Simon. Not after she’d finally convinced her parents that she’d be safe and whole at the lumber camp. After the tongue lashing she’d received in regards to her chastity, she had to be on her best behavior or risk getting thrown in the streets. If she came back ruined by a logger, her parents would disown her before she could even walk through their door.

  No. She could help Simon without giving in to the temptation of a man who once bragged to her neighbor that on a wager he’d talked the stickler wife of a local banker out of her bustle. Of course, she overheard the whole conversation while spying on him through the rose bushes in his backyard while waiting for Elizabeth, but her bad behavior was not in question. What she needed to do was stay focused on helping her best friend’s brother, and keep her heart from falling for him all over again. She’d barely gotten over him.

  Simon was trouble. Trouble she didn’t want, or need, in her life.

  * * * *

  The familiar screech of a train slamming to a halt echoed through the darkness and brought Simon’s mind to focus. He squeezed his eyes shut even tighter. What in Sam Hill was going on? Closer still, voices whispered in hurried tones. He picked out Wall’s and Garrett’s voices, his sister, and Carrie. What the blazes?