Renegade Wife

chapter Seven


Molly touched a hand to her cheek, noting how much better her face felt this morning. The salve Kane had administered seemed to have worked wonders. She didn’t know if she had developed a dark bruise as he had suggested last night, since they’d woken early and taken to the road nearly before sunup, Molly not having time to dig out her mirror from her valise in the wagon to take a look.

But after a good night’s rest, she couldn’t complain about Kane’s hasty departure, she’d been just as eager to leave the camp behind, in favor of embarking on her search for Charlie.

The wagon moved forward at a comfortable pace, Molly adjusting to the bumps and jiggles that occurred on the rutted road as they made their approach to Camp Stockton. They’d already reached and searched the tiny town of Hermit’s Edge, with Kane making inquires to the proprietor of the mercantile. Aside from a few shops, a blacksmith and the smallest saloon Molly had ever seen—a shack really, with a three-foot bar and no tables—there wasn’t much else in town. They’d moved on rapidly, Kane warning her not to become discouraged—there were more than a few towns along the way just like that one.

Morning sun grew hot as the hours passed, but she endured the heat with a sense of resignation, gaining a better understanding of this rugged land now. She was becoming accustomed to sweat leaking from her brow, to her dress sticking to her body like morning dew on tall grass and to squinting eyes lowering into thin slits against the powerful light.

Molly endured it all for the sake of finding her brother.

As the sun arched directly overhead, the flat, dry desert land they traveled changed color before Molly’s eyes, the earth richer now with trees and shrubs that added soft vibrant hues to the surroundings. From her perch atop the wagon, Molly viewed an overly large spring, the cool waters from the glistening pool beckoning her.

She turned to Kane, tugging on the fringe of his buckskin. “Can we stop, just for a little while?”

Kane glanced ahead. “We’re less than a mile outside of Camp Stockton.”

“I know, but I’d rather not ride into town feeling like a slimy old prairie dog.” She plucked her dress from her sticky body at the shoulders, proving her point.

Kane shot a quick glance at the spring then gazed at Molly’s expectant face. She mustered her best smile. “Please.”

He closed his eyes and sighed. “I’ll water the horses while we’re there.”

Molly jumped for joy, nearly bouncing out of her seat on the wagon, then hugged Kane around the neck. “Thank you!”

Kane backed away from her embrace, but Molly was too happy at the moment to allow his rebuff to bother her.

They were beside the spring instantly, Kane bounding from the wagon and coming around to help her down. Molly placed her hands on his shoulders as he clasped her waist and eased her to the ground. Molly’s arms crept up around his neck and she had a good mind to kiss him. She’d been wanting to ever since last night when he’d picked her up from that clumsy fall and carried her back to their camp. She’d been reckless and foolish, but Kane hadn’t admonished her as she’d expected. Instead, he’d taken care with her, cleaning her wound and administering the salve that really seemed to have helped heal the painful gash on her face.

Yes, Molly had wanted to kiss him last night. And she had a dickens of a time keeping from kissing him when she woke this morning. During the night she’d awoken briefly to find Kane right beside her, his body wedged against hers, one hand resting lightly on her shoulder while the other latched onto his rifle.

She’d shuddered at first, seeing the deadly weapon in his hand, but then she realized he’d kept her close in order to protect her.

She gazed into his eyes, longing to feel his lips on hers once again, longing to feel his body pressed to hers, longing for so many things Kane was incapable of giving. Her fingers slightly brushed a soft curl at the back of his neck, before she stepped away. She began to unfasten the very top button of her dress. “I’ll need my privacy.”

Kane drew in a deep breath and his face set with stony determination. Molly was beginning to learn that particular expression far too well. “Molly, I’m not leaving you alone out here.”

“Can’t you water the horses later, or all the way at the other end of the spring?”

“No.”

“Kane, you can’t watch me bathe. You simply can’t.”

“Better me than a troop of soldiers, Molly. We’re close to the camp. No telling how many soldiers might be wandering these parts, keeping a lookout.”

Molly made a sweeping glance around. She didn’t see anyone. But Kane had a point. The very last thing she wanted was to have strangers watching her bathe. At least Kane was her husband. Yet, the thought of him watching her undress and cleanse herself unnerved her. Propriety told her to step back up into the wagon and be done with this, but layers of dust and sweat on her body from hours on the trail won out.

“Okay, but step far away. You can do that, can’t you?”

Kane led the horses up to the bank of the spring to let them have a cool drink, then strode over to a large rock about twenty feet from the water and sat down. “I’ll be right here.”

Molly groaned. Kane may have an earnest desire to protect her, but deep inside Molly felt that he was enjoying his role as protector far too much. “Turn your back for a minute, please.”

To her amazement, he did.

Molly quickly unfastened the rest of the buttons on her gown and stepped out of it. Next came the petticoats. She removed all three and laid them out by her gown on a shrub. Keeping her chemise and bloomers on, she bent to remove her boots and stockings.

She wiggled her toes and smiled at the newfound freedom. Within seconds Molly entered the water, slowly and with caution. She maintained a good footing and braved another few steps until she was waist high in water. She splashed water on her arms and shoulders and delighted at the spring’s temperature, not too warm, not too cold. Molly could spend the rest of the day frolicking here, but she was all too aware that Kane wouldn’t abide a long respite. Though he didn’t speak of it, Molly knew his impatience stemmed from thoughts of his ailing grandfather. The sooner they made the journey he’d planned, the sooner they could return back to the Bar J.

Molly fully understood Kane’s reluctance to waste time, so she dipped her hair into the water quickly, wishing she’d had the benefit of a bar of soap, and scrubbed clean the tresses the best she could. Next she lifted her chemise waist high to wash her legs, running her hands up and down scouring each limb, and as she turned her body to face the bank of the spring, she froze, unable to move, as Kane’s gaze met hers from the edge of the water.

His buckskin shirt tossed next to her clothing, he stood by the horses, with beads of water glistening on his chest. Bronzed and powerful, standing tall with an unabashed glint in his eyes, he watched her.

Oh, how Molly wished she were his wife in the real sense. How she wished she hadn’t made this unholy bargain with Kane Jackson. How she wished this mad attraction she felt for her husband would either die in her heart or come to a more satisfying end.

Always hopeful, and bolder than she’d ever been before, Molly moved through the water, her gaze fastened only to his. Kane’s face bore no expression, but his gaze roamed over her body possessively with unguarded appreciation. For one instant, she felt like a wife in the true sense. For one second, Molly knew what it was like to have Kane’s full attention, to make him see her as a woman with a heart and soul, a woman who would devote her life to him.

For that one unshielded second, Kane showed Molly all the possibilities. And as she came closer to the bank, water dripping from her body, wearing her cotton chemise like a second skin, she witnessed Kane’s full intake of breath.

She came out of the water to stand directly before him. Never releasing his gaze, she lifted her chin. “You promised to turn around.”

Kane lost all semblance of rational thought. Molly stood before him, unclothed but for the thin wet material covering her body, yet she knew no shame, no hesitation. She stood so close that the fresh scent of spring water teased his senses, and her womanly form, easily seen through the gossamer chemise, did something more than tease him.

Desire shot through straight through him. He longed to take Molly into his arms and press her against him, to kiss her wet lips dry and stroke her body expertly until she bent to his will. Kane cursed himself for each thought, but couldn’t deny them, couldn’t quite control the longing he felt or the pain wanting her created both in his body and mind.

He explained quietly, “I did…for about a minute.”

Molly’s eyes went dewy soft. She placed her hand on his bare chest. “Kane.”

Her delicate touch scorched him and Kane felt the heat of his betrayal to Little Swan with powerful force. He had already loved and lost one woman. He could not take Molly McGuire, not in the way he’d envisioned in his head already a hundred times. He would not make a true commitment to her. He had no right to touch her. No matter what she offered by way of standing there with askance in her eyes and a body that beckoned him with even the slightest movement. Kane meant to back away, but she stunned him with her next words.

“Kiss me.”

A thousand reasons why he should deny her raced through his head, yet Kane’s willpower waned and he wondered if he had strength enough to refuse his wife her one request. He thought back upon the will he’d displayed during the O-kee-pa, a rite of passage for young tribal members as they displayed greats feats of courage, hanging by their skewered flesh. Kane had lasted long, had endured the torturous ritual and had earned the respect of the entire tribe. The events of his childhood had made him tough, hard and unyielding, yet this one fiery-haired woman, with green sparks in her eyes, met him head-on and the battle, he feared, was just beginning.

“No.”

Molly didn’t seem surprised at his half-hearted refusal. Instead she moved her hand on his chest, her fingertips outlining a slow torturous pattern. “You want to.”

A guttural chuckle emerged, surfacing to sound more like an animal’s growl. “Don’t tempt me, Molly.”

“What harm can one kiss do? I’m your wife.”

On a quick nod, he agreed. “Temporarily.”

But Molly seemed too prideful to back down. She dug her heels in and stood firm. Kane witnessed her determination and actually admired her for it. “I’ll ask you only this once. One kiss. And I’ll never ask again.”

Kane stood silent, contemplating, and only the mare’s soft whinny broke the incredible quiet.

Molly’s eyes watered and she spun around quickly, ready to make a hasty retreat from his rebuff. He witnessed the injury he’d caused, the rejection that Molly couldn’t bare to face, and before Kane thought another moment, he reached out, grabbing her waist and pulling her fully around so their eyes met. “This isn’t a good idea.”

Then he crushed his mouth to hers.

Molly’s whimper of delight tore into his senses, nearly destroying his good intentions. He meant to kiss her once and be done with it, but the taste of her lips was a sweet elixir that demanded he drink more. He drank heartily, consuming his mind and body with the softness of her mouth, her heady fresh scent and her willing touch.

“Kane,” she murmured softly, and he took that opportunity to mate his tongue with hers, exploring her mouth and teaching her more than he should about lust and desire. He lowered her down to the lush grass just beyond the bank of the spring and stroked her body with greedy hands.

His manhood pressed the confines of his buckskin pants and he thanked all that was holy for the restriction of tight leather and firm resolve. He would not take Molly.

But kissing her like this was a pleasure he neither expected nor deserved. She’d been an obligation, brought upon by his grandfather. She’d been like a thorn prickling his finger, something he had to endure until he could pluck it free. Kane wanted nothing from Molly but to complete the bargain they’d made. At least that’s what he had told himself. He abhorred his weakness in giving in to Molly’s plea, but he couldn’t deny that kissing her brought him immense pleasure and touching her nearly bare body destroyed all his good sense.

Yet, he brought Molly pleasure as well, if her little throaty moans were any true testimony. She responded to his every caress with little movements that drove Kane’s sanity to the edge. He kissed her lips, while running his hand over her legs, as he yearned to touch more of her.

But his mind screamed that he could not touch Molly in her womanly places. Fondling her breasts meant that she belonged to him. The Cheyenne way had been deeply rooted in him since early childhood, but Kane found confusion there, whereas Molly was his wife, and a man had rights in that regard.

The need was great. He ached to caress her breasts, to mold the ripe globes with his hands and kiss the tips until they pebbled with desire. He ached to make her body as lusty as his own, to bring her the pleasure she sought with each little moan and undulation of her body.

A sound alerted him and he sat straight up, listening. And far in the distance he saw something that had him rising and lifting Molly to her feet as well. “Soldiers.”

Camp Stockton was a welcome sight to Molly’s eyes as they rode past rows of limestone and adobe buildings. The hustle and bustle of everyday life reminded her of St. Louis and the home she’d left behind, though this town appeared much more orderly in the chaos. Molly smiled at the silly notion, glancing at Kane’s somber expression, his eyes wary, his sharp gaze focused. He reined the horses to a halt at the request of one of the dozen soldiers whom had escorted their wagon to the center of the camp.

Still reeling from her encounter with Kane by the spring, Molly wet her lips, seeking moisture and a way to repair the damage done by his lusty assault. She’d barely had time enough to dress properly and tidy up her hair, before the bluecoats showed up, Kane shoving clothes her way and hiding her from curious scouts who had spied their wagon by the spring.

Kane had kissed and caressed her until her body shook violently, yet he hadn’t touched her in those secret places she’d craved to be touched. He’d held on to his resolve, and Molly would always wonder what might have occurred had the soldiers not arrived at that moment, ready to guide the wagon to their camp. She’d always wonder if Kane would have succumbed to the desire she witnessed in his eyes, on his face and in the power of his kiss.

“Welcome to Camp Stockton. I’m Captain Campbell.”

A tall, well-groomed man strode toward the wagon, dressed in full uniform. He put out his hand to Kane.

Kane ignored the man’s gesture of welcome. Stunned, Molly sat atop the wagon in disbelief. Many a man might have taken grave insult, but the captain only pursed his lips and eyed Kane with keen interest. “Your grandfather wired me of your arrival.”

Kane turned to stare into the man’s eyes. “You know my grandfather?”

“If he’s Bennett Jackson, yes and no. He has wired our camp every year since your abduction, searching for his kidnapped grandson and hoping to hear news of you. I never laid eyes on the man before, but he holds my respect.”

Kane drew oxygen into his lungs and nodded. “Then you know we came in search of another.”

Molly smiled at Captain Campbell, hoping to make up for Kane’s lack of grace. “Hello, Captain. I’m Molly Jackson. My husband and I are looking for my brother, Charlie.” She reached into her reticule and produced the tintype of her brother, handing the small image to the soldier. “He’s four years older now. Goes by the name of Charles McGuire.”

“Handsome boy,” the captain said, squinting at the image. “But I can’t say that I recognize him. Of course, we have two hundred soldiers at the camp and I don’t know all their faces.”

“Would it be all right if we asked around? My brother is from St. Louis. I think he’d be easy to remember.”

“A greenhorn?”

Molly smiled. “I suppose one could call him that. He left home months ago and, well, if it wouldn’t be too much of an imposition, I’d like to speak with some of your soldiers and maybe others in camp.”

Captain Campbell glanced at Kane. “That’d be all right, as long as you have an escort. Some of my men haven’t seen a lady in more time than they’d like to recall. You’ll be escorting your wife, I presume?”

Kane nodded and stared straight at Molly. “I won’t let her out of my sight.”

“Fine, then. And might I ask you both to supper tonight? It would be my pleasure to have you sit at my table.” He smiled at Molly with warmth and she felt a genuine fondness for the courteous man.

“Thank you,” Molly said instantly, but Kane’s forceful voice overrode her usual quiet tone.

“No thanks. We’ll be moving on as soon as we’re through searching the camp.”

The captain hid his disappointment well, and he nodded. “Then, feel free to ask of your brother. I wish you luck in locating him.”

“Thank you, Captain.”

“And Mr. Jackson?”

Kane looked in the captain’s direction.

“Your grandfather said you were raised by the Cheyenne. Keep in mind that there are a number of us who would like to see a peaceful solution to our problems with the Indian nation.”

Kane spoke harshly, his face no longer expressionless, but filled with disdain. “Treaties were broken, land was stolen, lies were told, Captain.”

The captain retaliated with quiet calm. “Homes have been pillaged, wagon trains raided, many have died at the hands of the very people who saved your life. Perhaps both people are to blame.”

Kane shook his head. “The Cheyenne don’t see it that way.”

Captain Campbell sighed resignedly. “Speak with my men. You’ll find them decent folk, here to protect the settlers and the Butterfield Overland mail wagons. We’ve all seen too much of war, Mr. Jackson.”

“Kane,” Molly interrupted, before the two men lost their civility. She better understood why Kane had been so pensive as they approached the camp. To Molly, the soldiers represented safety and the camp, a sanctuary. But to a man who’d been raised by Indians, soldiers meant something entirely different. There wasn’t time to sort it all out now. They’d come here for a specific purpose. She pleaded, “I’m really anxious to make my inquiries.”

“Of course,” the captain said. “You can hitch your wagon at the livery.”

“Thank you, Captain,” Molly said.

He tipped his hat. “Good day.”

Kane picked up the reins, and whistled softly. The wagon lurched forward, startling Molly. She hung on to the wagon seat as they made their way through the camp.

When they reached the livery Kane jumped from the wagon and came around to help her down, but she released herself from his hold as soon as her feet hit the ground. “You were rude to the captain.”

“He knows nothing of Indians.”

“Maybe not. He hasn’t had the benefit of living among them like you had. But he seemed a fair man, Kane.”

Kane grunted, his face hard. “None of the treaties were fair, Molly. None of the people got what they’d been promised. I lived with a small tribe who had to flee from their land, over and over again. We were not free. We had no rights. And fair men, like the captain, were easily fooled as well. Nothing can make up for the loss, Molly. Now, let’s get going. We’re leaving here in two hours, so ask your questions and do not leave my side.”

Molly bit her lip, angry with Kane for his abrupt behavior. She had a good mind to walk off in the opposite direction, but she didn’t have time to waste. Her obstinate husband had given her two hours and she needed every last minute of it.

“No one has seen Charlie,” Molly said with disappointment. She’d spoken with everyone she could find on the street and in the shops. She’d even barged into several barracks, approaching the men with a warm greeting much to Kane’s disapproval. But he’d stood by her side, cautioning the soldiers with dark, narrowed eyes, warning them not to come too close. Molly wondered if he’d been protective of her, or simply displaying contempt for them. Either way, her efforts had not been successful. “Not one man in the entire camp recognized his photograph.”

“It’s a big territory, Molly. The chance of you finding someone straight away that’s seen or knows your brother isn’t likely. It’s our first day of searching,” Kane said as he helped her up on the wagon, “and we still have another town to reach before sundown. Are you ready?”

Molly nodded. She wouldn’t give in to her disappointment. Kane was right. They had miles and miles of territory to search, so she bolstered her hopes as they made their way out of Camp Stockton.

Hours later, they reached the town of Whiskey Flats near the Pecos River as dusk settled on the horizon. After unhitching the horses and renting a stall at the livery, Kane checked them into the Blue River Hotel. The second floor room was small and cramped, but clean. Cheery flowered wallpaper and bright curtains over a window that overlooked the main street in town held certain appeal. Molly figured the room would suffice for the night. As she gazed out the window, enjoying the cool early-evening breeze, she noted the banners and ribbons she’d seen earlier today when they’d made their way into town, claiming Whiskey Flats Founder’s Day Celebration.

The festivities were slated for tomorrow.

That was a good thing. Most of the townsfolk, as well as local ranchers, usually attended these celebrations. Molly would have the entire town come to her, so to speak. She’d make good use of her time here.

Kane set her valise down by the one small bed they’d be sharing. “Let’s have our meal, before the diner closes.”

Molly’s stomach grumbled, agreeing with Kane wholeheartedly. She’d never been one to require much food, not that there ever was an abundance or leftovers when she lived in St. Louis, for that matter. Her days on the road, out in the wide-open Texas spaces, spiked her appetite and she found herself hungry more times than not during the day. “That’s a good idea,” she stated plainly.

Kane chuckled. “At least you agree with me about something.”

Molly gasped at his remark until she realized he’d been teasing. His mood from earlier today while at Camp Stockton seemed to have lightened. He might even prove a pleasant dinner companion tonight.

“You’ll find that I agree with you about most things.”

Kane shook his head. “Woman, from the day I set eyes on you, you and I have been on opposite sides of the barnyard, and that doesn’t seem likely to change.”

Molly raised her chin, ready to disagree, but Kane had removed his buckskin shirt, whipping it off in one efficient movement, then reaching down into his saddlebag for another, more civilized-looking garment.

She’d never get over the sight of him, unclothed, his bare well-muscled chest bronzed from days in the sun. The length and breadth of him, and the way he undressed so indifferently in front of her, stole all her breath. Molly watched the muscles play over his chest as he worked the other shirt on, lifting it over his head and finding a place over his torso.

The room was small. Kane was close. And Molly couldn’t quite banish the sense of intimacy she felt, being with Kane, here in their cramped hotel room, watching him dress before her.

He was a complicated man, one she didn’t quite fully understand, yet he was her husband and a man she had come to admire.

When she wasn’t disagreeing with him.

“Ready to fill our bellies?” Kane turned toward the door.

Molly grinned. “How delicately put.”

And they walked down the stairs together, hand in hand, just like a real married couple.

The Blue River Diner served up the best food Molly had ever eaten, including savory chicken and dumplings, vegetables in a buttery sauce and warm pecan pie. She feasted heartily at a square table decorated with a cornflower blue gingham tablecloth and a glass Mason jar filled with wildflowers. Molly had already asked around before taking her seat, showing the one picture she had of her brother to the other patrons in the crowded restaurant, but so far no one had recognized him.

She finished sipping steamy coffee from a dainty cup before gazing up at Kane. He stared at her, his eyes focused as if settling something in his mind. “I have to leave you tonight and I need the tintype of Charlie.”

Surprised, Molly clutched the image of her brother. That tintype was never far from her reach. “Why?”

“My grandfather knows someone who’s good with reproducing images. He’s an artist, of sorts, but not the kind of man a lady ought to meet. I’m commissioning him to draw up sketches of Charlie, to help in the search.”

Molly’s heart skipped with excitement, thinking of all the possibilities. “That’s wonderful. We can distribute them around tomorrow, but why can’t I meet him?”

Kane sipped the last of his coffee, his hands appearing overly large holding the delicate rose-painted cup. “I just told you that he’s not the sort of man you’d want to meet.”

Molly lowered her voice. “Is he an outlaw?”

Kane shook his head. “No. Not exactly.”

“Then, there’s no reason why I can’t join you,” Molly said with a nod of her head. She hated the thought of relinquishing the tintype to Kane or anyone, for that matter. It was all she had left of her brother.

Kane sighed as if expecting this argument. Molly couldn’t help being curious. So far, she and Kane had been in this together, and now he was to ride off into the night, without her. “Molly, I need your trust.”

“I do…trust you,” she said, biting her lip.

Kane raised an eyebrow.

“It’s just that we’re supposed to be doing this together.”

“Some things a man’s got to do alone.”

“Why?” she asked, more suspicious now than curious by Kane’s behavior. “Where are you going?”

“Remember your attempt to visit Miss Tulip’s back in Bountiful?”

Cautiously, Molly nodded, recalling her trek to the whorehouse, and not quite making it. It was her fainting spell and then the dunking in the creek that eventually got her engaged to Kane in the first place. Still and all, Molly wasn’t sure where this was leading.

“Well, Miss Tulip’s place looks like a Baptist church compared to where I’m heading tonight.”

And then it hit Molly. She covered her gasp with a hand, but the words still flew out nosily. “You’re leaving me to spend the night in a whorehouse?”

Kane scratched his nose, seeming to ignore the diners who had turned their heads in his direction the minute she’d opened her mouth, but Molly didn’t miss their disgusted stares. She felt equally appalled.

And betrayed.

Suddenly she knew why the thought of Kane spending time with “ladies of the night,” bothered her so.

Jealousy. Deep, heart-wrenching, unnerving jealousy surfaced like a claw-like ogre to rip at her insides. Kane wouldn’t make her his wife in the real sense, but he would spend the night with loose, immoral women.

“Keep your voice down,” he commanded.

“I will not! You can’t possibly mean to say—”

Kane reached over and, none too delicately, clamped his hand over her mouth. “Quiet, Little Bird. Let me explain, okay?”

Molly pierced him with a cold look of disdain, but finally she relented, then nodded.

He released his hand. Keeping his voice down, he explained, “I’m not going there for any reason other than to commission the pictures of Charlie. It’s what you want, isn’t it? A way to better our search? Bennett said that when I was missing, he commissioned this man, but he has since gone into seclusion.”

“He lives in a whorehouse?” This time, Molly whispered.

“I don’t know for certain. But that’s where I’m told I can find him most nights.”

“So, you’ll be gone all night?”

“If that’s what it takes.”

“And how will you spend your time, while he’s working on the pictures?” Molly couldn’t help but ask. Kane’s answer became very important to her.

“Sleeping, I suppose.”

“Alone?”

Kane rose from his seat, tossed some coins on the table, then helped Molly out of her seat. He escorted her with a firm hand to the base of the hotel stairs and gazed into her eyes. “You have much to learn about the Cheyenne, Molly. We honor our marriage vows.”

“But you’re no longer among the Cheyenne,” Molly pressed the point, unable to control her muddled thoughts. “And you’re forever reminding me that our marriage is—” she said, lowering her voice to a mere whisper “—temporary.”

“Then you’ll have to trust me at my word. You’re my wife. I will only sleep with you.”

“But,” she began, biting her lip again, debating whether she should speak her mind. She decided she just couldn’t hold back her uncertain thoughts any longer. “You won’t sleep with another woman, but will you—”

“No, Molly.” Kane shook his head. “I won’t touch another woman.” And he touched her face, his fingertips gentle on her cheek.

“I won’t take her into my arms.” And he wrapped his hands tightly around her waist, bringing her close.

“And I won’t kiss another woman.” And he brought his lips to hers, kissing her softly and more gently than Kane had ever kissed her before.

“I won’t bed another woman, Molly.” He smiled into her eyes and turned her to face the stairs. “Now, go up to the room. Get some rest. I’ll try to be back before sunup.”

Molly climbed a stair, then another, feeling weightless as if she were floating on a fluffy cloud. Her mind swam deliciously with thoughts of her husband and her body still hummed from Kane’s sweet assault. Once she reached the top stair, she turned and gazed down with a question forming on her lips.

But Kane had already gone.

She wouldn’t have the chance to ask her boldest question ever.