He was no more than a shadow, but she watched him lower his rifle as she neared.
"I know you don't like me to ask, but how is your leg?"
Thin beams of light slashed through the boards, and she could see his face clearly for a moment before he moved. He looked tired and worried.
"It aches a little. If I could I'd check to make sure none of the stitches are bleeding. Much as I hate to admit it, the doc's wraps did the trick. Between that and taking out that tiny piece of metal, my leg's stopped swelling. But the doc told me to keep an eye out for any bleeding."
Rainey handed him the cup and turned back to the kitchen without a word. Five minutes later she returned with a small pot of warm water and a stack of bandages.
"What's that?"
"Water," she whispered. "Now, keep quiet of you'll wake the others." She couldn't see his face, but she guessed he'd raised an eyebrow like he always did when he thought she might be crazy.
"Stand up," Rainey whispered.
"Why?" he asked as he did what she asked.
"I want to check for bleeding on those stitches. I don't want you getting infected."
He didn't move. "Where'd you find bandages?"
"I ripped a few strips off of one of the sheets the judge sent over." She moved closer. "Now remove your trousers."
"I don't think so. You couldn't see if I'm bleeding in this darkness, and we can't turn a lantern up for fear that someone passing might see in."
Rainey tugged at his belt. "I don't have to see the stitches. I only have to feel them. If I feel blood, or even dried blood, I've got water to wash it off and clean rags to wrap the wound." She put her hands on her hips. "Now, are you going to take those trousers off, or am I?"
He laughed. "All right, Rainey, I'm too tired to argue."
He unbuckled his gun belt and lay it beside him on a table.
"Don't worry, Ranger, it's so dark in here I won't see a thing."
He didn't laugh as he shoved down his pants. "The cut is on the back of my left leg, just below my hip," he instructed. He pulled up his shirttail and turned so that one of the beams crossed his leg.
She would have bet she'd embarrassed him, but she didn't stop. They both knew the wound needed tending. Rainey was thankful for the dark. She'd never seen a man's leg exposed, and this wasn't just any man's leg. This was Travis's.
Her hand touched his hip, and she felt the muscles tighten beneath her fingers. Her fingers moved down to the bandage at the top of his leg. Several spots of caked-in dried blood stained the soft cotton. She pulled a chair up and sat as he turned the wound toward her and waited. Her hand shook as she wet a rag in the warm water. She dripped water over the bandage and slowly soaked the cotton away from the wound. No wonder he hadn't been comfortable with the bandage of dried blood tied to his leg. She brushed her fingers over the unharmed skin as if in comfort.
He took a breath when she tossed the bandage aside, but didn't look at her.
Again she slid her hand down his hip slowly until she brushed over the stitches that had poked into his flesh on either side of a two-inch cut.
He sucked in air.
"I'm sorry," she whispered.
He didn't answer, but the muscles in his leg were so tight she thought he really could be made of oak. Carefully, with feather touches, she washed the wound, then let it dry. Her hand moved up to his waist.
"I've no more cuts," he said almost harshly.
"I know. I just wanted to touch you. In the times we've been alone and you've touched me, you've never let me touch you."
"It's not something a woman wants to do to a man."
Rainey spread her hand over his warm skin. "How do you know? Have you been with many women who told you that, or are you just guessing?"
"Just check the wound." His words could not have been colder, but his skin remained warm to her touch.
She brushed her fingers over the stitches and found the skin dry. "No more bleeding."
When she started to wrap the leg, he took the bandage away from her and did it himself, then he pulled up his trousers.
"I thought men wore long Johns all winter."
"Rainey, we shouldn't be having this conversation and yes, they do. Mine, however, seemed to have disappeared when I collapsed at the Baileys'."
"Oh," she whispered. "Wonder who took them off." She couldn't help but giggle at the possibility of the round little housekeeper doing it.
He buckled on his gun belt. "Good night, Rainey," he said as if they'd never been more than strangers. He obviously didn't see any humor in their conversation.
"Good night." She was almost to the kitchen door when she stopped, turned around, and went back. "Are you angry, or just being you? Sometimes, I swear, I can't tell."
"I have no idea how to answer that question," he snapped. "I'd find it hard to be anything but me."
She tried again. "All right, answer me this. Would you like to kiss me good night, or do you prefer to just snap at me in the hope that I'll run away?"
He lowered his voice, his words meant for just her ears. "I wouldn't mind a kiss, if you're offering. But this is hardly the time or place. You've been through a lot tonight. You probably need rest."
Before he could continue with his list of reasons not to kiss her, she rose on her tiptoes and kissed him. He didn't respond. She might as well have been kissing a statue. So she leaned closer and tried again. If he planned to remain cold, she wasn't going to make it easy on him. Her fingers dug into his hair and pulled him down a few inches. "We've both been through a great deal tonight," she whispered, her lips brushing his. "But I need to know how it is between us."
When her lips pressed against his, he snapped inside. Like a dam breaking, he pulled her against him and kissed her soundly. The hunger she tasted in his assault no longer frightened her.
When she pulled away, she whispered, "Travis, you remind me of a river. There's a strong current of feelings flowing in you, but I swear I have to crack the ice every time I want to get to you."
"Are you complaining, or bragging that you can do, so easily, what no woman's ever been able to do?"
"What's that," she whispered as she rubbed her cheek against his shoulder.
"Make me feel," he whispered. "Make me care."
He lowered into the chair and pulled her on his right leg. Then he kissed her again the way he swore he'd wanted to all night.
Rainey returned his kisses, but as he drank his fill of her, she moved her hands over his shirt. She wanted to know this man. She wanted to know his body as well as he knew hers.
When she unbuttoned the first few buttons of his shirt, his hand closed around hers, stopping her progress.
Rainey straightened, pulling away from him. "You're not stopping me from touching you, Travis McMurray, so there is no use in fighting."
He laughed and pulled her hand to his lips. After kissing her palm lightly, he whispered, "I've no desire to stop you, but now is not the time or place. I promise one day I'll spread out for you on a real bed and let you touch me wherever you like."
She pulled her hand away and unbuttoned another button. "Then, tonight, I'll be satisfied by feeling your heartbeat."
He didn't stop her and she moved her fingers beneath his shirt and slid across the wall of muscles to cover his heart.
She smiled as she pressed her palm over the beating. "I feel the center of you. I feel your heart."
"No," he whispered as he kissed her ear. "You are my heart."
They held each other until dawn. She'd drift into sleep and awaken to the feel of him moving his face against her hair, or sliding his hand gently down her body. When she stirred, he'd rock her gently against him and kiss her softly. She'd slide her hand over his heart and fall back asleep with the pounding of it against her palm.
When sunlight woke them both, he straightened and set her away from him. "Go back to the kitchen. You'll be safer there."
His words didn't sound harsh, but they weren't loving, as she'd hoped for. He was ordering her again. Doing his job, nothing more.