She quieted down. She had heard all she needed. She straightened her back and walked over to the kitchen for a towel to dry her face. When she looked back at Slade, he was scowling at her.
“You know, beautiful, if I thought for one moment you—”
“You swore, Slade,” she quickly reminded him.
“So I did.”
He grabbed his hat and moved to the front door, then stood there with the door open, staring out at the mountains.
Impulsively she said, “It’s too bad you and Lucas aren’t one and the same, Slade. Then I wouldn’t…” She stopped, amazed at herself. Couldn’t she leave well enough alone?
He didn’t turn around to look at her, but she heard him laugh. “What? Be faced with wanting us both?”
She didn’t dare answer that. But she did feel a little vindictive after all he had put her through. “You know, there is a little of you in Lucas. I’ve found that out. But there’s none of him in you. Go away, Slade. Leave us alone.”
Twenty-nine
Sharisse was sitting at the kitchen table when Lucas and Billy rode in late that afternoon. She had a jug of brew before her, though she had no idea what it was. She had gone to Willow and asked her for something to calm her nerves, and Willow had complied, though with misgivings. Sharisse didn’t care what she was drinking, because, with her cup near empty for the second time, she was calm.
When she saw Lucas standing in the doorway, all she could see was those cursed moccasins, and her heart plummeted, as she thought Slade was back. But this was Lucas. No more comparisons.
“You got back early,” she commented.
“Actually, I’m late,” Lucas replied, his gaze falling on the jug. “Hey, is that Billy’s mescal you’re drinking?”
Sharisse smiled. “I don’t know what it is. It’s not bad after the first few sips. And you can’t be late. Mack’s not back yet, and he said he wouldn’t be long.”
Lucas frowned. “Are you all right, Sharisse?”
His concern warmed her. “Well, of course. Why shouldn’t I be?”
“Willow said Slade was here.”
“Yes, your dear brother did pay us a call. But you know, Lucas, I think I might have misjudged Slade. He’s not such a bad sort really. Why, he didn’t rape me or kill me or anything.”
Lucas burst out laughing. “You’re drunk!”
“I am not!”
He pulled her to her feet, catching her around the waist. “This is not the kind of reception I was looking forward to, honey,” he told her huskily. “I’ve been thinking about you all day, but how can I take advantage of you when you’re like this?”
“Take advantage of me?” She frowned, then realization dawned. “Oh, that.” She wrapped her arms around his neck. “Well, sir, if you don’t, I’ll never forgive you.”
“Don’t what?”
“Take advantage of me. I insist.”
“Oh, well, if you insist.”
Sharisse squealed as he hefted her up onto his shoulder. He carried her straight into his bedroom and tumbled her onto the bed.
She held on to him as she fell, making sure he joined her. How wonderful it felt to have him there and not to feel guilty about what she was feeling. What she felt was fire in her blood.
“Oh, Lucas, I want you so much.”
Lucas tensed. “He does it to you every time, doesn’t he?” he asked, eyeing her carefully.
“Don’t. Don’t mention him,” she pleaded. “It’s you I want.”
