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“Robert Morgan,” he said, his firm hand a strangely soothing presence on Bobby’s shoulder.
Bobby looked up, and to his surprise, a smile adorned the Indian’s usually stern face.
“The fever has broken. Your woman, Naomi, will live.”
Chapter Twelve
“No, you will not take me back and leave me there!” Naomi threw a handful of parched corn at Bobby.
He’d held her, fed her, slept next to her for the several days it took for her body to gain enough strength to travel. He’d spoken to her words of his heart, words she needed to help her heal. He’d kissed her lips chastely when she asked him to, knowing she was too weak for anything more. He’d done so with his whole body and soul, needing to see her strong again, needing her goodness, her purity. To remember it during those long nights alone that were coming once he took her home.
Now, after several hours on horseback, they’d stopped for the noon meal, and standing over her, he’d told her the truth. He was taking her to her father.
And leaving her there.
She’d reacted pretty much like he expected. He steeled his body, his heart, against her pleas and concentrated on what she needed. What was best for her.
Never again would she be in danger because of him.
“You promised me, Bobby! You promised you wouldn’t leave me!” She stood and ran into him, no doubt paining her shoulder, and pounded her fists against his chest. “I won’t go. I won’t. I’m not leaving you.”
Her wet violet gaze met his, and he nearly lost his resolve. But no, he’d be strong. He had to. For her sake.
He grabbed her arms, mindful of her wound, but she squirmed against him, pressed her breasts into his chest, and laid her head against his heart. And she wept.
“Please, Bobby. I don’t want to be without you. You said you loved me. You said you’d never leave me.”
Bobby’s heart thumped, and he gathered her close. God, how he loved this woman. She was so strong, so beautiful, so inherently good inside.
Which is why he had to let her go.
“Naomi, you know I’ll be arrested as soon as we get to Dugan.”
“Then we won’t go to Dugan.”
“Don’t you want to see your ma and pa? Your sister?”
“Not if it means losing you. I choose you, Bobby. You. With all my heart.”
“Angel, please. I can’t let you.”
Naomi seized his face in her hands and smashed his mouth down against hers. Her tongue licked the seam between his lips, and though he tried resisting, his body responded. He parted his lips and took her, tangling his tongue with hers, relishing the taste, the texture, the pure sweetness that was Naomi. A high-pitched moan escaped her throat and vibrated into his mouth.
He deepened the kiss, groaning, and pulled her against his arousal that pulsed in his britches.
If only...
He ripped his mouth from hers and regarded her beautiful face. A strawberry flush coated her cheeks and neck. Her violet eyes had darkened to a smoldering amethyst, and her lips—those lovely, soft lips—were scarlet and swollen from their passionate kiss.
“Bobby.” Her husky voice spoke to his soul. “Bobby, if you’re determined to leave me, at least make love to me one more time.”
Her words sliced through him like a hunting blade. God, how he wanted it. To feel her body sheath him once more, to drown in her sweetness, in her passion. He might be able to exist a lifetime with only the memory to warm him.
But it couldn’t happen. “I can’t, angel. We can’t risk—” He cleared his throat. “I can’t give you a child.”
She looked up and her beautiful eyes shone with triumph. “You may have already given me a child. What exactly are you going to do about that?”
“No.” He caressed her back. “Don’t you remember, darlin’? You had your courses during the fever.”
