"She needs me," she sobbed against her calf.

Clint unclenched her hands and removed her nails from her thighs. His fingers under her chin brought hergaze to his.

"Yes, she does." His hand replaced hers on her thigh, covering much more area, its warmth seeping past her pain. "But not right now."

Jenna could barely hear Brianna anymore. She tried to jerk her chin free. "Yes, now."

Clint kept her chin right where he wanted it. She didn't have any choice but to meet his gaze. "You aren't any use to her like this."

She hated him for pointing that out. "I'll be fine."

"Tomorrow you will be."

"I'm not a cripple." All her vehemence got was a rise of his brow.

"No you're not, but you are in a lot of pain, and I'm not going to let that continue." His fingers began a gentle ma.s.sage. "Breathe, Jenna."

She didn't realize she'd been holding her breath. She let it out on a shudder, and he worked the spasming muscles, seeming to read their intent with his hands and forestalling further rebellion. Controlling them the way he controlled everything around him.

"When I get you settled through this, I'm going to get you that tea, dose it with laudanum, and you are going to rest until your leg recovers."

"I am?""Yes."

"And who will take care of Brianna?"

"I will."

"You can't take care of a baby!"

His dark gaze dropped to her b.r.e.a.s.t.s with an intensity that shook her.

"If you were feeding her yourself, that would be true, but as you're not, I figure I've got it covered."

"You can't want to do this." What man wanted to take care of a fretful, crying newborn?

"It needs to be done." Which told her nothing about how he felt.

The cramping was easing. She stretched her leg just a little, experimenting.

"Better?" he asked, his eyes meeting hers, expressionless as usual, not revealing anything to her while she felt he knew everything about her.

"A little." It still ached, but the knifing pains had stopped.

"Good. I'll get the tea in a minute."

"I'm not taking that stuff."

"You are." He worked down by her knee at the base of the scar, and a driving pain ripped through her. She fell against him, needing his strength just for this moment, hoping that he would give it to her as he hadonce before. He did, turning so that she rested more comfortably against him.

"Breathe, Sunshine," he whispered in her ear. "Just breathe and let me make this better."

"You're making it worse," she gasped, her head resting weakly on his shoulder. She took a breath and inhaled the scents of pine and the outdoors. She recognized it immediately. It was etched into her brain from that awful night six months ago when he'd held her in his arms and driven her demons away. As he was doing now.

"Just for a minute." The sympathy in his voice undermined her control. Tears burned behind her eyelids. She was so weak and he made it so easy to lean on him. To let him take over. As if he knew, his voice grew softer, his drawl slower. "Just for a minute more it's going to hurt, Sunshine, and then you'll be a whole lot more comfortable."

He made it so hard to remember that she was learning to be strong for a reason. "Just because you say so?"

His cheek brushed hers as he nodded, his voice as compelling as always, coaxing her to relax. To give in. To him.

"Yes. Because I say so." His fingers pressed deeper, working the same magic on the muscle that his voice didon her nerves. Soothing and coaxing, yet somehow commanding. Her leg relaxed and the excruciating agony faded to a throbbing ache.

"Ah." The whisper of satisfaction drifted past her ear as the knot let loose. "There you go."

He stroked her thigh through her pantaloons, from the top of the scar to the bottom. "And after a night's rest, you'll be as good as new."

"Why does it matter so much to you?"

"I'm your husband, father to your daughter."

"Just saying it doesn't make it so."

Clint didn't let his gaze waver from hers, but a smile tugged the corner of his mouth.

"Unless I have the muscle to back it up," he finished with the part she'd left off. "And Sunshine, I have plenty of muscle."

Her big blue eyes widened at that, staring at him in a mixture of shock and disbelief. Clint didn't care. He'd been in l.u.s.t with the voluptuous little optimist since the day he'd seen her standing in front of the mercantile, head bowed, earnestly listening to a set of instructions rapped out by her husband. She'd looked so soft, so inviting, so radiant with some sort of inner glow, that he'd fallen a.s.s-over-band-box, and he was tired of fighting it. Tired of fighting the fate that kept throwing her in his path. Tired of resisting the shy, curious,unconsciously hungry yearning in her eyes when she looked at him. He'd been a selfish b.a.s.t.a.r.d since the day he was born. He was pretty much set in his ways at thirty. No sense trying to change things at this point in the game.

And he wanted Jenna like h.e.l.l on fire. He knew her husband had been a b.a.s.t.a.r.d. Knew more than he would ever tell her on that subject. It was his experience that women tended to marry the same kind of man the second time around. Maybe settling for the devil they knew. He could see Jenna doing that. She didn't have her feet under her yet. She was scared, hungry, and vulnerable in ways that she didn't even recognize.

Jenna deserved better than a repeat of her first marriage. She deserved security. Dignity. Respect. He could give her those things.

He worked at the lingering tightness under the scar tissue, the softer than soft, unburned flesh on the outside skimming his fingertips, reminding him again of the lushness he coveted. Craved. He cut a glance out of the corner of his eye at her troubled face, keeping his expression blank as he let the reality of his claim sink in.

He might be a selfish b.a.s.t.a.r.d, but there were three things he knew how to do well-kill, make love, and keep what was his. He'd just claimed this woman and that spiky- haired urchin as his own, before Doc. They belonged to him now. His family. He pictured coming home to Jenna.him now. His family. He pictured coming home to Jenna.

Waking with her in his bed. He inhaled the rose scent of her shampoo, and felt a small measure of peace settle amidst the turmoil inside. This was right.

"You don't have anything to worry about," he told her as she shifted back.

He saw her mouth open, and just as quickly saw the caution that had been beaten into her drive the protest away. Her gaze dropped and her husky voice emerged in a whisper. "You don't have to marry me."

"No, I don't." But the more he thought on it, the more he wanted it. He moved his fingers down to her knee, being especially gentle there. Stroking and soothing the tired muscles, trying to ease the tension in the rest of her body as she leaned back. He knew she was afraid of his size. So far he couldn't tell if it was just him or all big men, but one way or another, he'd be getting rid of that fear.

"I can take care of Brianna on my own." Her fingers were laced tighter than a cinch in her lap. Her spine was rod straight, but her chin tucked. Hiding her face.

"No. You can't." He cut off her protest with a shake of his head, "You might get by for a few years, but what about when she gets bigger and men start thinking she's fair game because of her skin color? How will you protect her then?"

She didn't have a ready answer. An occasionalglimpse of blue told him she was peeking at him from beneath her lashes.

"What does it matter to you?" she finally asked.

"I suspect for the same reason it matters to you. She's little and helpless and needs someone to stand for her."

He shrugged and gave her the truth. "And I've a hankering for a family of my own."

"I don't want her hurt," she said, revealing what he suspected was her greatest fear.

"Neither do I."

"She'll be hurt when you leave."

He circled that for a moment. "Why would I leave?"

"You'll get bored. Find something better."

He suspected the phrase she really wanted to use was "someone better". Her knuckles gleamed white under her skin. She really didn't think much of herself.

He put both thumbs on either side of her knee and started sliding them up her thigh. "Then I guess it'll be up to you to make me want to stay."

As he expected, his hands moving up her thigh provided a bit of distraction.

"What are you doing?" It was practically a squeak.

"Relaxing your muscles."

"I don't have any muscles there."

Yes, she did. Wonderfully enticing ones, but he'dhave to save those for another day. He reversed the direction of his hands, stopping when he cradled the rough scar tissue in his palms, just resting his hands on her soft flesh, letting the heat soothe, the contact fl.u.s.ter.

He wanted her very aware of him.

"Jenna?"

She cut him a quick glance.

"Look at me." She did, but he could see what it cost her.

"I want a family. Someone to come home to. I'm not looking for a grand love. I just want someone I can respect. Someone I can talk to. Someone who thinks about things the way I do. Someone to build a home with."

"And you think that's me?" She couldn't sound more disbelieving if he'd told her the sky was pink with brown polka dots.

"Yes." He patted her thigh and stood. "I want to marry you, Jenna. I want Brianna as my daughter. You just have to make up your mind to say yes."

Her hands twisted in her lap. "I don't know."

The confusion on her face told him she wasn't leading him on. She'd honestly never thought he'd consider her.

"I haven't made it a secret I'm looking for a wife."Her eyes narrowed in an involuntary flinch. He studied her more closely. "Surely you had to know I'd get around to asking you out?"

"Of course not!"

"You think I'd pick a wife without at least having dinner with the most beautiful woman in the territory?"

"You never asked me." Her teeth were worrying her lips, and her glance kept flickering over his face as if searching for clues to his thoughts.

"I'm asking you now." He refused to let her look away. "Are you going to marry me?"

She shoved her skirt down over her thighs. He was beginning to get the idea that it wasn't him but the act of making a decision that was bothering her. He waited a good two minutes while she fussed with her clothes and the bed linens before she blurted out, "I've been married before."

"I know."

"I'm not a...virgin."

"I don't remember that being a requirement."

"I'm not very good in social situations."

"I don't throw a lot of parties."

"I'm fat."

At that, he tipped her chin up. "Look at me."

She did, but with reluctance and a great deal ofembarra.s.sment.

"I'm going to speak plainly here because both of us have been around enough to know what matters. I'm a normal man with normal hungers. Probably not much different than your previous husband in that respect."

That information didn't appear to soothe her. He slid his fingers around to the side of her cheek. His skin was very dark against hers. "The truth is Jenna Hennesey, soon to be McKinnely, I've been hankering to have you in my bed since the first time I saw you."

The blush fled her cheeks only to return in a brilliant flare of scarlet. "You have?"

He wouldn't have heard that tiny squeak if he hadn't been listening so closely. "Yes."

"Oh." A long pause and then, "You like fat women?"

"I've always liked you, but you were married and off-limits. Now you're not."

It really was as simple as that, but apparently not to Jenna because her expression went from disbelief to alarm in two blinks of her long, dark lashes. He sighed and tested the softness of her skin with the pad of his thumb.

"Maybe you'd better tell me what's got you so worried."

"I wasn't planning on getting married again.""I also imagine you weren't planning on being a mother, but things change."

"Yes. They do."

"And you need to make a decision."

"Now?"