Her naked body shimmered in the moonlight. She grinned wickedly, straddling him and placing a cube of sugar on his navel. She tipped the bottle.
Drops of absinthe splashed on his stomach. His head buzzed from the one too many cocktails. His fingers knotted in her auburn tresses as she covered her mouth over his bellybutton.
She sucked the concoction from his heated skin, languidly kissing further and further down. Her tongue flicked and swirled over him.
Every nerve fired in him at once. She knew how to send him over the edge.
She curled up next to him, pressing her lips to his jaw. He was weakened from her attentions.
Kitty let her fingers wander through the patch of hair on his chest. Her eyes skimmed over his unadorned torso. She fixedly stared at the aftermath of the eleventh bullet she'd watched Doc dig out of him.
The angry, aggravated sutures reminded her that she'd never win against the badge, but she would try. "Let's stay in New Orleans, Matt," she whispered, fingertips dawdling on his strong jaw, collarbone, chest, and his muscled abdomen. "I can't see you lying in the street again with a bullet in you. Cowboy, let's start over," she pleaded, muffled as her lips teased his skin.
He was silent, struggling with the beguiling feel of her lips against his heated flesh and the dense fog of alcohol. His brows furrowed as he sluggishly grasped what she'd said, taking her honeyed words as an ultimatum. He lightly simmered, suspecting that she'd been trying to manipulate him with seduction. Matt pulled himself from her tangled limbs and cotton sheets, his feet hitting the pine floorboards. He tugged on his pants, stumbling over the cat stretched across the hardwood, causing him to bump into the doorframe. He swore, staggering through the darkened sitting room and the French doors, tumbling out into the courtyard.
"Matt," she called out, pushing herself off the mattress and sliding out of bed. She plucked a nightdress from the arm of a chair and slipped into it, following him out. "Where the hell are you going?! Don't run off! Please…stay with me, Matt. Let's start over. We can get married. We can—"
He turned and set his eyes on her, shaking his head. "No, Kitty. I came down here to take you back with me."
"I'm not going back to Dodge with you."
The rigid, forceful pitch of her voice ripped through him. Her unwavering expression would have made most men recoil.
He dug in his heels, hooking his thumbs into the loops of his belt. "I'll come back later for you. Pack your things. You're being ridiculous."
Kitty was stunned. She heard his footfalls on the heart-of-pine floor and stepped back inside the sitting room, dropping into the armchair, rubbing her forehead.
"Who's Henri?" he growled, carelessly buttoning his wrinkled shirt. The dozen red roses he'd spotted triggered his jealousy. The scribble of the card made his blood boil. She'd been in New Orleans for two weeks and found another man?! He'd made love to her for the first time in weeks, and she had played him like a fiddle.
Her breath hitched in her throat. She'd forgotten about the roses. She drew her bottom lip between her teeth and looked up at him. "Matt, I—"
"Who is he?" He crumpled the cardstock in his hand and tossed it at her feet.
"A man," she answered, unable to tell him more. She couldn't tell him that he was from her past life in New Orleans. He was her first – her first everything. He wouldn't understand what that meant to a woman.
"Has he been in your bed?" he growled. Her silence exacerbated his temper. He stalked to her, grabbing her shoulders, pulling her up from the chair. His fingers dug into her upper arms. "Answer me, Kitty," he rumbled.
She struggled against him, fear settling into the pit of her stomach. Her voice caught in her throat. His hands gripped her tighter. She didn't recognize the man she'd fallen in love with. Rage and jealousy had suddenly twisted and warped him. Tears trickled down her face.
"Matt, you're hurting me! Please, let me go. Matt, please," she desperately pleaded.
"He has been in your bed. He fell for your feminine wiles. Didn't he?" he snarled, inches from her tear-stained face.
She struck like a rattlesnake. Her open palm slapped his face. He immediately released her.
His cheek stung. He stumbled back, horrified at his actions. He cupped his face and stared at her. "Kitty, I don't kn-I'm…I'm sorry," he mumbled faintly and left as quickly as his wrath had dissipated.
Her eyes jerked open, startled by the heaviness on her thighs. She blew out a rugged breath and glanced down at her lap. The long-haired black as coal cat that had come with the cottage stared at her with large green eyes and meowed, rubbing against her corseted torso. "I just sat down for a minute and fell asleep," she murmured and slid her hand down the cat's back.
Kitty hadn't seen Matt, but she knew he was still in his room at The Seraphine. She rolled her eyes as the cat stuck his head into the drinking glass and greedily lapped up the Sazerac she'd sat down with before her impromptu nap.
"Toulouse," she scolded the feline version of Louie Pheeters. "I'm cuttin' you off," she said sharply, gently gripping the loose skin on the back of the cat's neck. She snatched the glass before Toulouse could jam his head back inside.
Kitty pushed herself off the settee and staggered, thrusting her hand out to brace herself against the wall. She closed her eyes and fought against the lightheadedness. "Oh God," she muttered, slouching against the sitting room wall, feeling unsettled by the metallic taste in her mouth. She removed the stopper from the absinthe bottle and gulped the strong, herbal spirit to purge the coppery bitterness from her mouth.
The unwell redhead clamped her hand over her mouth and dashed through the doorway. Her bare feet pounded on the flagstone of the courtyard until she stopped, succumbing to the nausea she had wrestled all day, retching into the shrubbery. She straightened with a pathetic moan, dabbing at the corner of her mouth with the back of her hand, resting her palm over her roiling stomach.
The realization struck her. She hadn't bled since April. Her cerulean eyes widened as panic seeped into her.
"No, no, no," she whispered to herself over the noise of her heart hammering into her ears.
Her chest heaved with each rattled breath. Kitty felt like she couldn't draw enough air into her lungs. Her garments suddenly felt tight and constricting. With trembling hands, she pulled at the high neck of her scalloped lace blouse and undid the delicate pearl buttons at the nape of her neck with trembling hands. Her vision blurred with hot tears. She pushed her auburn bangs off her damp forehead and tilted her head back, staring at the blue-black sky, concentrating on the new moon blending in with the heavens until she calmed.