Free Outlaw for Christmas (9781101573020) by Lori Austin Page A

tree. “Merry Christmas, Cora. Happy Christmas, Susan.”
    He took a large gulp of the russet liquid, relishing the burn, followed by the warmth. These days, the only warmth he ever felt on the inside came out of a bottle.
    A sad sigh made Robert turn, but all he saw was the tail end of Ruth’s gown disappearing around the corner of the room.
    â€œJust as well,” he murmured. “She doesn’t understand.”
    By the time the goose was ready, Robert was halfway though his third brandy and no longer cared about laughter, dinner, or any daughter—dead or alive.
    Just another Christmas at the Kellys’.

Chapter Four
    Toward noon on Christmas Day, Noah was able to get up and step onto the back porch rather than use the chamber pot Ruth had left at his bedside. He fed the fire and made some coffee, but the effort of drinking it exhausted him so much that he fell back asleep.
    When Noah woke again, he smelled something wonderful. His stomach growled. He was definitely better.
    His shirt was ruined, he couldn’t find his pants, and his extra clothes resided in his saddlebags, which must be out in the barn with Dog. Since the heavenly smell of food had to have been through Ruth’s efforts, Noah didn’t think it prudent to walk into the kitchen naked, as he had earlier. Especially after the incident last night, or had that been early this morning?
    He couldn’t remember when, but he certainly remembered what and how. Despite his mortification over kissing Ruth, touching Ruth, wanting Ruth, his sleeping mind had not been similarly embarrassed. When he had fallen asleep the second time, he had dreamed of her in ways he never had before and never should again.
    Noah struggled out of bed and wrapped the bedsheet around his hips. A few short steps to the kitchen and he found Ruth stirring a pot on the stove.
    She still wore her holiday best—a frilly concoction of pale yellow silk. Though the dress did not suit her, appeared in fact as if it belonged on someone else, her hair had loosened from whatever style she’d worn that day, and tendrils curled about her face wildly. With her hair like that, she reminded Noah of the child she had been. The sweet girl who had adored him. The only person who had ever said they loved him.
    Of course, she hadn’t known what she was saying. She’d been frightened and desperate. But he’d held those words to his heart just the same. Noah couldn’t remember how many times he’d summoned the memory of Ruth when he needed a little bit of warmth in his life.
    He shifted, and she glanced up. “Merry Christmas,” he murmured.
    Her eyes widened, then drifted over him. He must look a sight—hair tangled and reaching to his shoulders, three days’ growth of beard, bloody bandage across his belly and a sheet at his waist.
    Noah tugged the sheet higher. “Couldn’t find my pants.”
    Her gaze, which had been on his chest, dipped lower, then flew back to his face. Her cheeks flushed, and she studiously stirred whatever was in the pot.
    Merry Christmas. Couldn’t find my pants.
    Had he actually said that? Noah wanted to kick himself. When had he reverted to a green boy with his first woman? And why did he keep thinking in such terms about Ruth?
    â€œI brought your bags in.” She pointed to his saddlebags in the corner of the room, then ladled soup into a bowl and crossed to the table. “You need to eat and regain your strength. I’ve made soup from the Christmas goose.”
    Noah managed the short distance between his room and the kitchen table admirably, he thought. But it felt good to sit, even better to eat. A day earlier, he’d thought he would be the one being eaten—by coyotes, buzzards, or worse.
    He’d learned long ago that a single day could make a lifetime of difference. One minute a man was flush, the next broke. One day alive, the next dead. One second alone and so very lonely,