by Bobbi Smith
“She’s right here,” Steve assured him, and he stepped out of Sarah’s way so she could be at his bedside.
Steve didn’t see the hope that lit the boy’s face. Christopher wanted Elizabeth to hold him and soothe him and love him. He thought Elizabeth was coming to him.
“I’m here, sweetheart,” Sarah said softly as she sat down on the edge of the bed. She could see the confused look in the boy’s eyes and prayed that he wouldn’t blurt out anything in his delirium that would reveal their true identity.
Before Christopher could say anything, though, Steve spoke up, “Do you want the water bucket?”
“Yes, please,” she responded, then turned back to her nephew.
“Mother.” Christopher sighed, seeing in Sarah’s lovely face the resemblance to Elizabeth and believing the illusion. “I missed you, Mother. I missed you a lot.”
Sarah’s heart was breaking as she listened to him ramble. It was all she could do not to burst into tears, touched by the depth of his pain and loneliness. “I’ll take care of you, sweetheart. I promise. Here, drink this.” She pressed a cup of water to his lips.
He sipped listlessly. “I don’t feel good, Mother. I don’t feel good at all.”
“I know, and I’ll try to make it better.”
Christopher took a deep breath and closed his eyes wearily. When Steve returned with the bucket and rags, Sarah sponged the boy, fighting the fever with the chilling water.
“Let me help,” Steve offered, placing his hand over hers.
“All right.”
Sarah gave him another rag. She was glad that Steve was with her. When he was gone, she felt vulnerable and exposed, alone against the world. In his presence, she felt secure and safe.
For the rest of the night, they remained by Christopher’s side, changing the cooling compresses on his brow and bathing him to bring the raging fever down. The hours wore on. Sarah’s hope faded with the dawn. Christopher grew worse. Tossing restlessly, he called out to his mother. One minute he was sweating, and the next he was shivering with cold.
“What am I going to do, Steve?” she asked, close to panic.
“There’s not much else we can do right now,” Steve said, wiping the boy’s forehead.
“But he’s so sick. What if something happens to him?” Sarah stared at Christopher, feeling inadequate. “What if he dies?” she whispered, fear catching in her throat.
“He’s strong, Sarah.” Steve reassured her. “He’ll be fine in a day or two. You’ll see.”
“I hope you’re right.”
Steve put his hands on her shoulders and turned her to face him. “Have I been wrong yet?”
Sarah’s gaze was troubled as she looked up at him, and she was touched when she saw mirrored in Steve’s eyes all the love and unquestioning support she would ever need. In that moment, Sarah longed to confide in him. She wanted to go into his arms and draw upon his wondrous strength, but she turned quickly back to the ill child.
“It’s dawn and the wagons will be pulling out within the hour,” Steve reminded her. “Would you rather stay here another day and try to catch up with the train later when he’s well?”
Staying in one place appealed to her, but the terror of Michael’s men was never far from her mind. Steve saw the conflicting play of emotions in her expression, and he knew her answer even before she gave it.
“No. We can’t stop. We have to keep moving.”
Steve wondered again at the terrible secret that held her in its grip. “Sarah.” He reached out and took her hand. “Don’t you know by now that I care about you and Christopher? Don’t you realize that I’d do anything for you? Let me help you.”
“We have to go on.”
He studied her for a long, quiet moment, then said, “I’ll get the team ready, and I’ll bring you some breakfast before we go.”
“Thank you.”
Sarah remained with Christopher, never leaving through the interminable hours that followed. At noon, Steve spelled her, insisting she rest before they moved on. She hadn’t thought she’d be able to sleep; but, curled on the small bed that was Christopher’s, she found she was exhausted.
Steve watched Sarah as she slept. He noticed that dark circles marred the pale flesh beneath her eyes. He realized the trauma of the boy’s illness was taking its toll on her as well, and a surge of protectiveness filled him. He had to make sure Christopher recovered.
With a start, Steve realized he no longer felt he was playing the role of husband and father. Sarah and Christopher were the closest thing to family he had, and he wanted to make it permanent. He loved Sarah and wanted her to be his wife. He wanted to cherish her and build a future with her, and he wanted to raise Christopher as his own.
The revelation shouldn’t have surprised him. A gambler, he hadn’t given much thought to settling down, but now it seemed the only possible course. He wanted the best for Sarah and Christopher, and he would do whatever was necessary to provide it for them. Steve reluctantly woke Sarah.
“Is something wrong?” she asked, coming awake quickly, instantly afraid.
“No, nothing’s changed. It’s just time to roll the wagons again. Did the rest help?”
Sarah stifled a yawn as she sat up. “Yes, thanks. I guess was I more tired than I thought.”
Steve saw to the team, then climbed back up in the driver’s seat to take up the reins. They moved on again, and Sarah returned to her vigil at Christopher’s side.
By the time they made camp that night, Sarah was growing terrified. As if patterning itself after the heat of the day, Christopher’s fever had grown hotter with each passing hour. He’d become completely delirious, and she feared each breath would be his last. Steve came to help her, and they tried to make him drink but met with little success. Steve was frustrated by the boy’s worsening condition. His heart was heavy as he sat with Sarah. Christopher had grown very quiet, and his stillness worried them even more than his delirium. The fever had sapped his strength, draining away his will to live.
Sarah’s hands twisted nervously in her lap. “Steve, what will I do if anything happens to Christopher?” she asked, choking as the tears she’d fought against for so long finally began to fall.
Steve could see her desperation, and he reached out to wipe away her tears. “We’re not going to give up,” he told her firmly. “We’ll pull him through this. He’s going to live, Sarah. Christopher is going to live.”
“He’s so little.”
“He’s young, but he’s strong. He’ll make it.” Steve tried to sound confident.
“I can’t lose Christopher, too,” she told him frantically. The boy was the only living connection to the sister she had loved.
Steve saw the anguish in her eyes and believed she was thinking of her dead husband. How he loved her! If he could have, he would have traded his own life for the boy’s just to make her happy. He wanted her to smile again.
“I understand, Sarah. You’ve lost so much already.” He tightened his grip on her hands. “I know how much your husband must have meant to you and how much you miss him.”
“I can’t lose Christopher, too, Steve. I couldn’t bear it.”
“I know how much you’ve suffered, but I’m here now. Trust me. Lean on me. Together, we’ll save him.”
Her eyes met his, and Sarah saw concern in his gaze. She knew then that she not only trusted him completely but loved him as well. If it were possible to will someone to get well, Sarah knew Steve would do it. She said nothing but went into his arms, resting her head against his broad shoulder. His arms went around her, protecting her, strengthening her, shielding her from all harm. She could hear the powerful thudding of Steve’s heart and drew comfort from it.
Together, they remained at Christopher’s side through the long dark hours. Steve knew Christopher’s life was in God’s hands; and, though he hadn’t prayed in many years, he prayed for the fever to break. When at long last exhaustion claimed them, Sarah dozed in Steve’s arms as he sat w
ith her, holding her against him.
“Mother.” Christopher spoke the word hoarsely for his throat was parched and dry.
Their eyes flew open at the sound of his voice, and Sarah threw herself from Steve’s arms when she realized her nephew was awake and alert. She touched his cheek and found it cool. Tears fell freely—tears of happiness, not sorrow.
“What happened? Why are you crying?”
“You were sick, son,” Steve told him, “but it’s over now.”
“Oh,” he responded dreamily. “Can I have a drink?” he asked. “I’m thirsty.” Rejoicing, they poured him a fresh glass of cool water. Steve helped him sit up while Sarah held the glass to his lips. “Thank you.” He lay back, smiling as he muttered, “I’m tired. I’m going to sleep for a while.”
They kept watch until he drifted into a relaxed, normal sleep, then they looked at each other in joyous wonder. The lines and shadows of fatigue showed plainly in their faces, but happiness and relief lit them with a peace-filled inner glow. The trauma was over. Christopher’s fever had broken. He would pull through.
Steve climbed down from the wagon then waited to help Sarah. His hands firmly holding her at her waist, he lifted her lightly to the ground. He expected her to move away from him the moment he released her, but Sarah didn’t. She remained next to him, her hands resting on his shoulders as she gazed up into his eyes.
“You said you’d do it, and you did,” she whispered, the true love she felt for him shining in her misty eyes. “Thank you, Steve Spencer. I don’t know what I would have done without you. I would never have had the courage to face this alone.”
“Of course you would have. You have more courage than most men, Sarah,” Steve told her.
“Well, I thank you.”
“I don’t want your gratitude.”
“It’s not gratitude I’m offering, Steve.” Without saying anything more, Sarah pulled him down to her. Her mouth sought and found his. Although her experience was limited, her desire was great. Steve gathered her to him.
“I love you, Sarah.” The words were finally spoken.
“And I love you, Steve.”
Steve could hold back no longer. He clasped her to his chest, unleashing the love and devotion he’d kept locked inside. His lips were firm as they moved over hers, evoking a passionate response. He believed her to be experienced. He believed she knew what she was doing. When they broke apart, he took her by the hand and drew her to the privacy of his bed beneath the wagon. The fires were banked and gave off only the faintest glow. They were alone in a joyful world of their own. Man and woman. Together.
Chapter Twenty-One
Her weariness vanished as Sarah lay down with Steve under the wagon. It was cave-like there, dark and warm and protected; and, as they came together on the softness of his bed, the world and its ugliness disappeared. Sarah knew she belonged in Steve’s arms. It was right that they were together.
Steve’s mouth claimed hers in a wondrous kiss, and Sarah responded eagerly. She had never been held so intimately by a man before, and she gloried in how perfectly they fit together. The hard planes of his body seemed made for the soft contours of her own. Sarah gave a sigh as his lips moved persuasively over hers, coaxing, then becoming more demanding as his hunger for her grew. She clung to him, offering herself completely.
Steve held Sarah close, his head spinning. He’d longed for this moment from the first time he’d seen her on the train. She’d been beautiful then, despite her mourning clothes; but now, he thought her even more lovely. Sarah was everything he’d ever wanted in a woman. She was beauty and gentleness and courage. Her very touch could arouse him.
There were still many things about her he didn’t know—many mysteries about her past that were as yet unsolved, but they no longer seemed important. All that mattered was that she had come to him willingly. She loved him. Tonight, at long last, he would make love to her. He would show her with his body how much she meant to him, and he would try to replace the thoughts she had of her dead husband with newer, happier ones of them together. He hoped this night of love would give them the foundation they needed to build a future together, for he no longer wanted to play at being her husband and Christopher’s father. He wanted the role in real life.
“I love you,” he whispered once more in a love-husky voice.
Steve’s lips left hers to explore the soft sweetness of her throat, and Sarah arched against him as he pressed heated kisses to the sensitive skin near her ear. The thrust of her breasts against his chest urged him on, and he could no longer resist the driving urge to caress her. His hands skimmed over her womanly curves, tracing patterns of fire wherever he touched her.
Sarah had never been touched so boldly before, and when his hands cupped her breasts, she stiffened in surprise. She was frightened by the power of the feelings he created within her. Steve sensed her resistance and kissed her again, more gently this time, urging a response from her, warming her with his tenderness.
Sarah relaxed at his tenderness. This was Steve, who had rescued her so many times and asked nothing in return but her trust. She had come to love him against her will, and she wanted to share that love with him now. She wanted to hold him, kiss him, and never let him go. Snaking her arms about his neck, she kissed him with abandon.
Steve had been worried when he’d felt Sarah tense beneath his caress, afraid that she would balk at loving another man. Not wanting to force her, only wanting to please her, he slowed his pace. Only when she put her arms around him and told him with her kiss that she wanted him, did he finally believe she was his. Joy filled his heart, and he removed his shirt and began to unbutton her dress.
When Steve slipped her gown from her shoulders, Sarah felt shy but did not protest. Instead, she reached for him, eager to run her hands across his chest and recalling the stirrings of desire on that first day when she’d watched him shaving.
“Sarah.” He groaned her name at her display of boldness. He wanted her to desire him, and it thrilled him that she did. Steve slipped her undergarments from her with her help. When at last she lay before him, he couldn’t take his eyes off her. She was perfect. She was his dream.
“You’re beautiful, Sarah,” he spoke in a husky voice as his gaze seared her.
Sarah trembled. She wanted him as much as he wanted her, yet she hesitated to tell him. Steve saw her tremble. Was she having second thoughts? He had to ask. “Is something wrong?”
“No,” Sarah answered with a soft smile as she lifted her arms to him in invitation. “I’m just a little afraid.”
“Don’t be, love. I’d never hurt you.”
“I know.”
When he came to her, Sarah opened to him like a blossom to the sun. When his hands sought her breasts, she reveled in the excitement that pulsed through her. His mouth covered hers and then Sarah moaned as his lips moved to her taut breast. The sensation was new. A longing began to grow deep in the womanly core of her body. It urged her to move against him, to seek out the hardness of him. She caressed Steve as he’d caressed her, her fingers exploring the strength of his shoulders and his back before moving up to tangle in his hair. A cry escaped her as he turned his loving attentions to her other breast and his hand moved between her thighs with intimate knowledge.
Sarah should have been shocked by his touch, so intimate, so exciting, but in her eagerness she could not deny him anything. His touch was gentle, and the heated kisses left her ecstatic. She believed he would never hurt her. She knew he would be kind. She trusted him.
His skin was hot to the touch and as he moved over her again, she celebrated the erotic excitement. She caressed him, and when he groaned in pleasure at her daring, she was pleased. It excited her to know that she could arouse him, too.
Steve kissed deeply, his tongue seeking and finding hers in the sweetness of her mouth. She moved restlessly beneath him, and he knew she was ready for him. Once more he caressed her hips and thighs and then sought her most piercing pleasure point. H
e wanted to please her.
Sarah was aflame with desire. Steve’s intoxicating kiss and touch were taking her higher and higher, coiling to near-painful excitement the aching need within her. She needed him. She needed what he could give her. She needed . . .
Sarah wasn’t sure exactly what it was she needed to ease the frenzied ache in her heart. She only knew that it could be found in Steve’s embrace. Wrapping her arms around him, she held him tightly to her, loving the feel of his weight upon her.
Steve moved away to shed the rest of his clothes, and, feeling the loss, she begged him to come back. When he did, his lips reclaimed hers in a hungry kiss. Sarah clung to him, returning his kiss with willing ecstasy. His mouth left hers to trace a fiery path down the side of her neck to her shoulder and then lower once more to her breast. Sarah moaned as desire mounted to an ever-heightening peak within her. As his mouth worked wonders on her supple flesh, his hands continued their maddening foray.
Steve wanted to know that he’d satisfied her. His caresses grew more and more intense until she cried out in rapture as the thrilling peak burst upon her. Sarah clasped him to her as the first waves crashed through her, leaving her breathless with a mixture of explosive need and wonder. It passed all too quickly, and in the blissful aftermath of the thrilling pleasure he’d given her, she felt limp, almost exhausted, yet oddly exhilarated.
Steve was elated that he’d pleased her, but he was not about to let her rest. He wanted to show her love’s fullest joy. Fitting himself to the perfection of her body, he slid his hands beneath her hips and positioned himself to take her.
Sarah’s eyes flew open and she gazed up at him. As he rose above her, she thought him the most handsome man in the world. His features were passion-hardened, and his eyes were dark with the emotions that filled him. She’d never dreamed that this moment could be so poignant, so perfect. She thought she should be a little afraid, but she wasn’t. This was Steve. This was what she wanted.
Steve watched her, thinking her the most breathtaking woman he’d ever seen. As his gaze met hers, he saw a flicker of caution. Or was it fear? Slowly, he thrust himself into her, mesmerized by her sweetness until—abruptly—Steve realized that Sarah was a virgin. He was stunned. Sarah . . . how? Why? What about Christopher? Steve froze and began to pull away.
