Pungent smoke rose up, burning his nose and filling his lungs, but still he labored at the flames. Fortunately the yard was barren and the house made of stone. The only exposed wood was around the eaves and windows and on the porches and doors. Ellie watered down the window frames and the ground around the house.
The fragile tumbleweeds collapsed when they reached the wet earth, finding nothing on which to feed their flames. Ellie carried bucket after bucket of water to douse the sparks still smoldering around the fence.
Kale looked up the hill to where the fire had started. A smoking path about twenty yards wide blackened the earth, beginning on the opposite side of the live oak tree near Benjamin’s grave.
“Let’s get this.” He motioned up the fire’s path. “We don’t want to wake up tonight in the middle of a grass fire.”
Ellie grabbed a saddle blanket from the barn and joined him, thrashing and stomping her way up the hillside.
The wind had blown tumbleweeds across the rock-strewn ground at a good clip, leaving little fire in its wake. What grass there was grew in small sprigs around rocks and at the base of prickly pear clusters. The cactus plants were so full of water only their needles would burn, but Kale kicked the fronds aside with his boots to make sure no sparks were hidden beneath them.
Reaching the top of the hill, he slumped against the oak tree. His body was soaked with sweat and covered with soot and dirt. He reached out a hand to Ellie as she staggered the last few steps to the tree.
“With a little more practice, we’ll get good at this,” he said.
At the tug of his hand, she fell against him. Their heaving chests labored, first his, then hers. His hand spread across the breadth of her back, holding her steady.
She relaxed, supported by the strength of him. “No, thank you,” she managed at last. “Two fires are enough for me.”
She sounded tired inside and out. He rested his head against the solid trunk of the tree, conscious of her body molded to his own. His shirt was wet through and through from the exertion of putting out the fire, and he felt wetness seep through the back of her shirt too.
He inhaled, feeling a giddy sense of vitality seep back into his body. “If you don’t mind, ma’am, I believe I’ll soak awhile in the creek before retiring.”
She jerked her head up, looking into his face. “Kale Jarrett, don’t you even think of retiring before you eat the supper I worked all afternoon to prepare for you.”
Their gazes held while the meaning of her words registered simultaneously in both their brains. His lips descended quickly then, meeting hers.
His hand crept along her back, between her tired shoulder blades, up her neck, finally cupping her head at the nape of her neck, pressing her face closer, guiding her lips.
His moustache felt silky against her skin, his lips soft and slippery, like satin, as they stroked hers, gently yet fervently, igniting a fire in the pit of her stomach to rival the fire they had just extinguished on the hillside.
She responded eagerly, increasing his ardor and hers with her reciprocating passion. Her head swam and she pressed closer to him for support.
His heart pumped against her own. Tentatively her hand moved up his chest, paused over his heart, moved to his face. Her fingers traced the outline of his jaw, and she felt a tremor beneath his skin.
At first Kale only savored the sweetness of her lips, the slight scent of baking on her skin. She didn’t immediately open her lips to his quest, as though she didn’t grasp the meaning of his tongue against them. When she did so, this movement, too, was tentative, as if she hadn’t experienced such before.
That couldn’t be, of course, his mind registered. He pushed the thought aside and deepened his kiss, losing himself to the passion rising within him. When her hand crept up his chest and her fingers caressed his neck, then his jaw, it was more than he could take. His muscles quivered with the growing want of her, and he broke the kiss to stare into her innocent eyes.
Innocent? He studied her expression. After what he had learned today, she certainly wasn’t an innocent. Yet…
Abruptly she knew. As surely as if he had spoken the words, she knew what he was thinking. She withdrew from his embrace, her eyes holding his.
Her heart pounded faster now, not with passion for this man, but with shame. She broke their gaze and turned away. Looking down the hillside, she tried to steady her brain, to keep tears from spilling down her cheeks.
Kale watched her fumble with her skirts. Somehow, he wasn’t sure how, she had fastened them up to keep the bottom from dragging the ground. He grinned in spite of it all, seeing a couple of inches of pink calves exposed between the coarse lace of her pantaloons and the tops of her black shoes.
She shook out her skirts and let them fall to the ground. “Go ahead to the creek.” She spoke quickly without facing him. “I’ll warm supper. You won’t be long, the water’s too cold. Benjamin couldn’t—”
“Ellie.” Grabbing her arm, Kale turned her to face him. He caught and held her distraught gaze; the late afternoon sun reflected from the tears brimming in her eyes. Lordy, how he wanted her. Her past had nothing to do with it. Benjamin had known, and it hadn’t bothered him enough to keep him from marrying her. Surely it wouldn’t stand in the way of a little—
Damning his own wicked mind, Kale let go her arm. “Fine. I’ll take a minute to look around first, before the sun’s completely gone.”
Resolutely she started down the hill, but he called after her. “Tuck those damned skirts back up, Ellie. We don’t want them catching a stray spark.”
The fire had been set by two men, he discovered, like the fire the day before. They hadn’t even bothered to cover their tracks. Kale followed them to the hideout on the hill, knowing before he got there he would find it empty.
By this time dusk had settled over the valley, but he headed for the creek nonetheless, where he stripped and sank into the icy water, letting it ease the tension from his muscles and stir up the blood in his veins.
Somehow Ellie managed to get back to the house without falling flat on her face, although her legs trembled so badly she wasn’t sure how she made it down the hill. Stumbling into her familiar kitchen, she leaned against the doorjamb and let the squawking door welcome her back to her own world.
But would that world ever be the same again? The fear which had been growing inside her all day had sprung to life. He knew, and in knowing, he would reject her.
His kiss still sang on her lips with a poignancy that made her heart feel as though it were weeping. She rubbed the back of her neck where his hand had been. The spot still stung with his touch, still ached for it.
She sighed, tried to regain the resolve with which she had conquered other disappointments, and stoked up the fire in the fireplace.
She set the skillet over it and rose to fetch water from the well.
Yes, she had conquered disappointments before, but this one was different. This was one disappointment a determined mind would be hard pressed to drive away. This disappointment would likely haunt her to her dying day.
At the well, she hauled up the rope, filled her bucket, and turned to go back inside. Then she noticed his clothing still hanging on the fence.
He had gone to the creek without fresh clothing. What good was a bath, for heaven’s sake, without clean clothes?
Inside she set the bucket on the cabinet, surveying her kitchen like one set apart. She moved as through a dream, stirring the stew, testing the bread, setting the table. She looked at the pie in the window and wondered whether he would stay around long enough to even taste it.
Suddenly she felt herself perspiring as though she was still fighting the fire. Lifting her arm to wipe her face on her sleeve, she realized quite by surprise that instead of perspiration, she wiped away tears.
She was crying, for heaven’s sake. And her clothes smelled of smoke. Sadness like a heavy weight settled inside her, and she imagined herself smothering from the smoke in her dress.
/> She ran to the bedroom and began peeling off her clothing, desperate to breathe, to be free of the stifling smell of smoke.
He would leave now, she knew. He would leave before…
Her body dewy with the heated emotions swelling inside her, she threw open her wardrobe and stared at the bare interior.
He would leave, and she didn’t know what to do to stop him. What would Lavender do? Or the girls? She thought of Poppy—the first Poppy—and her lost love.
Her hand touched silk.
He would leave before…
The green silk kimono was embroidered in lavish shades of orange and red. Lavender had given it to her for her wedding night, but she had never had the courage to put it on her body.
He would leave.
No! He couldn’t. Not now. Not before…
Slipping into the silky garment, she belted it at the waist and rushed out the door barefoot. At the fence she grabbed up his clothes, and without pausing to consider what she would do next, she raced to the creek.
Dusk had enclosed the area in a dim circle of hazy light. Fireflies flitted to and fro like revelers at a celebration. Crickets chirped; a bullfrog karoomped from somewhere in the black water.
She skirted the stand of reeds and came to a halt beside the big old cottonwood tree. When her eyes adjusted to the dim light in the glade, she saw Kale, his back to her, lounging in the cool water, savoring it, the same way she had.
Suddenly she was very sorry she’d come out here this way. Awkwardly she knelt and set his clothing on the limestone slab where she often sat on warm days to dry in the sun before dressing after a bath.
“Ellie?” Turning, Kale squinted at her.
“I…ah, I washed today. I brought you some fresh clothing. And a towel to dry off with.”
“Thanks,” he mumbled, still squinting at her. Whatever it was she was wearing was bright green and glowed in the fading light of day. He watched her rise to her feet, then just stand there, looking down at him. The cold water rippled across his chest.
Still as death she stood, her arms limp at her sides. When she felt tears roll down her cheeks, she lifted a hand to wipe them away, but instead, her fingers found the sash and quite without thinking, she untied it and let the kimono fall open.
“Ellie?” Alarm rose inside Kale, echoed in his voice. He found his footing on the rocky bottom of the creekbed.
Seeing him move, she panicked. Quickly, before she could stop herself, she shrugged the kimono from her shoulders and let it fall to the ground around her feet.
“Ellie, my God! Put that back on!” While his mouth went dry and his brain riveted on the vision before him, he felt himself react to the situation at hand. Whatever had come over her? He leapt from the icy waters, reaching for her kimono.
“I know what you heard in town,” her voice rasped in a half-whisper.
He stood, kimono in hand, water running in rivulets from his body. Her words only half registered in his bewildered brain; his gaze took in her loveliness, all of it—her creamy skin, her firm, full breasts, her rounded hips and flat belly…
“I know what you’re thinking…” She left the words to hang between them in the stillness.
His eyes darted to hers. Their gazes held. He saw tears streaming down her face. His breath came in short, sharp gasps.
“Lordy, Ellie, you don’t have the faintest notion what I’m thinking.”
Reaching, he cupped her face, his thumb stemming the flow of tears. She covered his hand with hers.
At her touch he jumped as though she had scorched him with a hot coal. In that instant he realized that he stood before her stark naked, and if he hadn’t told her in words what he was thinking, the reaction of his body illustrated the point all too clearly.
Embarrassed, he thrust the kimono into her hands. “Get dressed.”
Turning away, he struggled into the breeches she’d placed on the rock. He called to her over his shoulder. “Go on back to the house, Ellie.”
She crumpled the green silk into a ball and rubbed her eyes with it. Why couldn’t she stop crying? “Are you…leaving?”
“Leaving?” He turned, buttoning the flap of his breeches as he did so.
His eyes searched hers; hers implored him. But what were they asking? He felt himself becoming more confused by the minute.
“Leaving?” He stared at her as she stood, still clutching the kimono in her fists, holding it to her breast now.
He approached her with hesitant steps. Slowly he reached out, took the kimono, and slipped it around her shoulders. Methodically he worked to get her arms through the openings, then he crossed the front panels over her breasts and tied the kimono securely in place with the sash.
Only then did he allow his trembling arms to pull her to his chest. He held her tightly against him, feeling the rigid tips of her nipples work into the mat of hair on his bare chest through the single layer of green silk. He heard her heartbeat in his ears, along with his own.
God, how he wanted this woman!
After a moment during which he could make no sense of the situation, he held her back and looked into her troubled eyes. At least she had stopped crying.
But when she spoke, her chin trembled. “Will you come to the house first?” Instead of tears falling from her eyes, her voice now cried, like a sad and lonesome wind sighing through the trees, loosening the last summer leaves from the branches, taking all the life, leaving it barren—barren as his soul felt looking into Ellie’s eyes, hearing the lonesome cry in her voice.
He swallowed the lump in his throat. Leaving? Where had she gotten such a cockeyed notion? Turning her toward the path, he nudged her in the direction of the house.
“I’m right behind you, Ellie…right behind you.”
She walked before him up the path. Her body swayed sensuously beneath the green silk, causing him to wonder what demon had taken hold of his senses.
She’d offered him her body, same as she must’ve done to many others before him. And he had all but refused. Why? He had thought of little else but taking this woman to bed since he’d first looked into her hazel eyes across the water trough. Now, given the chance, he’d reacted like a skittish virgin.
Ellie picked up her pace when they neared the house, and he found her still robed in the silk kimono, stretched the length of his bed. Her look of pure innocence added to his confusion.
The same way she must have affected countless others, he reminded himself once more. Desperately he tried to bring this encounter down to the level of the other nameless, faceless painted ladies he’d enjoyed in the past.
But the fact that she was his sister-in-law made a grave difference. He studied her closer, his heart beating out a rhythm at once ancient and new. What he saw on the bed before him was not a painted lady, however, nor even his own sister-in-law.
What he saw was Ellie, a woman who set his body ablaze. Nothing else had anything to do with anything. Not now, not at this moment, with her lips, soft and sensual, beckoning him. Not with that thin layer of green silk covering a soft woman’s flesh, flesh he had but glimpsed, yet burned to feel against his own.
Without removing his breeches he eased onto the bed beside her, stretching himself to his full length, supporting himself on one arm. He stared long into her face, and she into his.
All the way to the house Ellie chastised herself for the fool. What had she done this time? What was she about to do? By the time she reached the porch she had decided to go straight to her room and stay there until he left.
But then she heard his footsteps behind her. When she stepped inside the kitchen, she felt him take hold of the door. Crossing the room, she heard it squawk closed. His words rang in her ears: I’m right behind you, Ellie.
Quickly she slid onto his bed—to keep from crumpling to the floor, she assured herself. Her legs had never felt so useless. She held her body rigid and still, trying to quell its tremors.
She wasn’t at all sure what to expect. Yes, she had slept
with Benjamin, but she knew beyond a doubt that what she wanted, what she craved at this moment, what she saw smoldering in Kale Jarrett’s eyes, what she felt inside her own body was different, vastly different. She thought of the girls at the Lady Bug and wished she’d asked them more questions. Especially the first Poppy, who had fallen so in love with…
Ellie’s mouth fell open at the idea.
Love? She had loved Benjamin. But what she felt at this moment was different from anything she’d ever felt before. She stared at Kale through the shadows. Although she could see little, she could practically feel his desire, the heat boiling inside him, and this intimidated her, frightened her.
She felt herself on the precipice of one of the volcanoes she had read about, and as Kale approached the bed, she thought how the boiling lava was drawing ever nearer.
When he stretched beside her, her flesh tingled. Then he stared into her eyes, and she knew she was helpless to save herself.
With one hand he cupped her chin and drew her mouth to his. Their lips touched gently, the kiss began slowly, increasing in intensity with the increasingly fervent beat of her heart. She felt his tongue, hot and wet against her lips, and when she opened her mouth to him, she knew if she hadn’t been lying down she’d have swooned, so powerful was her reaction to his slow, seductive exploration.
His fingers left her face, traveled down her neck, and dipped inside the neckline of her kimono. Where his hand touched, her skin burned, and where it did not, her pores begged mercilessly for him.
Slipping the garment over one shoulder, he freed her breast, then covered it with his lips.
She clutched his head in her hands, pressing him to her, knowing this was what she had craved, satisfied…for a moment. Then, like a chain reaction, she felt the begging begin again, intensify to escalating heights, but lower now, much lower, deep inside her loins.
She nuzzled against him, trying to bring him nearer and nearer. Was this what Poppy had meant when she’d spoken of her lover’s lips lighting her soul?
Sweet Autumn Surrender Page 10
