by Carol Arens
When she gazed at him with a question in her eyes, he pushed her backward in the chair with a kiss. Now that he was free to do it, he couldn’t seem to quit tasting her.
The wooden button at the neckline of the ugly dress fought his effort to pop it open so he ripped the fabric down the front. It gave with a hiss.
Holly Jane stood up so he wriggled it down her hips then tossed it away...somewhere.
He pressed her shoulders down until she plunked back on the chair.
The water in the basin had cooled so he dumped it out the back door of the caboose. Full dark had settled and clouds hung close to the earth. It smelled like rain.
Back inside, he filled the basin with the warm water simmering on the stove.
He settled back in the chair across from her and dipped the cloth in the soapy water. The scent of flowers filled the caboose when he wrung it out.
There was a smear of grime on her shoulder. He drew the cloth across her skin, erasing it and leaving the fresh floral scent behind. Slowly, he stroked down her arm wiping away the Broken Brand and leaving behind sweet pink flesh.
When he finished, he gave the same unhurried treatment to her other arm.
“I’m going to enjoy marriage.” She closed her eyes and sighed deeply. He felt her go limp under his fingertips. “I like it when you touch me.”
“So do I.”
What he was going to enjoy, was demonstrating just how pleasurable their marriage bed would be.
“What do you say we begin enjoying it tonight?” He slipped a lacy strap from her shoulder. It dragged the fabric down, exposing the upper swell of one tempting, fair-skinned breast.
He couldn’t see them yet, but he knew her nipples were pink. Every day since the ride on the elephant, he’d pictured them in his mind, how they matched the blush in her cheeks.
“I say yes.” She flicked the other strap off her shoulder and the shift sagged, teasing him while it hung a hair above those pretty buds. If he blew on it, it would fall. “But first I need more soap and water.”
He grinned, and she touched his face, tracing the shape of his jaw, then his cheek and his mouth.
Water sloshed in the basin when he rinsed the cloth. A sudden gust of rain pelted the windows. The car rocked slightly in the wind while the clack of the wheels on the track carried the train into the storm.
Colt squeezed the rag then drew it across her chest. A drop of water pearled on her skin then dripped around the inner curve of her breast, vanishing under the lacy edge of the shift.
While he swished the cloth in the water, he gave the shift a tug. It tumbled to her waist. His heart surged into his throat.
He sat for a moment, simply staring at her chest. It was full and lovely, her breasts pink-tipped just like they had been in his lusty fantasies.
Lifting the cloth from the water, he washed her, one smooth ivory globe then the other. He dropped the towel in the water and lathered his hands with soap.
He cupped both of her breasts, one in each palm, rolling and feeling the slick, plump weight slide against his fingers.
While he watched, the blushed tips twisted with little soap bubbles dotting them.
Holly Jane’s breath became shallow and quick. She whispered his name.
All of a sudden he wanted to be finished with the bath, to tumble her down onto the bed. He took a deep shuddering breath to make himself slow down.
Things were different now that she was his promised woman, nearly his wife.
The coach would not stop until tomorrow, and Holly Jane was his for a lifetime. Rushing this moment would be a crime.
* * *
She hadn’t known, couldn’t have guessed, how this moment would be. How it would consume her world until the only thing that mattered was the feel of Colt’s hands on her, the sound of his ragged breathing less than an arm’s stretch away.
Before, on the carousel, the moment had been intense...arousing, but she hadn’t belonged to him then.
Tonight she was free to give herself over to him in every way that a woman could. From this night onward their lives were joined, even though the preacher had yet to give their union the proper words.
Colt rinsed her breasts with fresh water...then with his mouth.
She leaned into him, aching under the suckle of lips and the nip of teeth. Just when she thought she might ooze into a puddle of mush, he backed away.
She opened her eyes and saw him standing over her. He lifted her up then slid her damp underclothes down her hips. She stepped out of them and kicked them away.
He knelt in front of her and washed her leg, stroking her outer thigh then her calf, ankle and foot. He did the same to her other leg.
Drat, her skin was nearly spotless but she was not ready to be finished with his tender, cleansing touch.
Still, there were a few spots he had missed. He stood up and turned her around then washed her back with soapy hands. She gripped the back of the chair, squeezing when he slid his hands around the front and rubbed her belly.
His hands dipped low, circling toward her most feminine spot. She began to tremble. He let go of her, but only for a second. Beginning at her knees he stroked upward, once again circling toward the most intimate place. She could hardly breathe; she wanted him to touch her there that badly.
With her eyes closed she heard him stir the water in the basin. Finally, he stroked her with the cloth, its coarse surface circling waves of pleasure on her sensitive flesh.
Increasingly intense waves of need washed through her. She gripped the back of the chair, holding on to the only solid thing in a dissolving world.
Colt scooped her up. “Are you happy, Holly Jane? Do I please you?”
* * *
His bride-to-be smelled like springtime smack in the middle of a fall storm. Sleet smeared the caboose windows and wind howled over and under the moving car.
“You please me, Colt.”
Relief eased the band that had cramped his heart. In the past, a woman’s approval was something that he had taken for granted. He knew the moves and performed them, a dance that resulted in shallow pleasure every time.
Touching Holly Jane meant something. She was his to love and protect. What she thought of him meant more than anything ever had.
He carried her to the bed and set her on a puffy down quilt. She sank into it, looking like a flesh-and-blood angel reclining on a white cloud.
“Hope you don’t mind a man who smells like a bouquet,” he said, glancing back at her over his shoulder while he crossed to the basin.
He stripped off his clothes in a hurry. He didn’t want to take the time to wash, not when she was impatient and ready for him, but he did stink. Better to smell like a blossom than a cow pie.
Holly Jane knelt on the bed, watching him.
“Let me wash you,” she murmured. “It’s a fair turnaround.”
He shook his head, scrubbing brisk and fast. He was so hard, so ready, that if she touched him the way he had done to her, he would never make it.
Something ought to be said at a moment as big as this one, but he walked toward the bed with his mouth as dry as a thistle and his head empty of pretty words.
Kneeling on the bed with her shapely bare legs tucked under her, she was more beautiful than a dream. That’s what he’d like to tell her. Couldn’t, though. When she lifted her arms to him, her breasts jiggled with the movement of the caboose.
The wonder was that he didn’t leap upon her like a wild man. No woman had ever made him feel like a savage.
It was a good feeling, but one to be controlled...for the moment, at least.
The mattress sank under the weight of his knees. He crawled to the middle of the bed to where his woman knelt, reaching for him. He pulled her close and wrapped his arms around the smooth skin of her back. The
calluses on his hands seemed all the rougher when he slid them over her silky bottom and squeezed.
A purr murmured from her throat. He pressed his mouth against the spot and feasted on the patter of her pulse against his tongue.
He answered her with the growl that he had been holding back. A shiver raced over her skin; he felt the quiver of it under his fingertips.
Bosom to chest, her heat pressed against him. He began to sweat where the plush circles of her breasts slid against him. He burned up when she nuzzled her hips against his shaft.
Easy and slow, he chanted in his mind, slow and easy.
All of a sudden Holly Jane yanked his shoulders and tumbled him down on top of her. The bedsprings bounced with a creak and twang.
“Don’t treat me like a virgin, Colt.” Her breath feathered his lips. “Treat me like a woman.”
“You are a virgin?” He wouldn’t judge her if she weren’t, but hell and damn, he didn’t want to share her with anyone past or future.
“Of course, but I’m your virgin.” She touched his hair then trailed her hand to stroke his cheek then his lips. “I want the real you to make love to me, not a restrained version of you.”
“You asked for it, Sunshine.”
With a gentle nip to her belly, he proceeded to taste, pet, fondle and nibble every line and curve of her flesh. He suckled her throat, her breasts and her steamy hot crease.
When he knew she was past ready, he drove into her hard and fast because that is what she demanded of him. She wrapped her legs about his hips, drawing him deeper. She clutched his buttocks in her hands and urged his pace to be fast and hard.
When she shattered, convulsing around him, he arched into her and gave himself up.
He lay on top of her, his limbs tangled in hers, listening to her winded breathing while trying to catch his own.
For a moment he wondered who had been the virgin. Sex had never been so all-consuming.
It didn’t take much thinking to know why. The old ladies had been right from the very first day. Holly Jane was his one, from this day forward. No words before a preacher could make their union more blessed.
Which didn’t mean that the preacher’s blessing was not important. He intended to give Holly Jane the vows just as soon as they collected Grannie and Aunt Tillie from the hotel.
Chapter Fifteen
There was more to Colt Wesson than hard, driving love. During the wee hours of the morning there had been slow, sweet times when he stroked in and out of her as gently as a lapping tide.
Once, he had taken an hour to woo her with languorous kisses and slow simmering petting over every inch of her body. In the end it had turned explosive and left her drained and tingling.
She snuggled against his big bold side, listening to the rain pour down on the coach roof. Half dozing, she watched the drops race across the glass in a smear. Dawn couldn’t be far off. The clouds were beginning to lighten.
“You awake, Sunshine?” Colt stroked her head then twined his fingers through the length of her hair.
“More or less,” she admitted with a yawn.
“You aren’t marrying me for the ranch, are you?”
She eased up onto her elbow and gazed down into his face. The shadow of a frown line crossed his brow.
“No, Colt.” She smoothed the lines with her fingertips. “You aren’t marrying me so I can’t take it back, are you?”
“You found me out.”
She laughed and tickled his face with the ends of her hair. “The second time I saw you, when you were still a stranger leaning over my bed, I suspected you could be my one.”
“Grannie said something of the same to me the day before. I reckon when Aunt Tillie agreed, I ought to have paid them more mind.”
“Well, it took the pair of us a mite longer to sort through the doubts, but here we are.”
“The minute we get home,” He stroked his hand over the curve of her hip. “What do you say we pick up Grannie and Aunt Tillie and head straight for the preacher? I’m done with cold nights in the barn.”
“The sooner we produce little Emily, the happier they will be.”
“Not just them, Holly Jane—me, too.” He tickled his fingers over her belly. “Ponies aren’t the only thing I want galloping over our ranch.”
He flipped her over and rolled on top of her. Hard, lean muscles pressed her into the mattress. “All this activity has worked up my appetite. The train makes a stop in an hour or so—what do you say we get off and hunt up some breakfast?”
“I say I’ll never get dressed again if it means putting on Edith’s dress.”
“Never?” He tickled her ribs then stopped to kiss each of her breasts when they jiggled with her laughter.
With a wink he eased off her then got out of bed.
He went to the small table beside the window and picked up the pair of packages he had left there.
The train whistle blew. That must mean they were passing a town. She had learned that much about rail travel during the night.
“Wait!” She raised her hand, palm forward.
“What? A mouse run across the floor, Sunshine?”
“No, I want to look at you is all.”
That dimpled grin would intrigue her for the rest of her life. He turned his naked body this way and that. Muscles shifted under skin kissed golden by the flickering lamplight.
She was hungry...very hungry. She wouldn’t even have to put on a stitch to appease her appetite.
Colt plopped his handsome body down on the bed.
“Here’s something to keep you decent.”
She reached for the largest of the paper-wrapped packages.
“This first.” He handed her the smaller one.
She ripped the paper and a froth of lace undergarments fell out. An ivory-colored shift came open in her lap. Glittering up from the folds was a delicate gold band engraved with an etching of the sun and a small ruby at the heart of it.
He picked it up and slid it on her finger. It winked and sparkled.
“No going back now, Sunshine. You’re mine, good and claimed.”
“It’s so beautiful!” She held it to the lamplight to watch it shine. “How on earth?”
“While Lamont ran around taking care of everything else, I went shopping.”
“I could go my whole life wearing just this.” She pressed the gold close to her heart. “But think of the scandal it would cause. Friendship Springs might never recover.”
“I reckon you should open the other package.”
In that one there was a yellow skirt and a blouse that looked like a spring bouquet...also a coat that would be warm and snug.
She planted a kiss on his mouth then scrambled off the bed.
“I can’t get used to kissing you whenever I feel like it.” It gave her the most wonderful sense of belonging.
Gathering up Edith’s rag from the corner where Colt had tossed it, she marched to the stove, opened the door and shoved it in.
“There goes the last of the Broken Brand,” he said, grinning.
“I love you, Colt.” She adored her brand-new intended so completely that she was about to burst with the joy of it. How odd that a tear stung her eye. She dashed it away with the back of her hand.
The breakfast stop wouldn’t be for an hour or more. She launched herself at the bed right into Colt’s open arms.
* * *
It was good to be home. Holly Jane rode into town on Molly’s back feeling the peace, the tranquillity of being in the place she loved.
Riding beside her on Silver, Colt leaned over and whispered something inappropriate and delightful in her ear.
“What do you say, Sunshine? Let’s wait to pick up Grannie and Aunt Tillie from the hotel until the morn
ing...give ourselves one more night.”
“That would be wonderful.” She wanted nothing more than to urge Molly to gallop all the way to the ranch then race Colt up the stairs and into the bedroom. “And very selfish.”
“I reckon you’re right. They’ll be worried about you.”
“No more than they are about you.”
Holly Jane sat tall in Molly’s saddle, glancing at the homes along Main Street. Butcher trotted in front of the horses, wagging his big hairy tail.
The dog didn’t appear to miss his old home. He bounded along like nothing was wrong.
“Something is wrong.” She turned to stare at Colt, the first fingers of apprehension knotting her belly. “Where is everyone?”
Typically, the hour before sunset found neighbors on porches, visiting and chatting over their day. They might bundle up because it was November, but in Friendship Springs, visiting was an evening ritual.
“It’s clear as a bell outside, so why do you suppose the storm shutters are closed on every house?” she asked.
“Stay close.” Colt clicked his tongue. Silver picked up his pace.
Every shop in Town Square was shuttered and closed. Reining the horses in front of the hotel, Colt slid from Silver’s saddle.
There was a note tacked to the front door. He took the steps up two at a time. After he read it he turned toward her, his face grim.
“Closed for business.” He mounted Silver. “We’d best get home.”
It didn’t take long. The horses pounded the wooded trail like a bag of golden oats waited for them at the end.
“Grannie!” he bellowed, crossing the bridge. “Aunt Tillie!”
He leaped from the saddle and let the horse find its way to the corral while he ran up the stairs.
The front door opened before he reached it. Lamplight spilled into the dusk.
The old ladies stepped out and Colt wrapped them up in a great hug, Grannie Rose in one arm and Aunt Tillie in the other.
“You two all right?” He kissed one wrinkled cheek then the other. “What’s going on in town?”
Holly Jane dismounted Molly, who followed Silver to the corral.
“The Broadhowers think that the Folsoms kidnapped Holly Jane. And the Folsoms think that the Broadhowers did it.” Aunt Tillie broke from Colt’s embrace to hug Holly Jane. “Of course, we knew better. We are so glad that you are both home safe and sound.”
