He lifted out a memory box. Bits and pieces of hope were encased under glass. Matt never noticed that the hunter-green background and the display case of dark wood nearly matched his eyes. All he noticed was how intimately she knew him, to have created such a gift. All he could see were chips and moments of a life centered around the land.
Turquoise gleamed in a shard of Cherokee inlay pottery, next to a single spur that had once belonged to the first Matthew Ransom. Gannie’s little “lady” knife rested near a battered brass matchbox and a French coin from the turn of the century. Each item, each treasure was something the young Matt had found at Gledhill. All represented a time before his pride had distorted his perceptions.
The center of the box held a photograph of Gannie and Matt out back by the old barn. In the background, Ransom land stretched past the fence separating it from Gledhill. He’d never seen the photograph before.
“You took this just before we broke up,” he said, his voice husky. Neither of them chose to dwell on the fact that “break up” didn’t quite describe what had actually happened between them.
“Just before,” she replied on a slow, shaky breath. “I don’t have anything else for you, Matt. You don’t need another cell phone. You never use your fancy pocket organizer, and I can’t afford to buy you a horse. I was unprepared for diamonds and emeralds,” Perri added, “and I can’t compete with that anyway. So, you only get something you’ve never known you didn’t have. Those are just little bits of things that once meant something to you. Everything else is yours by right anyway.”
Her honesty and ease nearly destroyed him. He vowed in that moment to use the memory box not just as a container for mementos of a less-complicated time. He would cherish it as a reminder to keep things simple in the present. Carefully, he stood the box upon the chest and against the wall. Turning, he moved to the bed to sit beside her.
“Thank you,” he said, holding her close and breathing in the scent of her hair. They sat wrapped in the silence for long moments. “If your father decides to come out here from Raleigh and shoot me, please see that I’m buried with it.”
Perri laughed happily and hugged him back. “Thank you for giving me back something that was missing,” he said humbly.
Matt lightly kissed her brow, slowly running his hot, callused palm up her shin to her knee, then up the back of her thigh. It was a while before he finally spoke. “I’m so sorry for my behavior that night.” He didn’t have to clarify which night he was talking about.
Knowing he meant it allowed her to let go of some of the pain. The events of that night had forever changed him as much as they had changed her. Perri understood that young Matt Ransom would have been honor bound to believe his mother. Just as this man was now honor bound to stay with the land; to make the best with her, because of the baby.
The heat of him scorched her as she nestled in his arms. His hand all but burned her thigh. “It’s all in the past, Matt,” she said. “We were both so young.” Perri smiled at the thought of just how young they had been. “Actually, I’m—”
“I know,” he interrupted, “I changed your life for the better. Thanks to me, you got out—you saw more of the world.” Matt abruptly cupped her shoulders. “But I hurt you. I was intentionally cruel,” he declared. The breath was freezing in his chest. He didn’t permit her to disengage from the embrace.
She could feel the relief he didn’t try to disguise when she quit struggling. Tenderness seemed so difficult for him now. It had, at one time, been so natural. Now Matt could touch the softer emotions only briefly. For now, it was enough.
Perri could read the desire and intent in his eyes and her body ached for him. They had been sleeping alone for too long. He looked like a man who felt he had every right to the woman lying on his bed. She reached up to smooth his cheek.
Matt’s hands slowly moved down her arms. He then took the reading material from her and carefully stowed everything on the floor by the nightstand. He turned off the lamp by the bed and reached for her.
Slowly he rubbed a callused thumb over the satiny skin of her inner wrist, feeling the vein throb as her pulse rapidly accelerated. He seemed intent on absorbing the life energy so apparent within the baby-smooth skin.
Carefully, watching her all the while, he brought her wrist to his lips. His teeth nibbled briefly before she felt his tongue lazily stroke her skin in an openmouthed kiss. Matt’s mouth had always been a dilemma for her. It was too full and sweet; too dangerous in a face of such hard angles. He used it now to devastating effect, rubbing his lips and tongue over her. He tasted her skin, inhaled her scent, as her pulse hastened enough to curl her toward him.
She could smell sunshine and wind on him. The blood was moving heavily through her, as she struggled to breathe. Perri felt grateful she was sitting down. He made her too weak to fight the slow, burning sensations that pierced through her.
His dark eyes finally lifted to hers. “Will you let me love you, Perri?” Matt rubbed her other wrist against the hollow under one razor-sharp cheekbone. It sent sparks all the way to her center. “Will you stay with me?” he asked softly, reading the answer in her eyes.
Skillful hands moved to deal with her silky floor-length dress. Slowly he unbuttoned each button, skimming his fingers over each newly revealed part of her. He gathered the bottom of the baggy dress, pulling the full skirt up in bunches to trap her wrists in the satiny fabric. Smiling, his mouth moved back and forth between her exposed breasts, bringing each nipple to a hard, achy pearl. “Will you let me fill you?” he asked in a husky voice.
Matt took the way her body arched as her reply and began a deliberate exploration of her mouth with his tongue. His hands released her wrists in order to slowly tease her panties down her legs. Then a big, warm palm claimed her stomach.
Matt paused to study her. He seemed determined to memorize her body; tracing her belly as if to track each change the baby would soon bring about. Long, callused fingers moved down between her open thighs to linger inside her wet, velvet folds.
Her broken, honest little moan was all the reminder he needed that the day had been one for making repairs. Matt teased and stroked her until Perri writhed in the sensual embrace.
When he withdrew from the kiss and from her body to press moistened fingers to his own lips, she could only moan in protest. Perri moved restlessly beneath him, frantic to unbutton his jeans. “Yes, Matt, please fill me,” she pleaded. “I feel so empty.”
Those were the words he’d been waiting to hear.
It had rained during the night. Sultry and sweet, was his first thought upon waking to the light of early morning. The thought applied to both the morning and the woman, he reflected sleepily. Eyes still closed, Matt’s hand moved over Perri as he curled her closer to him. She loved him, he thought, his lips lingering at the back of her neck.
Still asleep, Perri arched her hips into him ever so slightly. The movement was enough. Matt gently moved her onto her back and rubbed his stubbled cheek over her breasts, his straining erection stabbing against her thigh.
Half asleep, half awake, Perri reached for him on a moan of blatant desire. Deeply touched that she would want him even in her sleep, Matt found her hot, wet and as ready as he. Smiling, his mouth conquered one budding nipple, then the other.
He acknowledged a longing, a thought, a hope as sweet as the morning. He vowed to work to turn the present, founded upon mutual duty and physical hunger, into something deeper through what they had shared in the past. Maybe that would be enough, he reflected, even if he left his heart out of it. Then further thought became impossible.
The lazy morning mood flashed into one of urgent demand. One moment she was asleep. The next instant, Perri awakened with a desperate need for the man whose clever hands and mouth were teasing her so close to sweet release. Desire rocketed through her. She voiced his name, demanding he settle between her thighs.
Her nails scored his back as he drove into her. Perri cried out, writhing beneath him
, instinctively wrapping herself around his waist. A sizzling orgasm had her lifting her hips to take him even deeper.
Matt remained still and contained as long as possible to watch her. To feel her ripple around him. She had never been so dazzling, so wanton, so consumed in the pleasure. He held out, watching her come apart beneath him, until he too lost himself in the moment. It was hot and fast and hard on both of them. The heat flared to bursting and beyond before Perri fully opened her eyes.
They lay still and silent; both aware that he hadn’t given her an opportunity to decline. Both were aware she hadn’t wished for one. Matt finally raised himself up to look at her. The brown flecks in Perri’s eyes glowed like warm honey, making him smile. He had needed her here, in his bed; needed her for his souL “Good morning,” he said with a grin. Keeping her with him, he rolled onto his back.
Unable to let her go, Matt’s hand fisted in her hair. It didn’t need voicing that if Perri tried to move away from him, he wouldn’t let her. Deliciously spent and at peace, one broad hand slowly molded her seemingly boneless body even more closely to his own.
Perri dug her nails none too gently into his biceps and arched her back. His laugh was soft with understanding, his hand curving quickly and possesively around her bottom. “You’re where you belong,” he stated, touching her intimately. “You’re mine. Say it.” Her body responded even as she remained silent. The lack of immediate reply didn’t bother him in the least. It was only a matter of time.
“You’re going to say it, Perri,” Matt declared as he continued to caress her. “You were always mine.” His tone gentled as he remembered how hard he had pushed her, and how fast, to get her to this moment. And just how much he, too, belonged in her arms.
He really did want to give her romance, he mused as his other hand played lightly between her shoulder blades. He just didn’t think he knew how to go about such a thing anymore. And the woman knew him too well for him to fake it. The thought sobered him slightly.
Matt was willing to learn just about anything, but this wouldn’t come easily. And so for now, emeralds, diamonds and an old locket would have to do in place of a heart. He steadied himself in the knowledge that Perri would understand. She loved him. But jewelry wouldn’t mean as much to her as an effort of love.
“Hon, we need to get to know each other, don’t you think?” he asked. Exasperated, he pulled her head around to where he could look deeply into sleepy eyes. “Will you please say something,” he demanded. “Hello?”
She shook her head, trying to catch up. It was just like him; she could register that much. To touch her all the way to her soul, and annoy the daylights out of her at the very same time, was just so typical. How the man expected her to speak, much less think, after bringing her out of sleep in such a devastating manner was beyond her.
“I’m just not a morning person, Ransom,” she managed to croak out before dropping her forehead onto his chest. His answering chuckle rumbled hatefully against her poor, unusable brains.
“Okay, sweetheart,” he answered in reply to her groan. “You just lie here and think about our spending some time together. Give some thought to a short trip, a getaway. We need some time,” Matt repeated. “Time away.” From the past, he reflected.
“And I need time to look at you,” he said as he gently shifted her to his side. “I need time to tell you how beautiful you are. I haven’t told you enough how beautiful I find you.” The realization sobered him. “I care for you, Perri.” Well, that earned him a sleepy, puzzled look. “I haven’t told you because I can’t tell you more,” he qualified. “And you deserve more.
“So think of a place you want to go,” he added. “Someplace sort of close. Not Fiji.” She smacked lamely at him for that. He ignored her, considering. “Maybe Mexico, somewhere on the Gulf. You let me know what you want to do and we’ll take a few days away. Hell, we’ll try for a week, okay? Think about it,” he repeated as he rolled out of bed to start the day.
Matt turned back to smile at her and paused. She took his breath away. He stood silent and thoughtful over her, the look on his face a possessive one.
“Is that an order?” Perri inquired. Fussy from lack of sleep, she wasn’t so out of it not to notice that he hadn’t once used the word “honeymoon” to describe the trip. Fiji would be a honeymoon. Something like that would take planning and care. Grumpily, she made an attempt to gather the sheet around her.
Matt knelt on the bed and quickly stopped her hand. He had deliberately kept her up all night, as if sleep brought too much of a separation. As if she could be lured away from him by her dreams. Now he kept her still.
“Don’t,” he appealed as she began to struggle. “I need to look at you, Perri. I need to know you’re real.” He traced the line of her back as she rolled over in an effort to cover herself. His hand continued its possessive course over each exposed part of her.
By the time he gathered her to him, she was breathless and shivering once again. Perri surrendered as Matt buried his face in her hair. In that one moment, he made her feel cherished. No one had ever made her feel that way but Matt Ransom.
All the things he couldn’t quite say shimmered just out of his reach.
Seven
The rain gauge outside their bedroom window registered a quarter of an inch. Checking the sky, Perri vigorously toweled-dried her hair. The rosy sun had a welcome backdrop of dark clouds. And the warm, moist air offered hope that today, someone would get rain. She quickly headed downstairs to set the sprinklers in the front to working. Clearly, it was an ideal morning to water.
I love him, she thought. Yet why she had mentioned it was beyond her. Revealing to Matt that she still loved him wasn’t something Perri had meant to do. She was an idiot to have flat-out said it.
The words had just come out of her and felt right at the time. Maybe it had been the headache talking; but her heart knew it was right. She headed around to the back and uncoiled the hose all the while rerunning the exchange in her mind.
Matt had seemed to need to hear the words. She didn’t pause to reflect upon what it would have meant had he seen fit to say them in response. Instead, she continued with the task at hand. The raw, bitter harm of loving a man who didn’t love her was a pain she couldn’t delve into. For now, such reflection was obviously a waste of time. He was hell-bent on maintaining the notion that loving was beyond his range.
As Perri set about tending the backyard, it occurred to her that there might be a chance to make this work. There had to be a way to maintain some dignity if she could look beyond her pride. She knew how to adjust. She’d made a life out of adjusting to whatever “stew” of circumstances she had been served by chance. For after losing Matt Ransom, there had been nothing but chance for Perri Stone.
Make the best, she thought, pausing by the back door to watch some monarch butterflies dance. She couldn’t let it matter who did or did not love. For a time this morning, he had been so sweet and loving toward her. She had been awakened needing the feel, the rich taste, the scent and the glorious heat of him. And remembering what they had once had together, she had freely given herself.
But Perri understood it meant nothing just because he had momentarily disarmed her with sweetness. He’d been sweet before. It seemed clear that Matt offered her sweet moments as a substitute for love. In frustration, Perri ran her fingers through her still-wet hair and carried on.
Rotating the sprinklers, she breathed in the day. It was a stunningly beautiful morning, and that lovely smell of sun on damp soil and grass filled her with peace. A day like this made it all worthwhile.
The summer heat of Oklahoma wasn’t bothering her all that much. She’d adjusted easily to temperatures of over a hundred degrees. And she surely did not miss the humidity levels of New York City, where summer bounced and writhed right off the concrete.
Perri looked up through the branches of the pecan tree to the second-story windows of the back bedroom. Neither she nor Matt had remembered to shut them last
night. It was such a pleasant little room, with a lovely view out the back. She smiled at the sight of lace curtains stirred by the breeze. Now that she shared his bed, the little room needed to be used for something special, to take advantage of the view. Maybe she could make it into her office.
A nursery, of course, she realized. Perri shook her head at the obvious and in the process, noticed that the birdbath was filled with leaves from the pecan trees. She moved automatically to clean it. What had happened to her brains? Too much, too soon, she thought as she rinsed it out. She had a house to arrange for a baby, for a little family. A house that, at present, resembled a repository for local history.
Just the other day, Perri had found a foot-long, jeweled hat pin from the turn of the century. It had lived in the vanity of the back bedroom for who knew how long. At least a century old, the hat pin was completely useless. But she couldn’t bear to get rid of it. And it was just one example of the kind of things she was discovering in closets and on shelves at every turn.
The immediate, the necessary objects or clothes for daily life weren’t all that Gannie had kept close at hand. She had truly kept the past wrapped around her. Perri knew she should call the ladies of the Spirit Valley Historical Society about just such items. They’d be itching to go through the place now that the funeral was decently past.
“Oh my nerves,” Perri groaned as she moved to turn off the hose and the sprinklers. The two of them had gone for her doctor’s appointment yesterday, so half the county knew all about it by now. And that was a conservative estimate. Matt hadn’t even tried to remain discreet.
She had to get the place in order. Neighbors had been remarkably hesitant to drop by, in view of everything that had happened. Like a funeral, an eccentric will and a hastily arranged wedding, she thought dryly. All she needed was for the church ladies and the historical society—which she acknowledged were pretty much one and the same—to descend before she got Gledhill ready for guests.
The Bridal Promise Page 12
