by Anthology
Quickly he lit the lantern hanging beside the door, filling the front room and kitchen area with light. He moved around the sofa to the wood stacked beside the fireplace and soon had a blaze going.
Skirting the dining table, he noticed the hatbox was gone, the mistletoe cleaned up. He wondered if she’d thrown it away. Forcing the thought out of his mind, he turned to find her still standing where he’d left her, door wide-open. She huddled into her wool cape.
“Caroline?”
She blinked, tears welling in her eyes. She appeared wobbly. And pale.
Smith limped over to shut the door and draw her farther inside.
“Smith, he’s been on his own for almost two weeks! I know how alone he must feel.”
So did Smith. His whole prison time had been like that. And a good part of his recent return, too. He was glad to be home, grateful for his parents and sister, but there was a part of him that was empty and always would be because he no longer had Caroline.
Her hair slid around her shoulders like gold silk. She looked lost and sad. And so beautiful he had to clench his fists to keep from touching her. He needed to see her settled then get out of here.
Moving behind her, he removed her cape. Her soft vanilla fragrance slid into his lungs, tightening all the muscles in his body. He hung the garment on the peg beside the door then steered her to the sofa. When she sat and peeled off her gloves, he started to leave.
She buried her face in her hands and a quiet sob escaped.
Oh, hell. Smith wanted to reach for her, pull her into him, but he wasn’t strong enough to stop with that. Still, he couldn’t go yet.
He looked around the small kitchen area, wondering if there was any of his whiskey left. Before he’d left two years ago, she had finally agreed to let him keep a bottle at her house. He made his way over to the cupboard on the other side of the sink and went through the cabinet until he found the liquor.
He grabbed a delicate teacup from the top shelf then splashed some of the amber liquid in a cup and passed it to her. “This will help steady you.”
Her hands trembled as she took a tiny sip.
“Stop blaming yourself, Caroline.”
“I should’ve known, should’ve tried harder.”
“He hid it from me, too. The boy didn’t want anyone to know. He kept it from everyone.”
A tear slid down her cheek. “I just feel that I failed him.”
Smith felt that way about her right now. Every protective instinct he’d ever had surged to life. He wanted to stroke her cheek or gather her against him. But he no longer had the right to comfort her, to try to stop her tears. And he just couldn’t be this close to her without touching her.
Where was her damn fiancé?
She returned the empty cup to him.
“Better?” he asked tightly, trying to control the mix of resentment and the gut-deep need to make things better.
“Yes.” She still looked sad, but not distraught. “What can we do for William? I recall Helen saying once that they have no other family.”
“He can live at the Diamond J.”
“Or he could live with me.”
Smith wondered if her fiancé would be amenable to the idea. “That wouldn’t cause problems?”
She gave him a funny look. “No.”
Being near her, drawing in her feminine scent, chipped away at his resolve to keep a distance. He had to go. “We’ll figure something out.”
“I know. You always do.” She smiled, sending a bolt of heat right through him.
He walked haltingly to the door.
She blinked, her gaze following him. “Are you going?”
“Yes. Are you all right?”
She nodded.
Even though he hated the idea of another man being here with her, she shouldn’t be alone. Through clenched teeth, he asked, “Would you like me to send for your fiancé?”
“I don’t have a fiancé,” she said quietly, looking away.
He froze, making sure he understood her words. “What?”
“We ended things this morning after church.”
His heartbeat roared in his ears as he studied her over his shoulder. She was no longer engaged. She no longer belonged to another man.
The words snapped through his brain then...
She was his. His.
Caroline hadn’t asked him to stay, hadn’t said he figured into her decision to call off her engagement. Smith didn’t care.
Carefully he shut the door and made his way slowly back to the sofa, tugging off his gloves. He tossed them on the couch with his hat then shrugged out of his coat.
She stood, a question in her green eyes. Stepping around the sofa, he eased to a stop in front of her, close enough that her breasts touched his chest.
He slid a knuckle under her chin and tilted her face to his. Her eyes darkened as she looked up at him. “Things are over with him? Really over?”
“Yes.”
He started to ask why, but he didn’t care. At least not right now. What he wanted to know was—
His mouth came down on hers. She made a sound of surprise then melted into him. Her kiss was welcoming, as hungry as his.
Oh, yeah, this was what he wanted to know.
He curled her tight into him, buried his other hand in her hair. It felt like hot thick silk. She tasted of his whiskey and a dark sweetness. Warmth spread through his chest. For the first time since returning, Smith felt whole. Steady.
Gripping the front of his shirt, Caroline moaned.
Slowly he lifted his head, his breathing rough as he drew in her subtle scent. She was flushed, her eyes soft with desire.
She blinked up at him. “What are you doing?”
“What I’ve wanted to do every time I’ve seen you.”
He kissed her again, harder this time, demanding everything from her. Her arms curved around his nape then her fingers delved into his hair. He could feel every inch of her, from the press of her full breasts against him to the last button on her bodice that marked him right below the waist of his trousers.
Hard with need, he throbbed against her belly. The soft noise she made, the way she clutched him tighter, had his thoughts scattering.
With great effort, he drew back. Her pulse thrummed wildly in the hollow of her throat. He glided a thumb over her cheek, flushed a becoming pink.
“Smith,” she breathed, feeling outside herself.
His eyes glittered hotly. “I’m not leaving you again. Ever.”
Her heart ached. Oh, how she wished that could be.
Sliding both arms around her waist, he pulled her into him, flat up against his arousal. “If you don’t want me, tell me now.”
Not want him? She would always want him, but she could never have him, not for forever anyway.
She opened her mouth to say so. She knew she should send him on his way, but any ability she’d had to maintain a distance between them had weakened when he kissed her.
“I love you, Caroline. And I know you still love me.”
She did and she was so tired of pushing him away. She needed him. This man touched the heart of her like no other ever had or would.
He stroked a hand through her hair. “You belong to me and you know it. I should’ve made you mine before I left for that cattle sale two years ago.”
Caroline had always believed Smith would be her first, her only.
The small bit of resistance she had crumbled. She could have him for tonight. One memory to last a lifetime.
Her arms tightened around his neck.
“Caroline?” His voice was husky with desire.
She knew what he was asking and there was only one answer.
“Yes.” She cupped his cheek. “Yes, Smith.”
The hue of arousal deepened the bronze of his features. He scooped her up in his arms.
“Oh! Your leg. Should you be carrying me?”
“I want to. Besides, it isn’t far.” He moved haltingly to the bedroom, heat from th
e fireplace wafting around them.
Her skirts frothed over his arm. The warmth of his hand burned through her stockings where he held her, sparking a sudden impatience.
She wanted to feel his skin on hers now. He let her drift down his body, thumbing open the buttons on her bodice. She unlaced the leather strip that closed the placket of his black shirt, pushing the garment up and over his head.
Admiring the deep broad chest of burnished copper, she ran her hands over hard muscle and dark hair then down the well-hewn plane of his belly.
He backed her toward the bed as she unhooked her skirt. She slid the garment off with her petticoats then sat on the edge of the mattress. He palmed off her shoes and rolled down her stockings. After pulling the tapes on her drawers, she shimmied out of them. She shrugged out of her bodice, shivering when Smith scraped his teeth gently across the place where her shoulder met her neck and nipped her lightly.
She tugged at his waistband, watching as he toed off his boots and got rid of his socks. Her hand slid down his taut stomach and undid the top button of his pants, then the next.
He put a hand over hers. “Hold on.”
His eyes were hot with raw need, the same need that burned in her. Before she knew what he was about, he untied her chemise and whisked it over her head.
He stripped off his trousers and laid her back. His callused hands were on her breasts, his thumbs circling the hard nubs of her nipples. “You are somethin’.”
As his mouth closed over her taut flesh, she arched into the wet velvet heat, moving her hands to his hard shoulders.
She pushed at him until he rolled to his back.
He squeezed her waist. His muscles were coiled tight, his breathing labored. “What?”
“I want to see you.”
This night was all she would ever have of him. Of them. She wanted to remember everything.
Muscles drawn tight, he lay still as her gaze moved over him. The light spilling from the front room slid over his broad shoulders, the flat ridged belly, his manhood. A thrill rippled through her.
Her attention caught on his left thigh—powerful and well formed. Shifting so that the light from the front room fell over him, she looked at his injured limb. Less muscular than the other, it was scarred and crooked from his groin to his ankle.
Smith caressed her naked hip. “It didn’t heal right.”
She stroked his leg down to the knee. “Does it hurt?”
“Not unless I’ve done a lot of standing or walking.”
She knew he did plenty of that every day.
She bent to kiss his thigh, lightly smoothing her hand over the scarred flesh.
“Enough of that for now.” He pulled her up his body and rolled her under him. “You had your turn. Now I want mine.”
“You already had yours.”
“Not hardly.” He stared at her in arrested silence—every bit of her from her hair to her shoulders to the curve of her waist and the flare of her hips. “You are so beautiful.”
He kissed her mouth then her neck, moved his lips to the valley between her breasts.
She shifted restlessly, her smooth legs brushing his hair-dusted ones. “Smith.”
“Don’t hurry me. I’ve waited a long time to look at you.” He cupped her breasts then took her in his mouth. He lingered there until she squirmed, an unfamiliar tension coiling sharply inside her.
His lips glided over her ribs, causing her to wiggle. He nuzzled her belly then stopped altogether when he reached the scar. Several inches below her naval, the ugly furrowed mark stretched across the lower part of her stomach.
Feather-soft, his finger traced the puckered skin. “I’m sorry I wasn’t here for your appendix surgery.”
He brushed his lips across the spot. Once, twice.
Tears burned her eyes. She wanted to confess that the scar wasn’t from appendix surgery. She wanted to tell him why she wasn’t the same woman he had left behind, why she couldn’t be with him after tonight.
Instead she reached for him, stroking the supple skin of his back. “Kiss me.”
He did, sliding his work-roughened palm down her stomach then between her legs, easing a finger into her silky heat. He raised his head, watched her as he added another finger.
A sliver of moonlight flashed beneath the oilskin shade then disappeared. There was no mistaking the possessiveness in his face or the tenderness and desire.
“Smith,” she panted.
“Right here.” His thumb circled the sensitive knot of nerves at her center until her body went soft. She gave a small cry and her inner muscles tightened around him.
He levered himself between her legs, muscles tight as he eased his way slowly inside. The feel of his hot rigid flesh against her slick softness had her drawing in a deep breath. Moving her hands from the lean tautness of his hips and up his iron-hard arms, she kissed his chest, tasting his salty heat.
“Caroline?” he asked hoarsely.
“I’m fine.” She tightened her legs around him. “Don’t stop.”
He pushed inside. She didn’t care about the pain. In the amber lantern light, she could see his eyes blazing with such naked emotion that it brought tears to her eyes.
She tugged his head down for a kiss. He moved experimentally a couple of times and when she made a sound deep in her throat, his hips began to stroke hers. Steadily driving her up a dizzying peak, he laced their fingers together.
He slid deep, then rocked inside her in a slow, steady motion until she felt tiny urgent pulses inside her. When she let go, so did he.
She came back to herself to find him smiling down at her.
“Now you’re really mine,” he said softly. “Like you should’ve been all along.”
He rolled over, taking her with him.
They lay there as their pulses slowed, their skin damp and warm. Caroline stroked a finger over a scar on his rib then one in the middle of his breastbone. “How badly were you hurt?”
“Would’ve been killed if not for Gideon.”
“Your friend who arrived last night?”
“Yes.”
“Were you in a fight?”
“Yes, but not of my doing. I was attacked because I was the newest arrival.”
He really could’ve been dead, just as she had believed for almost two years. Caroline’s throat closed up and she held him tight.
Her legs tangled with his as she relaxed against him. She drank in every detail—his dark tousled hair, the lean taper of his torso, the solid sun-bronzed arms that held her close. She savored the feel of his hard lines against her body, knowing she would remember this every night for the rest of her life.
He dropped a kiss on her head. “Why did you break things off with Galloway?”
She stiffened, but he only held her tighter. She knew she had to answer. “I don’t love him the way I should.”
“What do you mean? You don’t love him at all?”
She inwardly winced at the hope in Smith’s voice. “I don’t love him as much as he loves me. He deserves someone who feels the same about him as he does about them.”
She knew Smith expected her to say that she had ended things with the other man because she still loved Smith, but she couldn’t say that.
Smith nuzzled her temple, stroking her bare shoulder as he said drowsily, “This is how things were meant to be.”
Soon, the slow evenness of his breathing told her he was asleep. Caroline knew he believed they were together once again, but they weren’t. They could never be.
And she was going to have to tell him.
* * *
A chill in the air woke Smith the next morning. Judging from the grayish-pink light peeking under the oilskin shade, it was barely dawn. Christmas Eve.
He had dreaded this Christmas Eve, just as much as he had the ones he’d spent in prison, because he believed he wouldn’t be spending it with Caroline. Now things were different.
They’d be spending this Christmas Eve—and every Christmas
Eve for the rest of their lives—together. Which meant he had better get more mistletoe.
Grinning, he slid out of bed and stoked the dying fire in the front room then added more wood before climbing back beneath the covers with Caroline.
He pulled her tight into him, sliding a hand to her breast and enjoying the feel of her bare silky flesh. Her hair fell in a golden tumble over her shoulders. Burying his face in her neck, he inhaled her sweet womanly scent. He could tell by her sudden stillness that she was awake.
“Merry Christmas Eve,” he whispered.
“Merry Christmas Eve.”
He brushed a kiss across her shoulder. When she pulled away slightly, Smith frowned. “What’s wrong? Are you worried about William? He’s probably still asleep.”
“We should get up anyway.”
He tickled her ear with his tongue. “I thought we could talk about getting married.”
She gathered the top quilt around her and slid out of bed.
Smith levered up on his elbows, watching as she slipped on her pale blue flannel wrapper. “It would be great if we could get hitched while my sister’s here. She could stand up with you.”
“We can’t.”
“Why? Not enough time to plan what you want?” He swung his feet to the frigid floor and yanked on his pants then bent to pull on his socks.
Caroline had put on a pair of socks, too, probably her father’s. Now she stood at the foot of the bed, looking as if she were bracing herself for something.
He went to her. “Caroline?”
She swallowed. “I haven’t changed my mind about marrying you.”
He barked out a laugh. “If that were true, you wouldn’t have let me into your bed.”
She turned away as if she couldn’t bear to look at him. “That was goodbye.”
“It damn sure wasn’t!” He fought to stay calm, to figure out why she was saying these things. “Your chance to get rid of me was last night before we made love.”
“I wanted you. I needed you, but...I can’t marry you.”
He snagged her wrist, his heart squeezing painfully when she pulled away. “If you say you don’t love me, I’ll know it’s a lie.”
“Last night is all we can have.”
“Maybe not all.” Smith shoved a hand through his hair, frustration clawing at him. “What if we made a baby?”
