Ruth Langan

by The Courtship Of Izzy Mccree

  “This?” He touched his mouth to hers, all the while watching her eyes. They widened, then fluttered closed.

  On a moan she lowered her arms and clung to his waist. Her fingers encountered bare flesh, and she experienced another thrill.

  It felt so good to touch him. To feel his strong, solid flesh beneath her hand. And the feel of his mouth on hers, that strong, clever mouth that made her pulse pound and her breath back up in her throat.

  Was this wrong? But how could that be? They were husband and wife. Surely this was not what Mrs. Hastings had meant when she’d demanded a vow of virtue.

  Matt came up for air and heard her sigh of frustration. “More?”

  She smiled. “Yes. Oh, yes.”

  It was just a simple kiss. Mouth to mouth. And yet, it was so achingly sweet it changed everything. There could have been thunder and lightning. An earth tremor. And all she would care about was this. This rush of heat. This roar of two heartbeats. And her world tilting dangerously out of control.

  He kissed her with a skill that left her breathless. There was such patience in him. Laced with a hint of danger. The combination was potent. Like a drug. Weakening her.

  The innocence in her, the fear warred with a woman’s awakening desire.

  “Kiss me back, Isabella.” Sweet heaven, he needed her to.

  His words spurred a boldness in her that neither of them expected. Suddenly she was clinging to him, her mouth hot and hungry, her body straining toward his.

  Stunned, he dragged her closer and plundered her mouth. The scent of cinnamon and sugar and the clean, fresh fragrance of cooking were all around her. He breathed them in, needing to fill himself with her.

  He knew every sound in this cabin. The hiss and snap of the fire. The creak of logs in the cold night air. The sighing of the wind along the chimney. But for now he was deaf to all but the sound of her loving. She whimpered as her hands roamed his flesh and her mouth moved on his, wanting more, taking more. Her breath was coming faster now as she lost herself in the pleasure.

  His fingers found the buttons of her gown. This time there was no frantic tearing of fabric, no haste. Instead he unbuttoned slowly, lazily, slipping it further and further off her shoulders. His lips followed, burning a trail of fire down her throat, across each bared shoulder.

  “Oh, Matthew. That feels so good. Can you do it again?”

  Her simple request staggered him. He had to rest his forehead on hers a moment, to summon the gentleness she required. A need was building in him. A force that would require all his control to tame.

  And so he kissed her neck, her shoulders, and drew her gown away before reaching for the ribbons of her chemise. She gasped in surprise when he tossed it aside, freeing her breasts. But before she could protest, he covered one firm peak with his mouth, and her body arched instinctively.

  “Isabella, you’re so beautiful.”

  In answer she moaned, low and deep. With each brush of his tongue, each tug of his lips, there was an answering tug deep inside that had the heat building, and a mixture of pleasure and pain that left her gasping.

  She made no protest when his hands moved lower, to remove her petticoat and heavy cotton stockings. He knew, by the way she quivered at the touch of his fingers and mouth, that she was becoming lost in the passion.

  This was how he’d dreamed of her all those long, empty nights. Naked. Willing. Eager.

  “I want to look at you, Isabella. And touch you. All of you.”

  She expected a wave of shame, but none came. There was no embarrassment. No feeling of wickedness. Only this need. Building. Growing. Was this how it was between husbands and wives? Was this how it ought to be?

  “You’re so soft. So lovely. Even lovelier than I’d dreamed.” With hands and mouth he touched and tasted until her breath hitched and her body arched with need.

  “Sweet salvation, Matthew.” The words were torn from her lips. “I don’t know what to do.”

  “There’s nothing to do. Just let it happen.”

  “I don’t…I can’t…” Her breath backed up in her throat. She felt as if she were standing on the highest mountain peak. One step and she’d soar. But fear, the fear of falling, held her back. And so she clung, afraid to relax, afraid to let go.

  And then he touched her as no man ever had before. And he found her hot and wet and ready. His hands, those clever, greedy hands, took her over the first peak.

  She was out of control. There were so many sensations colliding, convulsing through her that she couldn’t seem to get her bearings. She flew. She soared higher than she’d ever dreamed. And when she struggled to catch her breath, he gave her no chance to recover before he took her on an even faster, more dizzying spin.

  He knew if he didn’t find release for his own need soon, he’d go mad. Covering her mouth with his, he murmured, “Hold on to me, love.”

  Love. The word was like a beacon in a storm. A bright, blinding light that swept away all the darkness from her heart.

  Love. For that simple word she would follow him through the unknown. Would walk through fire. Endure any hardship. She gritted her teeth, anticipating pain.

  He entered her then, as slowly, as gently as he could manage. Instead of the expected shock and pain, she knew only more and more pleasure, exploding through her in shock wave after shock wave.

  She felt more alive than at any time in her life. Energized, she clutched him, her strength matching his as she wrapped herself around him, her body moving with his in perfect rhythm.

  They felt themselves drowning in a deep, dark river of passion. They rode it, swept along in the current, until, spent, cleansed, they lay, struggling for breath.

  They lay, still joined. Tremors continued to rock them as they floated gently back to earth.

  Neither of them was willing to break this fragile bond they had forged. But as Matt nuzzled her face, he tasted the salt of her tears.

  Tears? God in heaven, he felt his heart jolt, then stop. “Isabella, I’ve hurt you. How could I…what was I thinking?” He cursed himself for being a brute. A barbarian. “I was too rough. I forgot how innocent you are.” With a muffled oath he rolled aside, hating himself for having been the cause of her pain.

  At once she knelt up, framing his face with her hands. “You didn’t hurt me, Matthew. I’m crying because…because I’m so happy.”

  “You’re sure?” He covered her hands with his own, gripping them tightly. “You aren’t just saying that?”

  She shook her head, and the smile she gave him melted the ice around his heart and had it beating once more. “Is it always as wondrous as this?”

  “It can be. When it’s right.”

  “And what makes it right?”

  He drew her down until she was lying on top of him, her forehead pressed to his. His breath came out in a long, shuddering sigh. “When it’s between two people who care about each other.”

  She felt fresh tears cloud her vision. With her eyes closed tightly, she clung to him, reluctant to let go. “I do…care about you, Matthew.”

  “And I care about you, Isabella.” He wrapped his arms around her, molding her to the length of him. She fit so perfectly. As though made for him alone.

  Incredibly, he could feel himself becoming aroused again. “I’m not sure how it happened. Or when. Maybe it was seeing you with my children.” He smiled, and the warmth of it was in his voice. “Or maybe it was the first time I tasted your biscuits.”

  She lifted her head. An impish smile touched her lips. “So that’s it. It’s really my cooking you’ve grown fond of.”

  “You really are a remarkable cook. If I didn’t know better, I’d think some clever woman taught you the secret to every man’s heart.”

  “Oh, perhaps.” She caught his finger between her teeth and drew it into her mouth.

  The rush of heat caught him by surprise. “I know one thing, Isabella. It isn’t your cooking I’m thinking about right now.”

  “It isn’t?” Though he
r smile was as innocent as ever, he had the impression that it masked a glimmer of newfound knowledge.

  “If you’re not careful, I may keep you awake all night.” When her smile grew, he whispered, “You don’t seem too upset by my suggestion.”

  She gave a gentle shake of her head. “I wouldn’t mind at all. In fact—” she timidly brushed her lips over his and thrilled at the groan that escaped him “—I have so much I’d like to learn.” Emboldened by his reaction, she lowered her mouth for another kiss. “That is, if you’re not hurting too much to teach me more…”

  His moan turned into a growl of pleasure. In one quick motion he rolled her over and covered her mouth in a hot, hungry kiss. “Where would you like to begin?”

  “At the beginning, please.” At his astonished look she added, “I wouldn’t want to miss anything.”

  In the darkness Matt winced at the twinge of pain in his shoulder. All night, there’d been no time to think about the pain. It had been completely obliterated by the loving. And what loving.

  Once Isabella had overcome her fear, she had become a most delightful surprise. Her lovemaking had been by turns shy and bold, simple and exotic. He had never known such a night of pleasure.

  He reached for her and was disappointed to find her gone. But before he could get up and go in search of her, he saw the flickering of lantern light as she made her way to the bed.

  “What’s all this?”

  She set a tray on the pillow and knelt beside him. “Food. I’m worried about you. You didn’t eat a thing yesterday.”

  “And you’re afraid all the exertion you put me through will be the death of me?”

  She blushed and reached for a steaming cup of coffee. “Here. This will warm you.”

  He accepted it and drank, then handed it back to her. “I know a better way to keep warm.”

  She couldn’t help laughing. “Indeed you do. But now you must eat something.” She handed him a plate on which she’d piled several slices of roast venison and biscuits spread with honey.

  He ate in silence, occasionally sighing over the tenderness of the meat and the sweetness of the biscuits.

  “Here.” He offered her the last bite of biscuit, then drew her close and licked the honey from her lips. “As wonderful as your cooking is, you taste even better.”

  “Then I don’t know why I bothered to feed you,” she said with a little pout.

  “I was wondering the same thing.” He set aside the plate and lifted a hand to stroke her hair. “But then I realized how clever you’ve become.”

  “Clever?”

  He caught a strand of her hair and drew her fractionally closer, all the while loving the emotions he could read in her eyes. “You planned all this so that you could build up my strength for more loving.”

  She pressed her hands to his chest. “Matthew. It’s almost dawn. The children will be waking up soon and wanting their breakfast.”

  “Really? I hadn’t noticed.” He dragged her close, pinning her beneath the weight of his body. “I guess we’d better hurry then.”

  “Matth—”

  He swallowed her protest and muttered against her lips, “I have so much loving to share, Isabella. Let’s not waste a minute.”

  With soft sighs and whispered words they slipped once more into that secret, passionate world that only lovers can share.

  Chapter Fourteen

  “Pa.” Aaron, just entering the cabin, nearly dropped the pail of milk when he saw his father walking out of the bedroom. “You’re up and about already?”

  “Of course, boy.” Matt shot his son a radiant smile.

  “How’re you feeling, Pa?” Del climbed down from the loft and paused at the foot of the ladder.

  “Fine. Never better.”

  Benjamin and Clement glanced at each other in surprise, before visibly relaxing. After the vicious fight they’d witnessed between their father and the sergeant, they’d fretted that their father would be laid up for days, or possibly weeks.

  “Come and eat,” Izzy called. “You children must be starving.” She turned from the stove and handed Del a platter of scrambled eggs.

  As the others passed the food around the table, Aaron fell silent and studied Izzy. She was barefoot, and limping slightly. Not so much that anyone would notice, but the more he watched, the more he realized she moved with an awkward, uneven gait. He experienced a wave of bitter anger, recalling Cutler’s crude remarks. Though the younger ones might think otherwise, he was convinced that it hadn’t been Cutler’s treatment of the stallion that had triggered his father’s rage; it had been his cruel taunts about Isabella.

  The boy had spied her gown, freshly washed, flapping on the clothesline outside. In its place she was wearing one of Matt’s shirts and a pair of Clement’s britches and had tied an apron over them. Her hair was wild, flying in all directions, even though she’d tried to tame it by tying it back with a ribbon.

  She appeared flustered, but that was understandable, considering the circumstances. After all, she’d practically had to pry their father off Sergeant Cutler. For a few tense moments, they’d all thought their pa would kill him.

  “There wasn’t time to bake fresh biscuits this morning, so I toasted yesterday’s bread and sprinkled a little sugar and cinnamon on top.” Izzy set a plate on the table and handed Benjamin a platter of sliced venison.

  “Coffee, Matthew?” She paused beside his chair and filled his cup.

  “Thank you.” He looked up and gave her a smile that would have melted a winter’s worth of snow atop the Sierras.

  She blushed furiously and glanced away.

  Aaron gaped at the two of them. Despite the dressings bulging beneath the collar of his father’s shirt, and the ugly purple bruise spreading around his eye and cheek, he looked as frisky as that old roan stallion surrounded by a herd of mares. On Isabella’s cheeks were two bright spots of color. And when she returned Matt’s smile, her own was dazzling.

  The truth hit Aaron with all the force of a raging blizzard. His jaw dropped. His eyes widened.

  “Aaron?”

  He blinked. And realized everyone was looking at him.

  “I said, would you like some milk, Aaron?” Izzy was standing beside him, holding aloft a pitcher.

  “Yes’m. Thank you.” His hand shook as he accepted the glass of milk.

  To hide his embarrassment, he downed it in one long swallow.

  “I spotted some tracks across the south meadow yesterday, Pa.” Clement wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Looked like a pretty big herd of mustangs. Want to have a look after breakfast?”

  Matt shook his head. “Not today, son.”

  At his unexpected refusal, everyone looked up at him.

  “I’ve never known you to pass up a chance to track a herd of mustangs, Pa. What’s wrong?” Benjamin asked in alarm.

  “Nothing. It’s just that I’ve got plans for today.” Matt casually drained his cup.

  “Plans?” Izzy turned from the fire.

  “I thought we’d all take it slow and easy today. Maybe take the wagon down to the meadow and have ourselves a picnic.”

  “A…picnic?” Izzy spilled the coffee and had to stoop to wipe it up. She looked up from the floor. “We’re going to ride all the way down to the meadow just to have a picnic?”

  “Unless you can think of something you’d rather do.”

  Izzy shook her head. “I can’t think of a thing, Matthew.”

  The children glanced at one another, wondering what to make of this.

  “Well, then.” Matt helped himself to another piece of cinnamon toast. “How soon can everybody be ready?”

  Caught up in the excitement, the children began gulping their milk and swallowing the last of their breakfast.

  “Soon’s I can get on my boots,” Benjamin shouted, struggling to sort through the pile of boots beside the door.

  “Soon’s I can hitch the team.” Clement was already headed outside.

  “Soo
n’s I can lock up my chickens.” Del raced to the door, with the hounds bounding after her.

  “I’ll get my dress from the line.” Izzy hurried away, untying her apron as she walked. “But I’ll need some time to prepare the food.”

  “Take all the time you need.” Matt poured himself another cup of coffee and turned from the fire, pleased with himself. When he spotted Aaron still seated at the table, he took the seat across from him.

  “Something on your mind, son?”

  “No, sir. Yes, sir. I mean…” The boy ducked his head, then slowly lifted his gaze to his father. “You’re different this morning.”

  “I am?” Matt set down his cup and crossed his arms on the table. Then he slowly nodded his head. “I guess I am. Marriage to the right woman does that. Softens some of the hard edges. Makes you want to do nice things for the people you love. You don’t mind?”

  “No, sir. I’m glad. And I’m glad you stopped Sergeant Cutler from hurting Isabella.”

  “I’m not proud of fighting, but it had to be done.” Matt stood and rounded the table, dropping a hand on Aaron’s shoulder. “I have you to thank for all this. For making us a family again.”

  “I didn’t do that, Pa. Isabella did.”

  Slowly Matt absorbed the jolt of knowledge and nodded his head. “I guess you’re right, son. It is Isabella who’s made us a family again.”

  “And I sure am glad that you and Isabella finally found that…sweetening you told me about, Pa.” With a grin, the boy pushed away from the table and hurried out the door.

  Matt waited until the door closed behind him. Then he threw back his head and roared with laughter. They’d found the sweetening, all right. And by God, it was finer than old wine.

  “Do you know any good songs, Isabella?” As the wagon rolled across the meadow, the children’s voices rang with dozens of questions.

  Izzy turned on the hard wooden seat and faced the children, who were lounging in the back of the wagon, along with the eager hounds, who were clearly enjoying this rare treat. “Most of the songs I learned in the tavern aren’t fit for children’s ears. But I do remember one I used to hear the people singing in church.”

  “I thought your pa was the pastor,” Del said innocently.