They would need more firewood before the fire died too low. He extinguished the lantern and left the barn making certain he secured the outside latch to the barn door.
11
Grace silently winged a prayer of gratitude heavenward. Thank you, God, for the snow storm. It gave her more time to win her husband's...what? Love? Admiration? She was fairly certain he admired her courage. She had seen it in his eyes but he was still taking her back to town. And now that he knew about her past, there was no chance to convince him she was the right woman for him.
And yet, there was definitely a connection. Especially after the kiss he gave her on the floor last night. She lied when she told John it was nothing. It had been something amazing. And it made her feel things down low. She wasn’t experienced at what those things were that went on between a man and a woman, but there was no doubt in her mind, her husband was attracted to her and that kiss affected him as much as it had her. His reaction was evident through her nightgown. But what could she do about it?
She paced around the warm cabin and wondered. How long had John been gone? She had lost track of time but he had been gone long enough that she had supper almost ready and sitting’ on the stove keeping warm. Was he in trouble? Fear seeped its way into her brain. He’s probably all right. He’s just taking his time in the barn where it’s warm.
A glance out the window told her the storm was strengthening. She couldn’t even see the path John shoveled to the barn earlier. How would John know which way the cabin was? Grace paced a few more minutes. Still no John. Something’s wrong. He’s in trouble.
She pulled another pair of socks from her trunk in the bedroom and tugged them on her already socked feet. Her boots were snug with two pair of socks and cramped her toes against the end of the boot. It was a little painful but she would manage. Lacing her boot was impossible so she wrapped the cord around the top of her boot and tied it tight to keep as much snow out as possible. Her jacket wasn’t very heavy so she grabbed one of John’s on the peg and covered it with her shawl. She used another wool cape to tie around her head. It wasn’t much protection from the wind, but it was all she had. Unlatching the bolt on the cabin door, the wind pushed it open suddenly flooding the warm cabin with a cold blast of wind. Grace stepped into the snow swirling outside and pulled the door closed behind her. It was a lot colder than she thought and she couldn’t see more than six inches in front of her face. She yelled into the white abyss.
“John? John! Where are you?”
Her words were thrown back in her face by the wind driven snow. She stopped to listen. All she could hear was the whistling of the wind in the pine trees. It must have snowed half the night. The snow was almost knee deep making it nearly impossible to wade through the stuff. At least it had little moisture in the flakes making it more powder than slush. One foot in front of the other, Grace made her way in the direction of the barn. At least she hoped she was headed in the right direction. Shards of icy flakes stung her eyes forcing her to keep them squinted almost shut. Cold seeped into every opening in her clothing. She had to get to John and she had to get this right or they both could die.
John went to the side of the cabin and loaded his arms with firewood. He had enough wood on this trip to last a few hours. Grateful his eldest brother, Jed, had decided to put the wood so close to the cabin, he may owe his brother a thank you next time he saw him. It certainly made gathering wood in this storm a lot easier.
He kicked on the door with his boot and waited for Grace to open it. She didn’t answer.
“Grace. I need some help here. Can you open the door please?” Still no answer. John’s heart picked up its pace. She wouldn’t. Would she?
“Grace! Open the door.” Fear clawed at his chest. He dumped the arm full of wood beside the door and raised the latch and stepped inside. “Grace!” No answer. Just as he had feared. The crazy woman had gone out in the storm after all. But why? To help him. But had he been gone that long? He couldn’t remember.
He saw supper warming on the stove. Damn it. He’d been in the barn longer than he thought. The scarf he wore was soaked so he threw it on the floor and grabbed a dry one from the peg behind the door. He wrapped it twice around his face and neck and tucked it inside the upturned collar of his coat. John headed back out into the storm.
He hadn’t passed her coming back from the barn. Or had he? He couldn’t see more than a few feet in front of his face. He yelled for Grace but his words were insulated by the swirling snow. He had to find her soon. She would get frostbite in no time out here.
He retraced his steps to the barn, startling his horses when he jerked open the barn door. No Grace. His fear hitched up a notch as he tried to figure out where she could have gone. The river. Dear God, if she followed him to the river, she could miss the bank and walk right on into the water. It wasn’t deep but the cold water would soak her clothing. She wouldn’t last any time at all. He slammed the barn door shut and waded through the snow in the direction of the river. This cabin had been part of his family’s life since he’d been a toddler. There wasn’t a twig or rock on this place he couldn’t find blind-folded. Blinding snow or no, he knew exactly which direction the river was.
Damn it. He tried to tell everyone he couldn’t take care of a wife. If anything happened to Grace, he would find out who brought her here with that damned letter and strangle them with his bare hands.
John pushed through the snow headed toward the river. “Grace. Answer me. Grace.”
His words echoed back at him. The old gnarled Bristol pine trunk his brother dragged to the edge of the river came in sight. Almost to the river’s edge. What would he find? His heart clawed up his chest and clung to his throat. What if he didn’t find her? But maybe worse. What if he did. The more time passed without finding her, the more terrified he became. He would not let Grace die.
He heard something. He listened. Nothing but the wind howling in his ears. Wait. There it was again.
“John.” Faint but definitely his name. His relief pounded in his ears. “Grace. Where are you?”
“I’m here.”
“Where, Grace? Keep talking. I’ll find you.”
He pushed through the mounds of snow in the direction of her voice.
“Talk to me, Grace. Keep talking. I’m coming to get you.”
“John. I hear you. I’m coming to get you.”
What? She’s trying to rescue me? You’ve got to be kidding. The woman is nuts. But he smiled in spite of himself. She’s coming to rescue me. A little tiny fissure broke loose somewhere near his heart. He waded toward the disembodied voice and a few seconds later, the most wonderful sight he had ever seen came trudging toward him out of the swirling snow.
“Grace. What the hell are you doing out here? You are going to freeze to death.” She stumbled and fell at his feet.
“You were gone so long. I thought you were in trouble so I came to get you.”
He picked her up in his arms and turned back toward the cabin. “Are you addled in the head, woman? You could have died out here in a very short time. What were you thinking?”
She tucked her face against his chest and held on to his neck. He felt her mumble against his chest but he couldn’t make out what she was saying. It could wait until he got them both inside and warm.
It took every ounce of his strength to mush through the snow carrying Grace. But he wasn’t going to stop. Finally, he saw the outline of the cabin and sighed in relief.
He unlatched the door and stepped inside, still holding his frozen wife. Slamming the door in place, he walked over to the fire and did his best to sit in the chair next to the fire, still holding her. His clothes were frozen stiff and he couldn’t feel any heat at all coming from the fire. Grace was shivering violently. He needed to get her out of those wet, ice-laced clothes or she would catch her death of pneumonia.
“Grace. I’m going to get you into a warm bath, okay? I’m heating the water now.” He gently settled her in the chair so he c
ould pull the wash tub off the wall and set it on the floor next to the fire. He poured water from the water barrel into the pot on top of the stove and stocked the fire with several sticks of wood. Then he began to strip Grace, one piece of clothing at a time. He removed her boots and socks, rubbing her feet to create circulation until she begged him to stop. He removed her frozen shawl, now dripping water all over the floor. He removed her jacket, overskirt, skirt and when he reached her petticoats and camisole, he hesitated. It was one thing to feel his wife’s attributes in the dark of night. It was quite another to see them in the flickering bright light of a roaring fire.
He heard her teeth chatter violently.
“I’m going to cover you with this quilt until the water is hot. Then, you need to come out of the rest of those wet clothes.” She nodded her understanding and pulled the edges of the quilt close around her.
The fire roared, pulling the cabin’s log walls into its flickering light. John emptied one bucket of hot water into the washtub and quickly filled the pot again with water. Then he began shucking his own wet clothes. Boots. Socks. Jacket. Shirt. Pants. With each garment he discarded, he watched his shivering wife’s eyes grow larger. A certain amount of satisfaction colored his movements. Still in his long johns, soaked from the knees down, he spared his wife’s sensibilities until two more buckets of hot water landed into the washtub.
“The water is ready.”
“Okay.” Her tentative answer made him grin.
“Take off your underthings. I’ll help you into the tub.
“I can manage by myself.” She stood and waited for him to leave while her teeth still chattering violently.
“Grace. Don’t be silly. You need to get into that hot water and where would you like me to wait? Outside in nothing but my underwear? You are a practical girl. Get in the water. Now.”
He watched his wife hesitate and he wondered what he would do if she declined. Pick her up and dump her in the tub? Hardly. But the thought of Grace’s naked body sitting in the tub, lit by the flickering firelight, water sluicing over her creamy breasts was going to embarrass him if she didn’t move quickly. He could not hide his interest in the woman behind his wet long johns. Nope. There wouldn’t be much his new bride would not see.
“I will on one condition.” She had a look in her eye that spelled trouble. What was she up to?
“And what could that condition be?”
“If you join me. There’s room for both of us.”
This was not going at all as planned.
12
Grace was terrified. She had never even been naked in front of her sisters much less a man who was practically a stranger. It didn’t matter if the law represented them as husband and wife. They had only met a few days ago. John was a stranger and yet, last night, they shared a kiss. A connection.
The look in John’s eyes when she invited him to share her tub of hot water was almost comical. He wanted her. No matter how much he denied his feelings it was plain to see. He. Wanted. Her. This was her chance to convince him that no matter how their marriage started, they could make it work. They could be happy. They could make a place for a family.
It took every ounce of courage she possessed but she locked on to his clear blue eyes. His pupils grew larger and his eyes darkened. She remembered Lila, Rosie’s main attraction, doing a striptease on stage for the customers. She would do exactly what she had seen Lila do.
She swayed her hips back and forth, never taking her eyes from his. He stood stock still watching her every move. Encouraged just a bit, she grew bolder. What was it Lila did next? Oh yeah. Grace pulled the ribbon loose from her camisole and tugged the neck wider. She watched John’s eyes grow wider too. She then pulled at her long woolen underwear, one side down low over her hip, swaying her hips back and forth. Then the other side. The man didn’t move or utter a sound, but from the looks of his flannel underwear, he was definitely interested.
Grace was surprised by the heady power she felt and the more she watched her husband’s face full of lust for her, the more she felt her own need growing. She grabbed the bottom of her camisole and slowly pulled it up her belly. Her eyes never left John but he was no longer looking at her eyes. He was looking at her belly. Taking a deep breath for courage, she wiggled her camisole over her breasts, leaving them exposed to John’s view while she hid her face with it. She could feel the heat of her blush but she had to push past it. Courage, Grace. You’ve gone too far to turn back now.
She pulled it off over her head and threw it on the floor before she lost her courage. She found John’s gaze again and the hunger she saw in his eyes almost buckled her knees. Standing in the firelight, naked from the hips up, she needed to keep going. She wiggled her hips and hooked her thumbs in the waistband of her long underwear. Then inch by agonizing inch, she pushed them off her body, exposing herself to this man in front of her. Quickly, she stepped over the edge of the tub, intending to slip into the tub and hide beneath the water and further entice her husband. Instead, her foot caught on the edge and down she went, head first.
Sitting up, flailing and sputtering, she pushed her hair, now soaked and heavy, out of her face to breath. She stole a glance at her husband. He stood stock still, his temple muscles flexing back and forth. Humiliated beyond all words, she began to cry.
“I’m so sorry. I’m not very good at this—sort of thing. I’m a fool. I know what you said about not wanting another wife, but I was hoping I could make you want me or at least get you to thinking that maybe, we could have a future or something. Oh, God. This can’t be happening.”
Grace tried not to look at John but she couldn’t help herself. He sat frozen staring at her. He was probably as mortified for her as she was for herself. What a mess. She wanted to seduce her husband and instead she made a laughing stock out of herself. She couldn’t believe he wasn’t laughing himself into a fit. He’s too considerate a gentleman to laugh at a lady’s embarrassment.
And then she saw something in his eyes. There was an awareness that hadn’t been there before. He held her gaze making it impossible for her to look away. And then, he stood. Slow. Deliberate. Never taking his eyes off hers.
“God help me, Grace. You’re a lot better at this seduction thing than you think.”
She was shocked when he ripped the buttons off his flannel underwear and peeled them off his wet skin, leaving them in a damp puddle on the floor. Grace could only stare at this giant of a man as he strode toward her with purpose in all his naked glory.
He tugged her to stand and he stepped into the tub with her. He turned her to face him and wrapping his arms around her, he hugged her close. His hard body against hers was a very new, but wonderful, sensation. She should be shocked. Embarrassed. Mortified. Instead, everything about it felt right.
Just when she thought she could stand it no longer, he pulled away only to reconnect through his kiss, so fierce she thought she would surely die from lack of oxygen. Before she could do or say anything, he sat down into the tub, pulling her down against his hard chest. His erection pushed hard against her backside.
He grabbed the washing cloth and lathered it with a sliver of soap he had found somewhere. And then he began a scintillating dance of his own. Using the rough cloth, he smoothed the suds over her breasts, first one, and then the other. The feeling was exquisite and she thought she would die from pure pleasure. But then he moved lower leaving the washcloth floating in the water instead using his rough, calloused hands to work their magic.
Grace was shocked at first. She had never been with a man before but when he gently pushed her legs apart and traced circles on her most intimate parts underneath the warm water, she melted against his chest, using him as support to keep from sliding under the water into a pool of heat.
She squeezed his thighs with her hands. The rough hair covering his muscled legs only added to her sensual experience. Could this get any better? And then, dear Lord, it did.
John couldn’t believe his eyes whe
n his wife began to do a striptease right in front of him. Where on earth had she learned to do that sort of thing? Rosie’s Red Slipper Saloon.
He did his best to resist her charms. He told himself this was a bad idea. He reminded himself he did not want a wife. He repeated his vow to remain a bachelor over and over again. But the more he tried to remember all the reasons he shouldn’t be doing this, the more his little siren with the whiskey colored eyes pulled him to his destruction as surely as those mermaids he read about in his mother’s books pulled sailors to their death beneath the sea.
When she had invited him into the tub with her, he had been speechless. But, when Grace fell into the water and came up sobbing that she was not good at seduction, he nearly choked. She was the most amazing woman he had met—since Lizzie. He stood still, waiting for the familiar pain that stabbed him deep in the chest when thoughts of his dead wife came calling.
But this time, her memory didn’t cut as deep. He waited a moment longer. Images of his dead wife and child didn’t materialize. All he saw at this moment was a beautiful, amazing woman sitting naked in a tub in the middle of a snowstorm with no one within fifty miles. And this woman was his legally wedded wife.
He hadn’t been able to get his damp clothes off fast enough. Shucking them down his cold legs, he didn’t bother to hide his arousal from his new wife. Working in a saloon, she had seen enough to know when a man was attracted to a woman. And he was damn sure attracted to her even though he was fairly certain she was not a virgin. But that didn’t matter to him at the moment. All that mattered was they needed each other now.
He stepped into the tub behind her and pulled her into his arms. The minute he touched her skin he knew he was past the point of no return. He shoved his guilt down. He would deal with his betrayal to Lizzie and his young son’s memory tomorrow.
Grace Page 9
