Sierra Bride

by Jenna Kernan

  His mouth slanted across hers at exactly the right angle. His tongue moistened her lips and she opened for him, allowing him to explore and tease and tempt.

  As he deepened their kiss, she lifted up to her toes in an effort to be closer to him, tugging on his shoulders, demanding more. The deliciousness of his mouth made her yearn for him with a wildness she could not resist.

  His hands moved in symphony, one cradling her head, as the other splayed across her back. He dipped to kiss her neck and her head fell back to give him access. His hand scaled over her stays to find the soft swell of her breast. He kneaded her yielding flesh, finding the hard nub of her nipple and rolling it, causing a shaft of almost painful delight to fire straight to her core.

  “Oh, yes,” she gasped.

  His mouth trailed to her ear, licking and nibbling the soft shell and then sucking the lobe.

  “You taste so sweet. I’ll never get enough of you.”

  His hand moved from her breast and she moaned her discontentment at his abandonment.

  A moment later she felt the heat of his palm, descending from her throat and into her chemise. She gasped as his bare hand cupped her naked breast, lifting and weighing her soft flesh. She bit her lip to keep from crying out her delight.

  His mouth trailed down her neck, dropping burning embers of heat with each kiss. He was going to take her nipple into his mouth. She knew it and arched her back, offering herself to him.

  His lips brushed her sensitive flesh and she groaned. He opened his mouth and drew her in, sucking on one breast as he fondled the other.

  Never in her life had she felt this pulsing desire. It beat with her heart at the juncture of her thighs. She was frantic to have more. Nothing could stop them.

  “Mr. Pickett?”

  She stiffened.

  Sam drew back, leaving her breast cold, wet and exposed. Before them stood a young man, dressed in the dark blue wool jacket of a conductor. He held a silver platter heaped with cheese, bread and a bowl of fresh sliced fruit.

  “I have the light fare, as ordered, sir.” He closed the door and turned, suddenly stupefied to the spot.

  “Idiot.” Sam’s tone made the word sound like a dismissal.

  The man glanced at Kate, as she tried to fasten her dress. How in the world had Sam disassembled her so quickly?

  “I’m sorry, sir.”

  Sam’s lips were now pinched tight and he glared, lifting an eyebrow as if cocking a pistol.

  The young man started to creep backward as Sam stalked forward.

  “Give me that,” snapped Sam, relieving him of the tray. “Now git.”

  He did, bowing and then turning tail and running out the door and out of sight.

  Sam called down the stairs. “Do that again and I’ll shoot you.”

  Sam carried the tray to a small table before the couch and thumped it down.

  The interruption presented Kate with the opportunity to think. Instantly, panic squeezed her throat. Somehow Sam’s touch made her forget her fears. But without his arms about her, her courage fled.

  He returned to her. She maintained her outward stillness while, inside, her heart raced as she struggled to breathe. She had reached the moment of reckoning. Sam was entitled to take his pleasure and she could do nothing to stop him.

  She began to quake.

  His gaze swept hungrily over her and without asking, he reached. She closed her eyes braced to be set upon.

  She waited. Nothing happened. She opened one eye and found him glaring at her.

  “Tarnation, woman, I’m not going to hurt you.”

  He grasped a carafe of wine from the bar behind the sofa and poured a glass. He thrust it at her.

  “Drink it,” he ordered.

  She did, feeling the slight acrid burn of the tart burgundy liquid. It pitched in her stomach and she feared she would not keep it down. But after a few moments, a pleasant warmth filled her.

  Sam sat beside her, waiting as she finished what he had poured. Perhaps he was right to offer spirits. Luke had often given her champagne. A small amount did take away some of the dread. She took careful sips until she had finished the wine.

  “Better?” he asked.

  She nodded and he took the empty glass.

  “If you made a mistake, you best say so while there’s still time to get off.”

  She found her tongue but could not meet his gaze. “I don’t know what you mean.”

  He snorted. “I’m not so besotted with you, Kate, that I can’t see it. No matter what our agreement, I’m not taking an unwilling woman.”

  Chapter Eight

  K ate gasped in shock at his candor. His eyes narrowed in a silent challenge, daring her to deny it.

  She deliberated her options—either tell him the truth or lie about her obvious reluctance, and she wasn’t a good liar. Just the idea of speaking of her marriage bed to Sam made her cheeks flush. To reveal such a personal, embarrassing truth deflated her like a fallen cake.

  He watched her like a cat that had cornered a mouse. She stared up at him and felt her eyes fill with tears.

  “Oh, hell no.” He rose. “I’m taking you home.”

  He stood and marched to the door.

  “Foster!” he shouted.

  “No!” Her word was too sharp and far too desperate.

  He stared at her in shock, and then closed the door.

  “Despite what you think of me, Mrs. Wells, I’m not the sort to make a woman weep.” He stared at her now as if she were some strange and dangerous creature. The heat had left his gaze to be replaced by a tight-lipped control and guarded expression.

  She pressed her gloved fist to her mouth, pinching her eyes shut against the humiliation of this moment. She could not look at him as she spoke the truth.

  “It is not you, Mr. Pickett. It was my husband. You see, I didn’t enjoy his attentions.”

  She felt the sofa sag under his weight as he sank down beside her, but could not seem to lift her chin off her chest to look at him.

  “I knew it,” he whispered.

  Her astonishment momentarily surmounted her shame and she glanced at him. “You knew?”

  “I suspected that from the way you freeze up on me whenever we get too…involved.” Sam stroked her arm.

  “He said there was something wrong with me.”

  “There isn’t.”

  Her heart warmed at the speed with which Sam came to her defense.

  “He hurt you?”

  She nodded.

  Sam clenched his jaw. His eyes narrowed to slits. As the blood rushed to his face, it fled hers. She stared at an expression so full of rage that she could not keep from cowering.

  “That lousy, miserable bastard.”

  She winced at the cold fury of his eyes and glanced away, staring at the fringed window curtains. She had told no one the intimate details of her marriage, not even her aunt. She was too deeply humiliated by how she had been treated and, yet, Sam’s reaction was not what she expected. He had been furious. That was true, but not with her. He was angry with Luke.

  She glanced back, seeing the carefully contained wrath evident on his face. Even with the vein in his forehead throbbing with each beat of his heart, he did not shout at her. She’d never met a man who displayed such self-control.

  God knows, Luke had none. He was like a child taking what he wanted and throwing a tantrum when denied. Kate squeezed her eyes shut, trying to banish the images of Luke’s hands choking her as he pushed her legs apart.

  Sam’s voice dropped to an angry growl. “It’s a good thing they hung the bastard or I’d be wanted for murder.”

  Her eyes rounded in shock. He was championing her? The warmth returned to her icy fingers and she smiled. Could Sam be any different than Luke?

  His eyes remained trained on her, but his head was turned half away as if it hurt him to look at her.

  “Why’d you marry him?”

  She resisted the urge to squirm. “Foolishness. I was too naive to
recognize the sort of man he was. My mother saw right through him, of course. He’d tried to come sparking, but she sent him off. She didn’t think it proper for a man to stop a lady on the street.

  Sam pressed his lips together. Did he recognize he had done much the same himself?

  Kate filled the awkward pause with more talk. “I was so angry.” Her chest constricted at her pang of regret, but she lifted her chin and met his steady gaze. “It’s terrible to be able to see everything so clearly when you look back, isn’t it? But at the same time he seemed so gallant…” She shrugged her shoulder. “Then my mother passed quite suddenly. Luke came to pay his respects.”

  Sam nodded.

  Kate could not deny the fox had raided the henhouse the minute the hound was absent. Why hadn’t she seen it?

  “He came upon me at a hard time, quite desperate really. I didn’t know what to do, who to turn to. Luke took care of everything. He saw to the flowers and the casket, even the service. He was like a white knight from some fairy tale.” She glanced at Sam and found his jaw ticking.

  “What about your aunt?” he asked. “Couldn’t she help you?”

  “I think she most certainly would have, had she known. You see, we were estranged. My father did not approve of her marrying a Catholic. She came as soon as she learned of my mother’s passing from the list of victims in the paper. And she tried to visit, but I never knew. Luke sent her away without telling me.” Kate laced her trembling fingers carefully on her lap and forced a smile. “As I said, I was foolish.”

  “He took advantage of you.”

  “Perhaps. But I am the one who married a man I hardly knew. I value my autonomy more highly now.”

  “And it’s a good reason to be skittish of men.” He rubbed his jaw. “That still leaves our current predicament.”

  She nodded. “Yes.”

  “I’ll never mistreat you that way, Kate.”

  She wondered why she should believe him. Experience had taught her men did not always keep their promises. Still her instincts told her he was not a cruel man. But she had been wrong before.

  There was a knock and Sam called his permission to enter. Kate saw the top of someone’s head. A face popped into view in the window of the compartment door, then disappeared again, like a gopher ducking back into his hole. The door cracked open and Kate could see only an arm.

  “You called, sir?”

  “Go away,” said Sam.

  “Yes, sir. The engineer says she’s got a full head of steam and is ready if you are.”

  Sam looked at Kate. “Final call,” he said.

  She laid a hand on his forearm. “I’m staying with you.”

  He gave her the most winning of smiles and she could not help smiling herself. She realized that she liked Sam. He had a kindness in him that she never would have anticipated.

  Sam called to the conductor. “Tell him to let her go.”

  “Right away, Mr. Pickett.”

  The door eased shut. A moment later the car gave a shudder. Kate glanced about in anticipation. She’d never ridden on a train.

  “Sit tight now, we’re about to move.”

  Kate gripped the armrest of the sofa.

  The long sharp whistle blast made her jump. Next, the train jolted forward with such force that, had she been standing, she most certainly would have been thrown to the floor. Kate looked out the window and had the dizzying sensation that the world outside was moving, instead of the other way around.

  The black smoke billowed past the windows until she could see nothing. She noticed that Sam was studying her.

  “Something, isn’t it?”

  She nodded in excitement. “Oh, yes. Quite smooth once it is going.”

  The world reappeared as the smoke dissolved like a fog. Kate leaned forward to watch the city flash by in a blur. She had never moved so fast in her life. Very quickly the buildings gave way to the fruit orchards and wheat fields. Kate’s delight caused her to inch forward so she perched on the very edge of her seat.

  “It’s like flying.” She turned to find Sam’s attention centered completely upon her.

  He returned her smile, but his eyes were hungry again.

  Kate gripped the seat, bracing for another battle with her uneasiness, but it did not come. Instead, she felt something that only happened with Sam, and back was the tingling awareness she had first experienced in that alley.

  His hand sat casually between them. She unclasped her fingers and reached for him but then lost her nerve. When she glanced up, she found him still regarding her with a constancy of purpose. His stillness seemed a facade, designed to appear nonthreatening, as if he ever could.

  “I enjoy kissing you, Sam. But I keep thinking of what comes next.” Somehow she met his stare. “I’m afraid.”

  He sat far back on the sofa and patted his lap. “Come here, Kate.”

  She hesitated only a moment and then did as he bade her, inching closer until her thigh pressed to his. Beneath her the steel wheels turned, carrying her away from her family and sending a pleasant vibration through the soles of her leather slippers and the seat beneath them.

  Sam reached around her waist and plucked her from her place, as if she were a daisy, instead of a full-grown woman of nearly eighteen.

  “Oh,” she said as he nestled her between his splayed legs.

  He eased her back so she rested against the solid mass of his torso as if it were the backrest of her favorite chair.

  She rested her head against his shoulder and he tugged at the strings of her new emerald hat. She imagined the peacock feathers were likely hitting him in the eye. So she removed the pins that secured the hat in place and set it beside them on the couch.

  He hummed his approval and pressed his mouth to her temple, brushing her with a tender kiss. Then he caressed her arms with light feathery strokes more gentle than she would have dreamed possible.

  Her shoulders relaxed. If only he would just hold her, just give her his wonderful kisses and nothing more.

  She closed her eyes, enjoying the low vibrations of the car rolling down the tracks and Sam’s rhythmic touch.

  His voice was soothing now, all traces of dissatisfaction gone from his deep, rumbling voice.

  “It won’t be like that for us. I’ll be gentle and see to your needs.”

  Needs? What was he talking about? The only thing she had wanted was for him to kiss her neck while he petted her like a Persian kitten.

  “Trust me, Kate. Let me show you how good we can be.”

  He had given her no reason to doubt him. Her wariness did not come from anything Sam had done. And she realized it was not fair to judge him on the actions of another man. But weren’t all men alike in this way?

  Honestly, she did not know.

  He had been more than patient and his touch was gentle—so different than Luke’s. But she shifted restlessly between his legs now, as she found it more and more difficult to remain still.

  His lips brushed her neck, caressing the bare skin between her ear and the top of her lace collar. Heat seeped into her like tea into warm water. She shifted again.

  “That’s it. Nothing but pleasure, I swear.”

  She closed her eyes and pretended to believe him. Perhaps he believed it, as well. Perhaps the women in his past were wise enough to make him feel welcome. She should do that.

  His mouth found the shell of her ear, nibbling along the sensitive flesh. She trembled and sighed, lost in the sensual bliss of his ministrations.

  Sam wrapped an arm about her waist, forcing her to stillness with the pressure of his hand on her stomach. His fingers reached from her ribs to her nether regions. He did not grope or paw at her, but waited, as if for her to become accustomed to the intimacy of his touch.

  The heat of his hand and the arousing scrape of his teeth on her neck forced a groan from her throat.

  The sensual assault was like nothing she’d ever endured. Her breathing grew erratic. Her hips shifted of their own volition. Her mi
nd filled with the desire to feel skin on skin. Her breasts felt the now-familiar ache and she arched against the desire, tightening her muscles and offering her throat to him.

  He peeled back her gloves, leaving her palms naked for his kisses. His tongue swirled on the sensitive skin at her wrist and she gasped at the erotic sight and feel of him. He nibbled at her bare flesh and her breasts tingled with a need to be stroked. Who would have suspected that touching her arms could cause a reaction so far away?

  And somehow he knew what he did to her, knew that she longed to have his hands fondle her breasts, even as he kissed her neck. He kneaded her sensitive flesh, stirring an aching heaviness. But instead of sweet relief, his strong hands only made the ache more acute. She arched into his hand like a cat and felt the low rumble of satisfaction in his chest.

  One hand left her and she whimpered her disapproval.

  He gathered her skirt, yard by yard, until his fingers brushed over her stockings, advancing steadily along her knee, reaching her garter and the terminus of her stockings to the point where her cotton bloomers should have been. His hand paused.

  “You did as I asked,” he murmured.

  “Yes,” she whispered, not really knowing why she had done it. It was wicked and scandalous—just the sort of thing a mistress might do.

  She turned her head and he swept down to claim a kiss. His mouth slanted over hers, his lips firm and tender. She sighed and his tongue sought entrance to her mouth. She met his sensual assault with a counterattack of her own, thrilling at the reflexive tightening of his grip upon her. His tongue swept over hers as she burned beneath him. She could not get enough air now, even though her breathing was fast and hungry. Something was happening inside her, some coiling pressure, building toward something. She did not understand, but she wanted…more.

  His hand stroked her inner thigh. His fingers were callused and the rough texture on her smooth skin made her writhe against him.

  He gave a growl as his hips rocked against her in a motion with which she was well acquainted. But instead of dampening her desire, his movement only made her squirm. The kiss ended as Sam gasped, pressing his forehead to her temple.