by Tess LeSue
But she didn’t say any of that. She didn’t want him to go bolting from the wagon, the way he’d bolted every time they’d kissed. Oh God, look at him. His shoulders were completely exposed now that the quilt was tucked around his chest. His collarbones were hard lines, and there was a hollow at the base of his throat. One dark curl licked up toward it.
Now when she lay against his shoulder her cheek met bare skin. She felt him shiver. His skin was so warm. Soft. The planes of his upper chest filled her vision.
What was happening here? She shouldn’t look a gift horse in the mouth . . . but how did he go from keeping her at arm’s length to having her rest her cheek against his naked chest? This was an invitation, wasn’t it? What else could it be?
She could see his pulse leaping in the hollow of his throat and hear the way his breath had grown jagged. Georgiana wanted to rest her hand on his chest, spreading her fingers over the tufts of hair. She wanted to stroke him, slowly, lightly, but she didn’t. She lay as rigid as a pole, struggling to breathe normally, feeling him tremble beneath her cheek.
“Georgiana?” his voice was thick.
“Yes?” She titled her head back and looked up at him. His eyes were liquid with lust. It sent something uncurling low in her belly. “Yes?” she said again, her voice throaty.
His lips parted, but he couldn’t seem to bring himself to speak.
The silence drew out, interminable, throbbing with their desire.
“Would you just kiss her and get it over with?” Phin’s voice was like a splash of icy water. They leapt apart and turned to see the twins and Susannah watching them, their chins propped on the sacks.
“Oh, you ruined it,” Susannah said, disappointed.
“They didn’t need me to ruin it,” Phin scoffed. “They can’t seem to court themselves out of a paper bag.”
Georgiana flushed. “How dare you spy on us! Don’t you know what privacy is?”
“Privacy isn’t in here with us,” Flip told her, exasperated. “If you want to be kissing all over the place, you could at least do it where we don’t have to watch.”
There was so much wrong with that statement that Georgiana didn’t even know where to start.
“We weren’t kissing,” Matt said gruffly. He’d wrapped himself up tight again and looked embarrassed enough to sink right through the floor.
“Only because you took so long,” Phin complained. “Jeez. When I’m grown up, you won’t see me hemming and hawing that way. If I like a girl, I’m just going to kiss her.”
“You’ll get slapped a lot, then,” Susannah observed. “Girls like a little courting before you go kissing them all over the place.”
Phin snorted.
“Would you all go back to bed,” Georgiana said sharply. “We’ll talk about your manners in the morning!”
They rolled their eyes and disappeared behind the sacks.
“Just take my advice,” Phin called over the sack wall as he settled back in for the night, “and don’t wait to kiss her.”
“I guess at least they ain’t scared of the storm anymore.” Matt cleared his throat.
“I guess not.” Georgiana pulled a face. It didn’t look like she was getting kissed anytime soon. Matt had gone all distant again and was pulling his clothes off the sacks. “Are you going?” she asked, disappointed.
“I’d best, while there’s a lull.”
Damn the storm. Now it chose to die down on her. It wasn’t even raining anymore.
“You mind turning your back?” he asked, holding up his wet pants.
She did mind, but she turned. Behind the wall she could see the three children looking up at her. Susannah gave her an apologetic look.
Wilby was definitely her favorite child, she thought crankily. He was still curled up, fast asleep with Woof. He wasn’t ruining anything for her.
She heard the wet sound of Matt trying to pull his trousers back on. She doubted they were comfortable.
“Sorry I got your quilt wet.”
When she turned back, he was dressed. She felt a crushing disappointment as she watched him swing over the back of the wagon.
“Hey,” he said, pausing and looking through the opening at her. Lightning flashed behind him, awarding him a halo. “When this storm ends, before we ride out again . . .” he trailed off.
“Yes?” she prodded.
“You fancy packing a picnic and coming with me to scout for Willow Springs? It’s not far and it might be nice to lead the train there for some fresh water.” He bit his lip. “That sounds pretty silly after the amount of fresh water we got tonight.” He looked up at the sky.
“No,” she protested, before he could withdraw his invitation. “I’d love to go.”
“I was thinking we could leave the children here with Becky and the train.”
“Yes. Yes, yes.” She’d sounded too enthusiastic, she knew. But, by God, she wasn’t having them interrupt her again, not if there was even the slightest chance that he would finally kiss her. And if he didn’t kiss her, she had half a mind to kiss him. Soundly.
25
HE WAS WAITING for her when she climbed down from the wagon the next morning. The storm had blown itself out, and the sky was crystal clear. The morning star shone in the east, and everything sparkled with raindrops. There was a rind of pale pink and purple light just curving over the horizon.
Georgiana admired the view as she swung down from the wagon. She thought she was alone and squealed in shock when Matt stepped in front of her. “You scared me,” she said breathlessly.
He must have been waiting for her to emerge, because he was fully dressed and had Wishes and Pablo saddled and ready to go. “I’ve already packed us some food and fetched Becky back to watch the children. I thought you might want to watch the sun come up with me. The morning after a storm is always mighty pretty.”
He must have been up terribly early to have all that done already. Or perhaps, like her, he hadn’t been able to sleep . . .
He’d shaved, she noticed. He’d also done something to his hair. It was neat. It was never neat. And what was he wearing? Since when did he wear a nice shirt to go scouting?
“You want to tell the little ’uns where you’re going? You might want to tell them you’ll be gone awhile.”
She might? Oh my. What was he up to? He was smiling in a way she’d never seen him smile before. It was bashful and sweet and . . . kind of mischievous. Oh my, oh my. Georgiana looked down at her stained travel clothes.
“Have I got time to change?”
“Of course, sweetheart.”
Sweetheart! Who was this man?
Don’t ask questions! Move. Before this one disappears and grumpy, distant Matt comes back.
She scurried into the wagon and then realized her trunk was in the tent. She was blushing when she scurried back out, babbling an explanation as she dashed to the tent. He was still smiling that stomach-turning smile.
Because they were riding, she couldn’t wear a dress. The best she could manage was her least stained riding culottes and a fresh shirt. Her waistcoat was filthy, so she left it behind. It was too warm for so many layers anyway. What on earth could she do with her hair? It was a nightmare. She tried to brush it, but the curls were so tangled that it would take her hours to get it neat. So she bundled it up and crammed on a hat.
It was silly to be going to so much effort just to go scouting, but look at him, all clean and combed like that.
By the time she emerged, the children had tumbled out of the wagon, and Becky was yawning and asking them what they wanted for breakfast. They barely even looked at Georgiana as she said good-bye.
“You look nice,” Matt said as she took Wishes’ reins off him. “C’mon or we’ll miss the sunrise.”
He swung onto Pablo’s back and led her into the grasses. There were bent and broken stalks
from the storm, but most of the grassland was supple in the breeze, waving and bobbing, glimmering with moisture. He led her to where the grassland ended, right by the banks of the river, which churned with the night’s rainfall.
“See that?” He pointed.
The sun had broken over the horizon, a pale gold sliver, sending streamers of color into the indigo sky; petal pinks and lavenders, shades of mauve and deep rose spreading like spilled paint. It was stunning. She held her breath as the color bled until the entire sky was streaked with gauzy shades. The raindrops on the grasses glittered like jewels, and the river glinted with gold light.
“Ain’t that the prettiest thing you ever saw?” He was grinning like he’d shown her one of the wonders of the world.
Was he courting her?
The realization pierced her like an arrow. He was. He was courting her! Matt Slater, her pretend fiancé, was courting her. He pointed out landmarks on their ride to the springs, cheerfully told her Indian legends about the creation of the land around them, and at one point he led her to a field of wildflowers and actually got down and picked her handfuls of the blue and purple blooms.
“Those ones there are prairie flax,” he said, pulling a hunk of them out of the wet earth. He snapped off the muddy roots. “I reckon they’re about as close as nature can get to the color of your eyes.”
She took the clump of flowers graciously, trying not to laugh. He was the clumsiest suitor she’d ever seen. But maybe also the most charming—just by dint of how unpolished he was. She watched him, amused, as he kept up the awkward chatter until they reached a grove of willows. By then the sun was up and the sky was a breathtaking bright blue.
He self-consciously rushed to hand her down from her horse. She bit back a smile and let him help her, enjoying the feel of his hands on her waist. He made her feel like she was sixteen again. It was a giddy, hopeful feeling, like her whole life was ahead of her and all the mistakes had been erased.
“Are you hungry?” he asked awkwardly. “I forgot you didn’t get breakfast.”
Before she could answer, he’d already started unfurling a blanket under the willows. The fragrance of sweet water filled the shadowy grove.
“The spring’s just over there, if you’d like a cupful while I unpack?”
The spring water bubbled up in the middle of the field of pillowy emerald grass. The smell of it was intoxicating. She took the offered cup and went to fill it. The grass was spongy under her feet. She dipped the cup into the icy cold water and took a drink, aware of him coming up behind her.
“It tastes so good after the horrid Platte,” she sighed.
He was watching her mouth as she licked a stray drop off her lower lip.
“Georgiana?” His voice had that tight huskiness again, that barely repressed desire. It made her weak.
“Yes?” Was he finally going to kiss her? He hadn’t kissed her since Independence. She swayed toward him slightly and tried to look inviting. Yes. Keep going . . .
“I’ve been thinking . . .” He took a deep breath and then just plunged in. “I don’t reckon we should pretend anymore.”
“What?” She straightened up. What? This had all been an attempt to sweeten her up so he could abandon her to Wendell? The giddy feeling evaporated.
“I don’t reckon we should pretend anymore,” he repeated. He put his hands on his hips and nodded. “I think we should do it for real.”
Her mouth popped open. What?
“Hear me out,” he said, holding up his hand. “I’ve done a lot of thinking. We’ve got a thing, you and me.”
“A thing?” She felt a little light-headed.
“There’s no cause to go denying it. Look at last night in the wagon.” His hair flopped as he shook his head. “I don’t know how much longer I can go without laying hands on you.”
Oh my. Her gaze flew to his large hands, which were spread on his hip bones.
“That ain’t all we got going for us neither. Your little ’uns seem to like me. And you don’t seem to mind me either.”
Mind him? She could barely think for wanting him. He was perfect.
“As you said last night, I ain’t got a wife. I didn’t give much thought to having one before I met you, but I ain’t averse to the idea. At least not anymore. And I know for sure you’re in the market for a husband.”
He didn’t say anything about love, she noticed. Somehow that made her even weaker at the knees. Leonard had proposed with flowery words and strings of bright promises. Matt’s proposition was blunt and practical, sturdy and honest.
“I like you,” he said, “and you like me. That seems as good a place to start as any.”
“Yes,” she whispered. It was about all she could say. Her brain seemed to have floated clear away.
“Yes?”
“Yes.” Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes! It was exactly what she’d wanted since the first time she’d seen him on the street in Independence. The big, rough brute.
“Yes?” He couldn’t seem to believe it.
“Yes!”
His eyes grew wide. He didn’t seem to know what to do next. “All right, then.”
She gave a startled cry as he seized her by the arms and yanked her to him. The mug went flying and her hat tumbled from her head as his mouth fell on hers. He kissed her hard. Hungrily. His hand plunged into her curls, easing her head back as his tongue parted her lips. He kissed her like he was dying of thirst and she was a fresh spring.
Georgiana melted into him, surrendering to the storm of feelings sweeping through her. It felt good to surrender, to give herself over. He held her up as her knees gave way, his kiss at once tender and demanding. The flick of his tongue caused shivers in the deepest parts of her, and the feel of his fingers against the back of her head sparked a wildfire in her blood.
The intensity of the kiss deepened until Georgiana lost all ability to think. When she finally resurfaced, his kiss had become a soft series of tongue strokes. The smell of him, the taste of him, was utterly intoxicating. He pulled away and she moaned in protest.
“Are you crying?” he asked, shocked.
She was. She was crying. She smiled witlessly at him and nodded.
“Why are you crying?”
She shrugged, still smiling as the tears rolled. “I don’t know. I suppose I’m just happy.”
He held her at arm’s length, inspecting her. “I guess there’s a lot I got to learn about women.”
“I guess so.”
“Can you make them stop?” He reached over and brushed the tear tracks away with his thumbs. “They make me feel like I did something wrong.”
She laughed. “You did. You took ages to ask me to marry you.”
“Technically, you asked me,” he corrected her. “I was just the one to make it for real.” He led her back to the picnic blanket, where they sat in the shade of the willows, unable to keep their eyes off each other.
“What made you change your mind?” she asked.
“This.” He leaned over and kissed her.
And that was how they spent the rest of the day.
26
MATT HAD DEFINITE ideas on how they were getting married. He wasn’t about to get hitched out here in the middle of nowhere. Mostly because the woman he was marrying was a proper sort of lady and he’d got it into his head that she deserved a proper sort of wedding.
“But there’s a pastor in the train,” Georgiana protested. “He could marry us tomorrow.”
He’d almost been convinced, but that was only because she was kissing his neck and he could barely keep a train of thought.
“Stop that,” he’d said eventually, putting her at arm’s length.
“Don’t you like it?”
That wicked look she had was almost his undoing. It was taking a superhuman strength of will not to give in when her ha
nds wandered. He hadn’t felt so lusty since he was a youth. He was hard all the time. Kissing her just made things worse. But it was a delicious kind of pain; he’d never felt so alive. It was like the world had taken on sharp edges and all the colors were brighter. Things smelled better.
And he was determined to wait until after the wedding. Because she was a lady. And he was . . . well, never mind what he was.
“No,” he said firmly, “we’re doing this properly.” And properly meant no bedding before the wedding.
The next half-decent settlement was Fort Bridger, so that was where he planned for them to get hitched. It was slightly out of their way, since he’d planned to take Sublette’s Cutoff, but he’d be damned if he’d wait till Fort Hall to marry her. The weeks until Fort Bridger were looking bad enough. And hell, he wasn’t actually superhuman. His resolve would give out eventually. He figured no one would complain if they took a detour; they could pause the train for a couple of days, and everyone could rest and take advantage of the trading post. Until then, he’d just have to suffer permanent arousal.
Once he’d decided to marry her, he’d felt the most immense relief. It felt right. And now the decision was made, he didn’t know why he’d ever hemmed and hawed about it. He congratulated himself on making the right choice. And took every opportunity he could to spend time with her, to touch her, to kiss that plump, smiling mouth. He had to do it when no one could see though, as they hadn’t told Wendell of their plans yet. Matt figured there was no point in starting trouble before they had to. He’d tell Wendell in good time, but why upset the applecart early?
July was both sheer pleasure and sheer torture. The storms eased and then gave way entirely to long, hot days and starry nights. The multiple river crossings were accomplished with little fuss; they navigated the Laramie, the Horse, the Cottonwood and the La Bonte without incident, and crossed the Sweetwater nine times in quick succession as it wound toward Devil’s Gate. His emigrants were seasoned travelers now and needed very little guidance from him, which meant he could spend less time babysitting them and more time with Georgiana. They reached Independence Rock in time to celebrate the Fourth of July, and Matt and Joe toasted their most successful train to date. They’d made it almost halfway without any serious injury or loss of life.
