by Lynda Chance
"I'm sorting the towels out. Some of them need mending and I thought I'd do that after lunch."
He began to ladle out the thick stew into the bowl in front of him. "What about my clothes? I thought you were working on that."
"I finished this morning."
"Already?"
"Yes."
"There was a huge pile."
"Yes, but very little work to be done on them. Just a small tear or a missing button on each."
"So now it's the towels, huh?" he grunted.
"Now it's the towels," she agreed and then added, "You don't mind do you?"
"Why would I care?"
"Will Maria mind?"
"Don't know why she would."
"Fine, then. The mending will keep me busy for awhile."
"Sit down and eat with me."
"I already ate."
"Then sit down and keep me company."
"I'm not close enough to keep you company, standing right here?"
"You always have to argue about everything?"
Emma looked up from the pile of dishrags and clashed with the brown eyes narrowed on hers. She gave a delicate shrug of her shoulders, poured herself a glass of cool water, and sat down at the table where she had sat when they played poker.
"Is that better?"
He only grunted again and picked up his spoon and began eating.
"How's Jesse?"
He swallowed and took a drink of water. "He's better. The fever's gone. Luckily, he was only grazed. It could have been much worse."
"That's good. Does Maria need my help? I can relieve her for awhile, sit with Jesse while she rests?"
"Nah. Cody went in at dawn and let her get some sleep." He continued to eat as he watched her across the table.
"Well, all right then."
He changed the subject. "Stew's good. You can cook," he said in a tone that held some surprise.
"And you're just simply amazed by that fact, is that right?" her words held humor, but were tart all the same.
He studied her for a moment, his eyes going from the top of her head, dropping to her face, and then down to her breasts before landing on her eyes again. "Emma-girl, nothing about you surprises me anymore."
"Is that a good thing or a bad one?"
"It's a good thing. Don't care much for surprises, good or bad."
Emma didn't answer but just sat quietly while he ate his meal. When he was finished, he scraped back his chair and put his hat back on his head, then moved to stand over her. He raised her chin and her eyes lifted to his. "You cook real nice, Emma." His gaze held hers in a piercing stare. "Pretty face, sweet disposition." His voice was low and deep as his thumb ran back and forth over her lips. "Yep," he said as if he were talking to himself, "never had sweeter kisses. If a man could trust you to do as you're told--" His words dwindled off as he leaned down and carefully placed his lips on hers. He gave her one soft kiss and then stepped back and walked to the door. "I'll be back late, Emma. Best not wait up for me."
Emma had just enough energy left after that devastating assault on her senses to ask one question. "Was that the third kiss I owe you?"
His eyes blistered hers. "Not a chance in hell, sweetheart."
And he walked out the door.
****
Emma spent the rest of the day baking and sewing. After his indirect reference to his reminder that she needed to obey his dictate of staying in the house, she did. With the recent memory of the snakes in mind, and his delayed promise of riding to soothe her, it took very little self-discipline to do as he asked.
She had something to keep her busy and she didn't feel like a prisoner at the moment.
She finished her chores rather quickly, and decided to take the opportunity of the added privacy his absence brought to take a bath. She heated enough water, secured the bolts on the door just in case, and enjoyed the luxury of a full bath. She washed her hair twice and scrubbed every inch of her body.
She spent a long time combing out her long hair and drying it with a towel as she sat in her nightgown in the big, over-stuffed chair in her bedroom.
She'd already left Luke a plate of food on the table, and now she rested back in her seat, the sound of crickets coming from outside her window where the moonlight filtered through.
****
Luke had already taken the time to eat the plate of food that Emma had left out for him before he went to find her.
It was late and he didn't call her name in case she was already asleep.
He found her sound asleep in the chair, her hair softly curling around her face, the damp towel draped across her lap, and her white eyelet nightgown a backdrop to her soft beauty that was beginning to be an addiction he couldn't fight against.
He slipped into the room and shut the door quietly behind him, stood with his back to it, and watched her sleep. Her allure was beguiling; the quiet prettiness of her face had crept up on him and seized him before he could muster any defense against it.
If she was any other woman, he knew he'd be tempted to keep her. But she wasn't. He had to remind himself again that she was small and weak and had a disadvantage aside from all that. No, he couldn't keep her. He tried to placate himself with the knowledge that soon, very soon, she would be his lover.
But it didn't do much to assuage the possession running through his veins. He wanted to keep her and he just managed to stop short of cursing his Maker for not letting it be possible.
He couldn't be that selfish.
He'd be thankful for this time they had together, and make the most of it.
She made a restless movement and the moonlight spilling into the room gave him just enough light to see the material of her nightgown stretch taut over her breasts. He could see the outline of her nipple, or maybe he just imagined it in his mind, but his reaction to it was the same. He was tantalized by the sight, and his jeans grew snug as his erection grew and pressed against his fly.
He inhaled sharply and tried to calm the wild beat of his racing heart.
When had he ever wanted a woman as much as he wanted Emma?
The answer came easily to him. He hadn't. He'd wanted sex, he'd wanted an orgasm, but he'd never wanted a certain woman. Always in the past, a warm, willing, female body would do. But he was sorely afraid that he'd have to go for the rest of his miserable life wanting Emma.
The husband she used to have was both a godsend and a curse to him. The man that went before him made it possible for Luke to have Emma's body now, the absence of her virginity meant that he wouldn't have to seduce an innocent when that went against his code of honor. But the dead man was also a curse, a curse because Luke had a vicious, burning jealousy that someone else had touched her. He didn't blame her, for whatever reason, he blamed himself, as if he should have found her in an earlier time, even though he rationally knew that hadn't been possible.
He was torn up by his feelings. Lacerated by emotions that ran the gamut between being relieved she'd come into his life, and cursing the universe for allowing him to hold her and taste her when he couldn't keep her. He'd forever be damned with her memory and the knowledge that she was out there in the world, out there with some other man who had the right to hold her, touch her, support her as his own.
He hissed in a breath at the obscene thought of someone else having the right to sink into her body, feel her close around them, and know what she smelled like, tasted like, sounded like, when she came.
The noise he made must have roused her, because she sat up on the chair and slowly focused her eyes on the door and must have realized he was in the room with her.
She gasped softly. "Luke?"
"Yeah."
"Is everything all right?"
"Yeah."
"What time is it?"
"Half past eleven."
"What--what are you doing in my room?"
"Come to collect."
"Collect?"
"My goodnight kisses, remember?"
"Kisses?" She stress
ed the plural.
"You think we're gonna stop at just one?" he challenged her.
Emma cleared her throat and tried to shake the sleep from her brain as Luke stood across the room, his big body silently threatening her peace. Twin feelings of trepidation and stimulation were infiltrating her bloodstream and landing in a soft pool of heat between her thighs.
He didn't make a move toward her, he just leaned against the door and silently watched her. She sat up straighter in her chair and waited.
Tension grew in the pit of her belly and the seconds ticked by as he continued to watch her in complete silence.
She swallowed deeply and her heart was raging at her to do something, say something, when he pushed off the door with his booted foot and began prowling toward her.
He came to a stop in front of her chair. "You smell good, Emma. You have a bath?"
She licked her lips. "Yes."
"You able to manage that all by yourself?"
"I'm not totally helpless, Luke."
"I know that. I'm just wondering if you had help hauling the water, that's all."
"Who would have helped me?"
"I don't know, that's why I'm asking. There's over a hundred men working on my ranch. I'm asking if one of them was here, that's all."
"No. Nobody came into the house today. Not even Maria. I managed on my own."
"That wasn't so hard to answer, now was it?"
"No. I'm sorry, I thought you were being sarcastic."
"Not sarcastic. Jealous."
"Jealous?"
"I don't care for the thought of another man being alone with you, Emma."
Pleasure, swift and intense, ran down Emma's spine and curled under her heart. But she didn't have long to enjoy the sensation, because he was leaning over her, encircling her in the cage of his arms as he placed his hands on her chair.
"While you're here, you're mine."
Emma was too shocked to respond and remained quiet.
"You understand what I'm telling you?"
"Yes."
His hand reached out and he ran the tip of his finger across her cheek, down her neck and landed in an unequivocal statement on her right breast.
He spread his hand out and cupped her softness.
Emma's heart jumped under his palm and arousal coiled deep within her entire body. He came down on his haunches in front of her, and pulled her bottom to the edge of the seat. He fisted the hem of her nightgown in his hand and pushed it all the way up to the tops of her thighs and then his hands moved to her knees and he spread her legs wide and he came between them.
He wrapped one brawny arm around her waist as his other hand landed back on the breast he had momentarily abandoned.
He bumped her face with his chin, and when she lifted it, his mouth sank down on hers in an open kiss filled with burning greed.
He squeezed her breast and then began tweaking her nipple between his fingers and thumb as his tongue began to swirl inside her mouth, learning her lips and tongue all over again in an assault of her senses that destroyed her ability to think and left her a willing puppet in his arms.
If what he'd made her feel in the barn the other day had been desire, then this was far past that as she lost all conscious thought process and turned into a being who only felt.
She heard the moan and realized with no small amount of shock that it came from her own throat.
As if he was waiting for some kind of signal, he stood to his feet and swung her up in his arms. The movement jolted his mouth from hers, and he moved his mouth to her ear and caressed her there with one heated word that didn't in any way sound like he meant it. "Goodnight."
He dropped her from his arms beside her bed and let her body slide down his until her bare feet found traction against the cold wooden floor.
He lifted her chin and caressed her with a molten look as his hands slid to her shoulders and cupped her there. "Goodnight." He said for a second time and the word was ripped from him, as if he were in pain even thinking about letting her go.
"Goodnight," her voice was soft, barely a whisper as a sensual light passed between their eyes.
His gaze was almost tender, yet it held a heat and magnetism that enthralled her and she barely noticed when his palms left her shoulders and travelled down to her hands. He picked them up and pulled them up his chest and over his shoulders where he wrapped them around his neck.
She felt another hot shiver of response as she touched the tendons in his neck and felt his tactile strength under her fingers. She watched him silently in longing, dying inside for another one of his deep, intimate kisses.
Her eyes dropped unconsciously to his lips.
"Goodnight," he said again as his eyes followed hers and dropped to her lips.
She had to fight her body from swaying into his, but no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't stop the slight tilt of her pelvis toward his. His nostrils flared and his hands sank into her hips. She licked her suddenly dry lips and tried to answer back. "Goodnight."
Her body took on a delicate trembling as she ached for his touch. What he made her feel was disturbing, but she was powerless to resist the temptation his body offered. As she lifted her eyes back to his, the gentleness she had seen was barely visible and the smoldering flame that grew there made her breath hitch.
The air around them seemed to be filled with the kind of bold, striking electricity found in a wild summer thunderstorm.
The tight grip of his fingers jerked her into him, until her body was aligned with his. She inhaled a sharp breath, and that quickly, his mouth was on hers again.
It wasn't a gentle kiss either, and it still didn't scare her. The emotions running around her brain were too raw, too needy for her to be frightened. She felt like she was about to fall off a precipice, and although she was powerless to resist it, she wasn't worried because he was there to catch her.
He kissed her with hard passion and she knew she was totally under his control. She relinquished it to him readily, as she opened her lips more fully and let him taste her as he wanted.
His hand reached down and grabbed the hem of her nightgown again, and pulled it up until it was bunched at the waist and he was able to tangle her legs with his.
She didn't know which was more intoxicating, his scent, his taste, or his touch. It all blended together and with a heady delight she gave in to the irresistible attraction that flared hotly between them.
She inhaled and exhaled sharply as she tried to take in oxygen between his kisses, and he slid his lips to her cheek, pushed her hair away from her ear and bit into her lobe while she dragged in air.
His hands moved around and gripped her buttocks covered in only the soft cotton of her pantalets and sensual delight pierced her all over again. He leaned into her ear again and his whispered words were sultry, hot and deep as they vibrated through her. "I love goodnight kisses." His hands kneaded her flesh.
"Yes," she puffed out in agreement and shifted her mouth, seeking his again.
Ravenous hunger filled her as he shifted their weight and their legs tangled together more intimately, his hard, masculine thigh shoving between her legs. The feeling was intoxicating, his body aligned and pressed fully against hers while his tongue continued to make a bold foray into the interior of her mouth.
Her stomach clenched in need, and she felt her body go slack and pliant in his arms.
His brawny arm wrapped around her and he lifted her off her feet as if she were as light as a feather, and took her weight against his body as he continued to shower her with hot, wet kisses.
His fingers explored the hollows of her waist, and he kept one arm clamped around her midriff as his hand slid over her bottom and clenched around her flesh.
She gasped into his open mouth, and she felt a hot, shocking wetness come between her thighs. She trembled against him and he mistook it for a pain coming from her injured limb. "Does your leg hurt?"
"Some," she answered truthfully, but truly, she hadn't noticed it
until he mentioned it. He turned around with her dangling in his arms and sank down onto the bed's surface. He pulled her between his spread thighs and put her hands on his shoulders and lifted her right knee until it rested lightly on the bed. She balanced delicately on her left leg, and put a lot of her weight on his shoulders.
She felt no pain.
"Is that better?" his words were gentle, his touch more so as he ran his hands up and down the curves of her body.
"Yes." Emma struggled to think straight as his mouth found hers again and he began kissing her, holding her in such a way that made her know for sure that he wasn't going to stop.
She wasn't scared. Far from it. She was ready for this, for him, for whatever this lovemaking was all about.
She never wanted to have to live her life without him, but if she did, then at least she'd have this to remember him by.
His hands lifted to the row of buttons on her nightgown and his fingers began unbuttoning them, one by one.
When he came to the bottom he parted the sides and pushed it off her shoulders, and let it drop to the floor.
Chapter Eleven
She stood before him in nothing but her pantalets. She crossed her arms over her chest, and desperately wished for the safety of the covers.
He lifted her hair off her shoulders and brushed it behind her shoulders as he stared at her arms protecting her breasts. "I don't want you to worry, Emma. I won't let anything happen to you. I won't get you pregnant."
When he said that stark word, Emma jerked and pulled back from his arms, what they were about to do suddenly dawning on her. The realization that this might lead to a baby foolishly hadn't occurred to her.
But not only was Luke thinking of what the consequences might be, he was promising her that they wouldn't happen to her. He thought she knew all about these things, all about the process of lovemaking and having babies, but she didn't.
But she didn't want him to find out. She knew, deep in her soul, that if he knew she had never been married, and was in fact, still a virgin, that this wouldn't be happening. She wanted it to happen with all her heart, but she certainly didn't want to have a baby. At least, not when she was unwed.
