They drove home slowly, content with each other’s company and comfortable with the silence between them.
He surprised her when he finished unhitching the buggy and turned the horse into the corral.
“Will you dance with me?”
“Here?”
“Anywhere, Catherine.”
She floated within his arms in the yard beneath the moon’s glow, the music of rustling cottonwood leaves provided by a cool breeze. The waltzing circle grew smaller and smaller, until they stood swaying together.
Catherine averted her gaze from the shrouded henhouses. She wanted nothing to break this almost magical spell.
From far off came the cry of a coyote and the horses moved restlessly within the corral.
He stole a kiss and whispered it was time to go inside. “And, Catherine, tonight, only one rule applies.”
With her hand in his as he led the way, he opened the back door. “Aren’t you going to ask what it is?”
“You’ll tell me. You always do.” She heard the dreamy tone of her voice and smiled.
“No rules at all.” He stole her hair ornament and shawl halfway through the kitchen.
She stole his tie.
Greg pocketed her hairpins in the hallway.
Catherine unbuttoned his vest.
On the first step he launched a tender assault on her mouth. He lifted her high and swirled her slowly around and she lost her slippers.
“I love the way your skin looked in the moonlight.” He paid homage to every bit his lips could find.
She teased him with kisses scattered everywhere but his lips and slid his jacket from his shoulders.
Halfway up the stairs, he told her about his dream.
She did her best to inspire him, reward him and make his fantasy come true. Never had her hands been as quick or clever. His shirt and studs fell to the floor below. Her stockings and bodice soon followed.
“No fair,” she whispered. “I’m wearing far more than you.”
“No rules, remember, but I’ll soon remedy your pressing problem.” His lips briefly caressed hers, before moving to her throat, her ear, where he delicately feathered his breath over the shapely shell. He nibbled her lobe, patient, sweetly seductive as he sat with her across his lap.
But the snap of her skirt buttons, the rip of the petticoat ties told her his need was as heated as her own.
Yet he continued to kiss her with unhurried leisure, his hand courting the flare of her hip, the indentation of her waist, the unfettered rise of her breast. The small needy sound she made drove him crazy. His fingers deftly untied her corset strings as his own fantasy came to life.
Her luscious mouth promised heaven with kisses that were tinted with wine-flavored punch. Her touches on his bare skin sent small claws of desire to heighten his pleasure. He gathered her loose hair in a gentle fist, drawing her head back against his shoulder. Every slow, plunging thrust of his tongue lured her to lose herself in the dark magic of passion’s dance.
Under the warm caress of his hand, the ribbon tie of her camisole opened. He deserted her mouth to taste this newly revealed treasure. His thumb and forefinger stroked one crest into pouting hardness.
Catherine couldn’t draw a breath as blood rushed to fill sensitive skin. Her hand clasped his neck and she moaned.
“More, Catherine?” he inquired, his voice deep and rich with the desire that thickened it as he gently rubbed the tip of her breast.
“Please,” she whispered, her eyes closed. Her body arched into his with erotic grace.
“I’ll share another pleasure with you,” he murmured. He nestled her breast’s softness within his palm, rolling his lips over the nipple, tenderly stroking it with his tongue.
“Better?”
“Yes. Yes.” Her fingers found that the strength of his body was all she had to anchor her dizzy descent into his pleasure-rich world of passion. Her body was no longer her own to govern, but his. She felt full, swollen with a lush heaviness that drew her blood to the peak suckled within his mouth.
He coaxed and teased her to new heights, feeling the strain of controlling his desire to be buried deep within her.
She whispered in a fretful voice that her clothes were in the way. His rich laughter filled the hallway.
Her hand tunneled through his hair. She stroked his shoulders, his upper arms, then touched his throat with her lips. She drew back and whispered her words against his mouth.
“You said I would never doubt that you wanted me. Can you have any doubts that I want you as much?” Her voice was husky with want, her gaze imploring.
“Now, Catherine?”
“Now.”
Their lips met in greedy, sharp-set passion.
She was a fire in his blood. He lifted her free of her silken cloth and brought her down to straddle his thighs. His mouth closed over hers possessively, fueling his need to lose himself in the sweetly heated scent of her.
“Mine,” he whispered. “Tell me you’re mine.”
Catherine heard his demand. She clung tighter to him, answering his hard and hungry kisses. Feelings rose to the surface. She desired him, yet desire was not the force that made her answer the rawness of his passion.
It was the power of the need in his voice that made her admit that she loved him. Loved him beyond reason.
“Do you want me?” The words were harshly uttered; he had no softness left.
She gripped his shoulders, shuddering. “All I want is you.”
He pressed her closer, lifting her up and into him, rubbing her over the hardened swell of his sex, and both of them shuddered. Her mouth opened under the force of his, his tongue taking her into the deep-heavy rhythm that she instinctively responded to.
She felt the new callus on the hands that slid up the length of her thighs. His lips closed over one erect nipple, suckling so strongly that her back arched and she cried out. There was a quickening inside her that gloried in the wildness of his mouth, the surge of his body, hot and hard against hers. The sleek skin of his back bore the crescent nail marks she left as she hotly sheathed him.
His groan came from deep inside his throat. He lifted her with deliberate slowness, then lowered her once more. With his hands on her hips, he rose to meet her peaking ardor, and she cried out again as violently intense sensations flooded her body.
Greg clamped his teeth together, a savage need washing over him. Feverishly he drove upward, plunging her over the edge. One of his hands caught her hair, dragging her mouth to his. He crushed her lips as she melted against him, and with a last violent thrust, he joined her.
The intensity diminished slowly between them. Catherine lay against him, tiny tremors still racking her body. The soft caress of his hands on her bare back lulled her into a quiescent state. Their heartbeats slowed in unison, as did their ragged breathing. She toyed with his hair, her lips nuzzling his neck.
“Sweetheart, I need to get you upstairs to bed.”
“Must we move at all?” He was still hard within her, and she gently shifted her hips, increasing the tremors to a heated trembling inside her.
“That is one of the things I adore about you, Catherine. You’re as hungry as I am. But no more for you.” His words lacked conviction. He swelled inside her, his passion rekindled as if he hadn’t made love to her.
“Are you still hungry? Show me.”
He smiled at the provocative invitation. The slow, gliding rotation of her hips enforced her demand. She nipped his earlobe.
“I should take you up to bed.” But his hands came to rest on the flare of her hips as his mouth sought hers.
“Yes. Yes, take me.”
His kisses coaxed, giving and then taking when her mouth softened with a sigh. Against him, her body yielded. And all he wanted to do was cherish her.
His tender, slow touches, the patient, fluid dance of love tempered the wild need running through her. He lingered where he knew it pleased her most, softly, ever sensitive to her need. She floated in that
darkened space, rich with the scents they created, his voice a dark murmur of lover’s promise, a music that captured and held her heart. She wrapped her arms around him as he slowly built the pace, letting the desire sweep her up, only to begin all over again.
She was lost in him, and knew he felt it, too. He told her with his groan, his whispers and sighs. She answered with the catch of her breath, a moan, a plea, until passion poured through them like heated wine.
He had shown her hunger and tenderness, and now a loving storm. She went with him willingly, her mouth desperate on his, her body surrendering to each shattering climb and fall. And begged him for more.
Her fingertip touched the taut line of his lips, the edge of his teeth gently caught and held it. She was lost in pleasure. Her head fell back. She cried out as he held himself still, and then she clutched him tight and he was dragged over the edge with her.
She didn’t remember the climb into bed or dozing off safe in his arms. But when she woke in the darkness, she knew what she had to do.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Exhausted, Catherine stood by the kitchen window. She offered fervent prayers that it wouldn’t rain today. Thick clouds rolled in from the north, filling the dawn sky.
She went back to stirring the grits she had cooking, then turned the ham steaks to brown on the other side. Greg was still sleeping, which was just as well. She had enough to worry about, without thinking of how to greet him.
Lord Romeo, like Miss Lily, was missing.
She had extended her search beyond the barn and the small outbuildings. She went with a lantern into the woods, calling them. All she heard was the rustling of small animals. Not one cackle, not one meow offered any hope they were close by.
She was startled by Greg wrapping his arms around her waist. He nuzzled her neck, made mock growling sounds and whispered of waking alone with a ferocious appetite.
“I was making breakfast.”
“I know. I smelled the ham cooking.” He turned her within the circle of his arms and shared the first kiss of the day with her.
He lifted his head, searching each feature of her face, now as familiar as his own to him. “Today’s the big day. But I want you to know that I won’t hold you to marrying me, Catherine, if I win.”
“You won’t?”
“No. I made a decision last night. I can’t force you over a bet. I want you to marry me because you love me.”
She felt his arms free her as he turned to get coffee, so calm while she stood swaying. He slipped one hand into his pants’ pocket, bunching the tail of his white, unbuttoned shirt over his hip, and sipped from his cup.
The decision she had made and acted upon had been a most difficult one. She had spent the long hours of the night examining her reasons to be sure it wasn’t the impulsive act of a gratified lover. She had acted as a woman in love, and now he dared to tell her this!
And where was his declaration of love?
“The ham’s burning, Catherine.”
There was a smug smile on his lips, quickly hidden as he raised the cup again.
“So it is. The grits are burning, too.”
“You’re not very loverlike in the morning, sweetheart. Good thing I employ a chef to cook.”
“And a maid?”
“Several. A housekeeper and butler, too.”
“I’m surprised you don’t have a boy to shine your shoes, and another to pick up after you. You must have at least three women just to wash and iron your white shirts.”
“Only two. My valet supervises.”
“Do you see how wrong we are for each other?”
Before he could summon an answer, she fled.
He ran as far as the back door. “Where are you going?”
“To look for my hen. It’s a darn sight better than watching you crow.”
He turned back and rescued his breakfast. She wouldn’t run far. But at least he had erased that cloud of doubt from her eyes. And that’s all that really mattered to him…Catherine’s happiness.
Lord Romeo strolled inside and headed for his favorite perch on the windowsill. He eyed the dish Greg filled.
“I suppose you expect me to share my food as well as my love with you?”
The cat’s meow could have been agreement. Greg took it as such. He broke a small piece of ham from his slice and blew on it to cool the meat before he offered it to the cat.
“Go on. Eat it. I’ve seen her spoil you. And you are going to get used to sharing with me. I intend to be around for a long time.”
Lord Romeo snatched the meat from his palm but made no move to eat it.
Greg shook his head and sat down. He was halfway through his slice of ham when he looked up at the cat. He sat washing his paw. There was no sign of the ham.
“Don’t think I’m bribing you or anything, but have some more.” This time the cat didn’t hesitate. Greg almost attempted to pet him, but thought better of it. One set of scars was enough for any man. Then the cat surprised him, actually shocked him. He left his perch and padded over to the table, where he jumped into Greg’s lap.
Greg was thankful he was alone. He was sure there was a ridiculous expression on his face. He didn’t know what to do with his hands. He held them out at his sides. The cat did a half turn, then curled in his lap. Lord Romeo wasn’t purring, but he wasn’t growling, either.
And that’s how Catherine found them.
She had returned from another futile search when thoughts of how unfair she’d been to Greg haunted her.
Greg watched her. Now he knew what he must have looked like. Her expression truly defied description. Shock, surprise, relief and laughter all crossed her features in seconds.
“Where did you find him?”
“I didn’t. He found me.”
“Whatever did you do to him? I can’t believe I see him in your lap, Greg.”
“It just goes to show you that I can win the affections of the most stubborn heart.”
She looked to see him grinning. “Sure of yourself, Mayfield?”
“Desperate is more like it.”
There was no smugness left in his eyes. Only the truth of what he said. Why that should make her smile, she didn’t know, but it did.
“Don’t get too cozy, wagons are turning in the drive. The men won’t care what you look like, but I don’t need swooning women on my hands.”
“Did you find Miss Lily?”
“No. And I’ve got to accept that she’s gone. I keep telling myself that—”
“Blaming yourself is more like it. Help me get him off my lap. Friendly as this appears, I don’t trust him.”
She tilted her head to the side, giving him a wary look. “Can I trust you?”
“Always. I would never betray your trust, Catherine. Unlike your friend here,” he added to lighten the mood. He saw her back up a step when he answered, and heard the little sigh she released at the end. She skittered away from him like a banker after he’d heard your deal went bust. He didn’t even know what he’d done to cause her to feel this way.
He heard the first wagons arrive and Ramon calling his name. “Catherine, take him.” If his demand was sharp, who could blame him? He hadn’t the privacy of the barn cat with her litter of kittens. A few hours more. He could wait. He had a lifetime ahead that was worth waiting for.
The yard took on the aspect of a party or a traveling circus, Catherine thought. Her friends and neighbors had brought covered dishes. The men had set out planks on the sawhorses to accommodate all the food. The three fiddlers from Caroline’s engagement party—looking as hungover as she felt—were tuning up, ready to play. It was bedlam. Children ran around the yard, climbed on the corral fence and took turns swinging from the window in the barn loft where the pulley rope hung.
And there was Greg, moving among them with a smile firmly planted on his mouth, laughing and talking as if he had known these people all his life.
She wiped her damp palms down the sides of her pants. Admit it. You’re s
cared.
What if he didn’t understand what she’d done?
What if she had to explain it to him in front of everyone?
“Catherine?” Nita called, then came into the kitchen. “Why are you hiding in here? We’re all waiting for you.”
“I’m going to be sick.”
“You look a little green. Expectin’, are you?”
“No! I’m just—”
“Nervous as any bride on her wedding day. Come on. Delaying ain’t gonna cure what ails you.” Nita took hold of her arm and led her outside. “Do you love him?”
Caroline stepped up to the other side.
Catherine looked from one to the other. “Do I require an escort?”
“Several women have placed bets, too, Catherine,” said Caroline. “They were afraid you’d bolt. After all, it isn’t every day that a woman’s marriage hinges on how well she builds a henhouse.” Caroline looked to Nita for support.
“Gal’s got the right of it. But you ain’t answered my question. Do you love him?”
“No, of course not. I’m making myself the laughingstock of the town because I despise the man and everything he stands for.”
She nearly stumbled when Nita slapped her back with approval.
“Gal’s got gumption just like Ollie said. You’ll be happy to know that Mrs. Pettigrew took the stage this morning. Gone off to visit her daughter Irene in New Orleans. Adelaide finally showed some backbone and told her to stop interfering in her marriage. Kept Camilla here with her, too. See—” she pointed “—they’re waiting on you, too.”
Catherine felt her stomach churn. She faced a sea of faces but really wasn’t seeing any of them. Only one face had the power to move her. And when she saw Greg, saw his wink, she squared her shoulders.
“You might have gussied up a bit, Catherine. Wore one of my gowns like you did at Caroline’s party.”
“Nita, you’re all lucky I’m still here. Come on, I want to get this over with before that jug gets passed around. This is worse than any hanging in Santa Fe.”
“She’s got a bad case of the all-overs, ain’t she?” Nita showed her teeth with her smile. “Gonna be hogtied and brought to the altar before she takes a full breath.”
Catherine Page 23
