Oren’s face tilted and his mouth came closer. She lifted her chin to receive the kiss. The hands cupping his cheeks moved around the thick cords of his neck to lock behind his nape. He tasted of salt and spice and man, and she opened her mouth, hungry for more. She moaned when his tongue slid between her lips. A delicious ache uncoiled in her belly and spread to her breasts, making them heavy and sensitive and eager for the feel of him.
With a boldness she hadn’t thought herself capable of, Addie pushed herself against him until his heart and hers pounded against one another. His powerful arms wrapped around her back. His tongue twined around hers, coaxing, exploring, enticing Addie into wanting to touch every part of this man—and have him touch every part of her.
He must have sensed her yearning, for he pulled back, his incredible blue eyes dark with desire. “Addie . . .” he breathed.
“Oren . . .” she whimpered.
“Pa?”
They released each other so fast that Addie fell back onto a mound of straw. Oren reached for her instantly and helped her to her feet. She looked so dad-blamed adorable, standing there trying to pluck straw from her mussed hair, her cheeks bright pink, her green-gold eyes alight with need. He’d never wanted a woman as badly as he did this one.
The time had come for a chat with the boy.
And much to his regret, it should be now. “Let’s get this mare some oats, son.”
They left Addie in the stall, giving her privacy to do whatever it was that women did after they’d just kissed a man dumb.
Bryce was quiet for a while until they reached the end of the shop where Oren kept the feed stored. Then he asked, “Are you sweet on her?”
Oren shoved the bucket into the bin of flakes. “Reckon I am.”
“Is she going to be my new mother?”
“I’ve been thinkin’ about it.”
“I’ve been thinking about it, too.”
Oren looked down upon his son’s bent head. He’d been thinkin’ about having a mother? About having the schoolmarm for a mother? “And?”
“She smells nice.”
“Yep, she surely does.”
“She has a real pretty smile, too.”
“She does, at that.”
“And she reads like an angel.”
“Couldn’t agree with you more.”
“I think we should keep her.”
Oren couldn’t stop the silly grin from spreading across his face. “Take these oats to the mare while I finish washin’ up. Then we’ll see how Miss Addie feels about being kept.”
With a toothy grin, Bryce grabbed the bucket and scampered back to the stall.
His spirits soaring higher than Jarvis’s balloon, Oren stripped off his shirt and scrubbed himself from neck to waist with lye soap and rainwater, whistling a merry tune. The thought of Addie someday scrubbing him down like Maggie used to had him grinning like a mule eatin’ cactus. Except he’d bet bathin’ with Addie would be as wild an adventure as breakin’ a mustang. Glory be, that gal had a way of making his blood run hot.
A whack against the shop made him glance toward the open doors. Lying in a wedge of morning sunlight was the weekly newspaper.
Oren flipped a clean shirt over his damp torso, picked up the paper, and snapped it open.
His gaze stopped on a pair of names in small but bold print.
His whistling ceased, and it felt as if someone had shoved a hot poker through his heart.
Adelaide? His sweet Adelaide was marrying Doc Jr.?
The rustle of footsteps drew his deadened gaze to the woman who only moments ago had been crushed against him, pulling at his hair, making his heart thump like a stallion’s hooves and his body go hard.
“The mare is nursing!” she cried. “I declare, that is the most amazing thing I’ve ever seen in my—Oren? What is it?”
He shook his head numbly. “I thought . . . there was something between us, Adelaide.”
Pink color rose in her cheeks. “Well, yes, I suppose there is.”
“Then why are you marryin’ Daniel?”
Her face went as pale as day-old milk. “Where did you hear that?”
“It’s in the paper.” He held the Herald open to her view.
“Oren . . . it isn’t what it seems.”
“Then what is it?”
“I can’t tell you,” she whispered.
He let his arm fall to his side. “Do you love him?”
“Once . . . maybe . . .” Her expression crumbled. “I don’t know . . .”
Oren steeled himself against pulling her into his arms. He wanted answers, even if he had to drag them out of her. “Has he already asked you to be his wife?”
“Not exactly.”
“You don’t know if you love him, and he hasn’t exactly proposed. Are you . . . have you and he . . .” He could hardly think it, much less say it.
“Oh my stars, no! How can you suggest such a thing?”
“What else am I supposed to think?” he cried. “You kiss me like there’s no tomorra; then I find out you’re fixin’ to marry another fella, and the explanation I get is a bunch of hemmin’ and hawin’? The least you can do is tell my why!”
“Because I made a promise!”
Oren dragged in a deep breath through his nostrils and looked at the rafters, shamed to the bone that his eyes were getting damp. Aw, damn. He hadn’t expected this. Hadn’t expected it at all. He’d gone and fallen for a gal who’d promised herself to another man—worse, a man he’d called friend.
There was only one thing he could do. He turned away from her and, with the words ripping from someplace deep inside, told her, “I made the mistake of not letting go once. I won’t make that same mistake again. If Daniel is who you want, I won’t stand in your way.”
Then he walked out of the shop and headed straight for the Rusty Bucket.
With the paper clenched in a white-knuckled fist, Daniel pounded on the Gordon’s door with force enough to make the brass knocker rattle against its plate. God damn that girl. All this time he’d thought she was the one who’d set her cap for him. Instead, she’d set her sister’s cap for him.
The peep-window slid open a few moments later. “Who on earth is beating down my door?”
“Miss Louisa, it’s me, Daniel. I need to speak with your niece.”
“Be more specific, Daniel; I’ve got two of them.”
Through gritted teeth, he said, “Linsey.”
“She’s out back doing the wash.”
Long, hard strides brought Daniel around the side of the house to the backyard. Clotheslines had been strung between two posts, weighed down with frilly things that looked like kites on parade.
Fighting his way between a wet cotton shift and a cloying set of pantaloons, Daniel finally broke free on the other side of the line. His foot immediately sank into several inches of soggy ground. The source, he discovered, turned out to be a ten-gallon washtub overturned on its side, the sudsy water creating puddles in the already saturated ground.
Then he heard her.
“Shoo! Shoo! Get out of here, you dirty scamp!”
Circling the tub, Daniel slogged through the puddles into the next aisle.
The sight of Linsey stopped him dead in his tracks. She stood on an upended crate between a row of whites and one of prints, a wash paddle raised over her head, soaked from head to heel.
He didn’t know which shocked him more: seeing her hopping in the air, swinging the wash paddle over her head, or his own reaction to the temptation before his eyes. Her navy blue skirt, heavy with water, molded around the flare of her hips and the enticing curve of her rear, and her paisley blouse stuck to her like skin, outlining the upper slopes and under-swells of her breasts with a detail that made Daniel’s mouth go dry. He’d felt those breasts crushed against him, knew their fullness. Had been haunted by dreams of touching the creamy texture and tasting the heated sweetness that belonged to Linsey and Linsey alone.
“Don’t you dare perch on my l
ine, you scallywag,” she scolded the unidentifiable intruder. “I don’t have enough time left as it is, without you trying to cut it shorter.” She took a swing with the paddle.
Jarred from the fantasy, Daniel ducked in time to avoid getting brained, then popped back up. How in blazes could such an innocent temptress be so damned dangerous? “What the Sam Hill are you doing?”
She spun around so fast that she fell off the upturned tub.
Daniel sprang forward, caught her by the waist, and hauled her close—dangerously close—against him.
The feel of her in his arms had an instant impact. The breasts he’d admired were flattened against his chest, searing his skin despite the layers of clothing between them. Her stomach, hips and thighs branded themselves against the length of him, their bodies fitting together as if they had been poured into the same mold.
An image of ripping off her clothes, of feeling nothing between them but skin and sweat, appeared in his mind with stunning clarity. Daniel’s heartbeat picked up speed. The hands pressed against her back sizzled. His manhood hardened.
Linsey’s hands squeezed his upper arms. She licked her lips, drawing his attention to the moist pink flesh. He could almost feel their softness under his, taste the sweet pad of her tongue, imagine the tiny sigh of surrender.
No—he’d actually heard that.
He dragged his gaze from her mouth to her eyes. He found her staring at him, his own lust reflected in the emerald pools.
“What are you doing to me, Linsey?” he asked in husky voice he hardly recognized as his own.
“Nothing.” She shook her head in denial, sending damp tendrils of copper hair brushing against his skin. “I’m not doing anything.”
“Yes, you are. You’re bewitching me, and I don’t like it.” Daniel abruptly released his hold on her and stepped back, needing distance between them before he lost all control. She closed her eyes and brought her hands to her flaming cheeks. Any other time, he might have taken arrogant pride in the way he made a woman’s knees go weak and her hands tremble and her eyes glaze over with desire.
Now it made him mad as hell.
He unrolled the newspaper clenched in his fist and held it up for her to see. “Explain this.”
She gave a shake of her head, as if to clear her thoughts. A glimpse of the Herald made her go still. “It’s a newspaper.”
“I know it’s a newspaper. I want to know who printed this hogwash.”
“I suppose Frank Mackey did, since he’s the edit—”
“No, how did it get in there?”
“Well . . .” She licked her lips. “I don’t know all the particulars, but I think he sets blocks with letters in a plate—”
“Don’t play games with me, damn it! I know you had something to do with this, so don’t deny it. Did you have this announcement printed up in the Herald?”
“All right—yes.” Linsey’s spine straightened and she brought her shoulders back. “I did.”
His mouth fell open. Wanting the truth was one thing; hearing it was another. “What the Sam Hill for?”
“It was the only way I could think of to get you to notice Addie.”
“Addie? For God’s sake, why? What did I ever do to make you hate me so much?”
“Hate you?” she gasped. “I’ve never hated you!”
The honest-to-God astonishment in her voice made his mind stutter. “Then why are you so hell bent on meddling in my life? Do you get some twisted sort of thrill out of watching me go to ruin?”
“I did this for my sister, Daniel—not out of animosity toward you. In fact, I’m actually doing you a favor—you won’t find a more capable wife. I’ve been hoping you would come to realize that on your own, but when you didn’t, I had to do something to make you sit up and take notice.”
She’d done that all right. “So you wrote a gossip column for the newspaper?”
“If you had just cooperated and started courting her like you were supposed to, I never would have gone to such public measures.”
“Does your sister have any idea what you’ve done?”
“Not exactly—but once she does, she’ll thank me for it.”
Daniel let loose a bark of disbelieving laughter.
“She will!” Linsey insisted, planting her hands on her hips. “Addie has loved you since the day you and your father moved to Horseshoe. You’ve just been too blind to notice.”
“She couldn’t have been more than a kid,” he argued.
“She was ten years old, and in her eyes, you hung the moon and the stars. It almost crushed her when she found out you were marrying another woman.”
Part of him felt flattered that he could be the object of someone’s affections for that long; another part of him reeled in amazement that he hadn’t had a clue.
But it didn’t change what she had done. She’d manipulated his life, just as his father had always done, and he’d not stand for it. “Whatever your reasons, I have no feelings for Addie, and no plans to marry—not her; not anyone.” He took a menacing step forward. “I’m going to be a surgeon, do you understand that? I’m going to work with the best in the field, and then I’m going to build my own surgical practice. But I won’t get any of that accomplished being saddled with a wife and a passel of kids. And if I ever do think about taking a wife, by God’s teeth, she will be one of my choosing, not one you’ve assigned to me. Do you understand me?”
Her eyes flat, her tone flatter, she replied, “Perfectly.”
Addie stumbled for the third time as she raced home, blinded by the tears coursing down her face. She didn’t even know why she cried, why she felt this terrible, searing pain in her heart. She kept seeing a craggy face wreathed in agony when he set eyes on the newspaper, kept feeling over and over the sting of him turning his back on her and walking out of her life.
How could it hurt so badly to be rejected by a man she’d scarcely known a month?
It did, though. She’d never felt a pain so fierce, so unbearable as when Oren had walked out of the smithy, wounded and angry.
How could Linsey have done this?
Her soles pounded up the steps of Briar House. Halfway across the veranda, her shoulder knocked against something hard and unyielding. Firm hands gripped her around the arms to keep her steady.
Looking up through blurry eyes, Addie started in surprise at discovering the man she’d once adored. “Daniel!”
“Miss Addie.” He let her go and shoved his hands into his pockets.
They stood facing each other, he looking as awkward and uncomfortable as she felt, neither knowing what to say to each other. She wiped at her face with trembling fingers, though he had to have noticed the tears on her cheeks.
“You must have read the paper, too,” she finally said, seeing the tight lines around his mouth and the lingering anger in his dark eyes.
“Yes. And I already know that your sister orchestrated the whole thing.”
“You do? She did?”
“Yes. As a matter of fact, I was just on my way to find you.”
Addie went still. For more years than she could count, she’d heard Daniel say words like those in her dreams. But now that she actually heard him say them . . . where was the funny thrill in her heart? Where was the giddiness?
All of a sudden, pressure built in the back of her nose; she twisted just in time to avoid spraying Daniel with a sneeze.
“Are you all right?”
Addie blushed to her roots. Some things never changed.”Fine, fine.” Taking a backward step, she plucked a hanky from her sleeve and wiped her nose. “You said you were on your way to find me.” It was the most coherent sentence she’d spoken to him in her life. Not one stutter, not one mumble.
“Yes. Ahem. Miss Addie, there is no easy way to say this, so I’ll just come right out with it—I don’t want to marry you.”
She stilled. Her mouth fell open in astonishment.
“It isn’t you,” he hastened to add. “I’m sure you’ll make some m
an a fine wife. That man just won’t be me. Even if I had the time . . . well, I just don’t feel that way about you.”
For a moment, Addie could do little more than stare at him. Amazing. The man she had worshiped for years had just stated that he didn’t want her, and she felt . . . nothing. No heartache, no regret, no sorrow. Just . . . nothing.
How could that be, when a short while ago, her world had been shattered by a man she’d known only a fraction of that time?
She walked a few paces away, wrapped her arms around her middle, and tried to make sense of her confusion. “A year ago—a month ago, even—I would have been crushed to hear that.”
“And now?”
“Something has changed,” she said carefully, as if testing the fit and feel of the syllables. “I’ve changed.” Addie smiled through her tears. A weight had rolled off her shoulders, just by voicing the words that had been lingering in the back of her mind lately, words she hadn’t dared voice until now. “I’ve always been a basket of nerves whenever I get near you. You are too strong, too powerful, too overwhelming. I could never feel like your equal.”
As she spoke the words, another realization came. With Oren, she never felt that way. With him, she felt cherished. Desirable. Strong and independent. All the doubts she’d been carrying around about herself didn’t exist when she was with him.
But when she’d promised to help Linsey fulfill her last wishes, the last thing she’d expected was to fall in love—with the wrong man.
She had, though. She’d fallen in love with Oren Potter. She’d wasn’t sure when it had happened, or how, but she suspected it had been the day he’d stood out on the schoolhouse stoop in the pouring rain with a handful of drowned blossoms.
Her promise to Linsey had never felt like a heavier burden.
“Let me see if I understand this: you don’t want to marry me, either?”
She shook her head slowly.
“You didn’t have anything to do with article in the Herald, or inviting me to supper, or the balloon, or any of the other schemes against me?”
Loving Linsey Page 20
