There was plenty now. Sam seemed to enjoy that chore. A pile lay on each side of the back door, handy for her to carry in if she ran low, though Sam and Chrissy usually kept the bin by the stove full. Sighing when she heard the teakettle sing out in the kitchen, she rose to her feet. Idle hands were the devil's work, and the room definitely needed cleaning.
~~~
Sam hesitantly re-entered the kitchen a half-hour or so after the noon meal. Polly glanced at him, then finished wiping the plate in her hand and placed it in the cupboard. He smelled ginger and other spices in the air and saw a pan of gingerbread cooling on the table, beside a tray of sugar cookies. At the sink, Polly carefully wiped the new hand mixer before laying it in the drawer and picking up her mixing bowl. She stretched onto tiptoes to reach the top cupboard shelf, and he muffled a groan of desire when her breasts strained against her bodice and her slender hips were outlined beneath her skirt.
Suddenly Polly gasped and the bowl teetered on the edge of the shelf. He lunged forward and caught it, shoving it back to safety. He also bumped Polly's body, and grabbed her when she staggered and clutched at his shirt to steady herself.
Wide, green eyes stared up at him when he glanced down and her pink lips parted. The flush on her cheeks deepened, and her fingers clenched in his shirt rather than pushing him away. For an instant, hope stabbed him, and he gathered her closer, smoothing his hands over the curls tumbling down her back.
"All right now?" he asked.
"Uh...yes. Thank you for saving my bowl. The ... uh ... the shelf's a little high."
"I'll fix you up with a step stool," Sam murmured. Of its own volition, one hand brushed a wisp of golden fringe on her forehead. At his touch, she closed her eyes tightly and sucked in a breath. He started to bend his head — wanted desperately to touch those softly parted lips with his own — but her eyes flew open as soon as he moved. He faltered for a brief second, sure she would start struggling wildly in his embrace. Instead, she whimpered a soft sound and flung her arms around his neck.
Sam captured her lips softly at first, but quickly gave in to his surge of desire. Parting her lips with his tongue, he growled deep in his chest when she met his thrust with her own. Everything around him faded, leaving his senses filled with this warm, willing woman in his arms. He tangled his fingers in her hair and firmly clasped the back of her neck, holding her even closer to his greedy lips. Bending his knees slightly, he cupped her hip with his other hand and rubbed the ache between his legs against her, matching his thrusts with the rhythm of his tongue.
Polly sobbed against his mouth and her fingers clenched in his hair, the pain firing his raging lust even higher. He bent lower and grabbed her legs, pulling her up to straddle his waist. God, he had never wanted a woman more in his life, and his senses were just unclouded enough to realize that this deep, uncontrollable need came from Polly being the woman in his arms.
Suddenly Polly wrenched her mouth free and stared at him in dismay, then gasped and tightened her legs around him. Her head dropped to his shoulder and he felt her shudder. A second later, she frenziedly struggled from his arms and backed away, a hand clasped over her mouth, eyes as dark as a storm tossed sea.
"Polly, don't." Sam pulled her back, capturing her arms at her sides so she couldn't fight him. She strove to escape anyway, but he held her until she gave up. Keeping one arm firmly around her waist, he tilted her chin up and waited patiently until she opened her eyes.
"Polly," he growled in a low voice. "Whatever you're feeling, don't let shame be part of it. We're a healthy, normal man and woman, who've been in close enough proximity to each other the last couple weeks to keep our desire near the boiling point."
Polly shook her head and opened her mouth to speak, but Sam kissed her into silence. "Yes, it's true," he said when he raised his head. "I've been aching for you, and you jump away like a scalded cat whenever I get close. I promised myself — and you — that I'd let these feelings between us develop naturally. But you have no idea how hard it's been for me to not kidnap you off that blasted cot every night after Chrissy goes to sleep — carry you back to my bed and show you just how beautiful things between us could be."
"It's...just lust," Polly managed to say.
"No, darling, it's not," Sam denied. "But you're not ready to accept that yet." Reluctantly, he released her, and she scampered around the table, placing it between them. A grating chuckle broke from his lips, and he smiled grimly.
"No, you're not ready yet," he repeated. "But I'm not about to give up."
"We...we got married for Chrissy's sake," Polly said. "You didn't tell me until I'd already agreed to marry you that ... that ... that that would be a part of it."
"Polly, sweetheart, you don't even have any idea what that is yet."
"I...do," Polly stuttered, and Sam could see the exasperation with her wayward tongue on her face. She'd stumbled over every sentence since he touched her. "J-just now...."
"Just now could have been only the beginning," Sam interrupted. "But try not to break any more glasses while you think that over for the next few days. We've barely got enough left as it is." He rumbled with renewed laughter when she flashed him a sparkling green look of indignation, then turned to take her cloak from the wall hook.
"Chrissy's going to stay with Jose for a while this afternoon," he said as he turned back to face her. "I thought maybe you'd like to go for a ride with me. When he delivered the hay, Pyle told me about a couple ponies he has. I've been trying to find time to go over and take a look at them."
She stiffened and gripped the table edge with white fingers, shaking her head. "You can pick it out yourself. You'll be the one paying for it."
"Damn it, Polly," he snarled, his temper barely under control while he tried to ignore the still unsatisfied desire throbbing between his legs. "You haven't been out of this cabin since church last Sunday. Jose says he can feel in his bones a cold front's coming in. This might be the last nice day we have for a while."
"There aren't any chores I need to take care of outside anymore," Polly said, tilting her chin in defiance. "You've got plenty of help now."
"That's no reason for you to stay inside and wither up like a dried rose. You can either get your ass willingly out to the wagon, or I'll carry you. Which will it be? You've very easy for me to lift, remember? I did it a minute ago."
A violent blush crawled over Polly's cheeks and she huffed out an incensed breath, her breasts rising and falling against her bodice. Sam took a step toward her, and she glared at him for another second. Then she rushed swiftly around the table and swiped her cloak from his hands. Jerking the door open, she disappeared outside. By the time Sam controlled his laughter and followed her, she was sitting on the wagon seat, her back as stiff as if she had a frozen icicle down her dress.
She didn't thaw an inch, either, on the ride over to Pyle's place, though he made it a point to take up more than his fair share of the wagon seat. He'd had about enough of the impenetrable wall she kept around her emotions, even when he forced a physical closeness on her. He'd been working his ass off getting the ranch into shape. The hard labor had helped him sleep at night, after he managed to push Polly's face out of his conscious mind. He couldn't seem to keep it out of his dreams, though.
More than once during the day he'd caught himself standing in the yard, admiring the newly-painted barn. Many times he had pulled his horse up when riding back from checking on the cattle to stare at the snug cabin, where smoke from the chimney curled into the blue sky. He could imagine Polly inside, bustling around as she kept it tidy. The clear air out here filled his lungs a heck of a lot more pleasantly than the foggy, cigar-smelling air in the saloon. He'd never been one to eat regularly, but even with the three delightful meals he downed each day, his muscles continued to firm and his stomach was now trim and fit.
Not that it mattered a darn to Polly. She put on a good act for Chrissy, joining in their conversations at mealtimes when they discussed the happenings of th
e day. Yet she busied herself in the kitchen after supper, while he and Chrissy enjoyed a little while in the parlor, then feigned weariness and went to bed when Chrissy did. He knew darned well she did it to keep from being alone with him. How the heck could he court her when she avoided him? If that blasted bowl hadn't started to fall a while ago, he never would have gotten his hands on her.
As they drove into the Pyle ranch yard, Sam frowned to himself. He'd thought that bowl securely on the shelf himself, but then his real attention had been on the outline of Polly's body beneath her dress.
Chapter 9
Jo drifted down and settled on the pony's back, legs curled in front of her. The tiny animal turned its head briefly to glance at her, then continued trotting along behind the wagon, head bobbing in time to its movements.
"Oh, Matt," Jo breathed with a sign. "Chrissy's going to love this pony." She leaned forward and tickled her fingers through the silky, white mane and ran a hand over the sleek, chestnut withers. "He's a darling little pony, isn't he?"
"What happened to spoiling Chrissy?" Matt said as he floated above her. "We don't want her to be a whiner, do we?"
"A pony's different," Jo insisted. "A little girl needs to learn to ride as much as a little boy does. Horses and ponies are transportation. And even Polly fell in love with this one. She didn't argue with Sam about buying it."
"Polly's still trying to come to terms with her feelings for Sam, after what happened when you nudged that bowl off the shelf." Matt shook his head and chuckled. "Right now, Sam could probably buy out the entire general store for Chrissy, and Polly would only nod and say how nice it was for him to do that. Who would ever have thought a simple thing like a mixing bowl would finally get them in each other's arms again?"
Jo preened for just an instant, then glanced overhead and quickly changed her demeanor. Pride didn't belong in the inventory of angel emotions. She also might have been pushing the bounds of not interfering in Polly and Sam's relationship when she prodded the bowl from the shelf, but she had taken advantage of the situation without too much thought. Michael, though, could be around any time.
"I know I accused you of not understanding our female assignments, Matt," she said. "And we both thought this match a big mistake at first. But now we can see how right Sam and Polly are for each other. Why are humans so dense sometimes? Why can't Polly see she's in love with Sam?"
"Aw, Jo," Matt replied. "You've got to remember that we've been around since Creation — and we continue to grow and learn all the time. Humans have such a short time to develop and understand their emotions. But I have to disagree with you here. I think what Polly's fighting is the knowledge that she loves Sam. And she wants his love in return, rather than only a relationship of convenience for Chrissy's sake."
"Sam does love her, Matt. It's Polly he wants to make love with, not just any woman. He's still carrying remnants of the hurt of Christine breaking off with him, though. He's afraid to trust. After all, he's reminded of Christine every day. She's buried here, and he's in love with her sister — living with Polly. Everything here is a remembrance to him of Christine and his brother. He might be enjoying working on the ranch for a while, but he's in no way ready to accept it as a home for the rest of his life."
The wagon pulled into the ranch yard, and Jo gave the pony a final pat, then drifted from its back.
"Wal, pod'ner," Matt drawled as Jo floated to his side, "we'll jist have ta see what shakes out here."
Jo nudged him in the side and laughed before they both looked down in response to Chrissy's shout of joy as she ran toward the wagon.
~~~
Polly shivered and tugged her cloak tighter as they headed home after church. Jose's aches had again proven to be a true forecast of the impending weather. Blue northers swept down quickly and severely this time of year, sometimes dropping temperatures as much as thirty or forty degrees within an hour. This morning had dawned clear and barely cool enough for a wrap, but she had heeded Jose's warning and loaded a few blankets into the wagon.
Chrissy huddled in her new coat and continued to bounce along on her pony, which she had named Nicker within moments after its arrival. Polly asked her if she wanted to ride in the wagon and wrap up in a blanket, giving in at once to the pleading to ride Nicker. Chrissy hadn't needed more than a cursory riding lesson from Sam — instead, she moved naturally with the pony's rhythm from the beginning. She rode bareback now, but Sam had already hidden the almost-new saddle he'd also bought from Edgar Pyle in the barn until Christmas Day.
"There's a pretty one," Chrissy said for the tenth time as she pointed at a spruce tree and kneed Nicker away from the wagon.
Sam agreeably halted the wagon and jumped down. He held his arms up to Polly, and she allowed him to help her from her seat again. Shaking her head tolerantly, she smiled up at Sam.
"I wonder if this tree will suit Miss Perfection?" she asked. "According to Chrissy, the last one was too tall — the one before that had a missing branch where she thought the angel should be hung. One was too fat — one way too skinny."
"Well, I hope this one is it, because my feet are about frozen. There was a puddle of water I didn't notice back about three trees ago, and I stepped in it."
"Oh, Sam," Polly said in quick concern. "Maybe we should go on home."
"We're going to get a tree," Sam said in a determined voice. "I'll be fine."
He grabbed the axe from behind the wagon seat and strode toward Chrissy, who had dismounted and was walking around the prospective tree. She had her chin in her hand and her head cocked, studying it closely. Polly watched her and Sam for a moment longer.
With Christmas only three days away, it had been hard for her to maintain her irritation with Sam. He'd been like a little boy himself yesterday, his excitement almost as great as Chrissy's when he handed the pony's reins over to her. Last night in the parlor, the two of them had carefully paced off the area in front of the window, and Sam lifted Chrissy to his shoulders to measure the height of the room. As they strung popcorn and berries, the two of them had hinted at hidden gifts, which would appear under their beautiful tree Christmas morning.
She heard the sound of the axe thunking into wood and breathed a sigh of relief. Chrissy had evidently found the perfect tree. Her thoughts continued as she waited for them to finish cutting it down.
She'd held herself aloof from the easy camaraderie between Sam and Chrissy up until yesterday evening, and soon came to realize what she'd been missing. Granted, her remoteness had been directed at Sam — an attempt to handle the intense pull she felt toward him, which had finally flared out of control the previous morning. Still, if this was to be her last Christmas at the ranch, she should make it as enjoyable for Chrissy as she could. After all, hadn't that been why she asked Sam to wait until after Christmas to make his decision on selling the ranch?
Chrissy screamed and Polly's heart leapt into her throat. Instinctively, she gathered her skirts and ran toward the tree, which now lay on the ground. Chrissy stood beside it, a hand over her mouth and her eyes wide with terror. She couldn't see Sam.
Oh, God. Where was he?
She found him behind the tree, his hands clasped around his blood-soaked leg. The axe lay next to him, its blade splotched in red.
"Oh, my God!" Polly ran to Sam and knelt by his side. Chrissy began sobbing behind her, but Polly couldn't handle both of them right now. She jerked her skirt up to tear off strips of her petticoat while she demanded Sam tell her what had happened.
"Last whack, boot slipped on a frozen spot on the ground," he managed between lips set grim with pain. "Axe got me."
"How...how bad...?"
"Mostly blood, honey," Sam muttered. "Tie it up, 'til we get home."
Polly quickly wrapped several loops of petticoat around the wound. Blood continued to seep through, and she tore off another strip. She pulled this one tighter, her mind racing with images of what could happen. The wound needed cleaning immediately. That young man she had know
n in New Orleans died of gangrene from a septic wound. And the blood — so much of it.... Christine's blood had poured from her, taking the life and vivacity that was her sister with it. She choked on a sob and covered her quaking lips with her hands.
Sam touched her cheek and murmured soothingly, "Honey, take it easy. The bleeding's stopped now. I'll be all right until we get home."
"Oh, Sam!" She brushed a black curl from his forehead with shaking fingers. The cold sweat covering his skin told her how deeply he was suffering, despite his attempt to reassure her. She had to get him to the cabin. Chrissy ran over and flung her arms around Sam's neck, whimpering but stepping back hurriedly and sniffing for courage.
Pride surged through Polly when the little girl said bravely, "We'll help you into the wagon, Papa. You can lean on us."
Sam struggled to his feet and wrapped an arm around Polly's shoulders. Though she insisted he let her take more of his weight, he hobbled to the wagon using his injured leg and letting Chrissy hold one hand as though she helped. With a grunt, he hoisted himself up to the seat and fell back. Polly's heart hammered in her chest at the shadowed depths of agony in his dark eyes and renewed cold sweat drops, now rolling down his tight face.
"Can the two of you manage that tree?" he asked in an attempted light voice.
"Forget the tree," Polly said. "We've got to...."
"Polly," he interrupted, with a sliding glance at Chrissy's small, worried face. "I went to a lot of trouble to get that blasted tree. Try to get it in the wagon, won't you?"
She stared up at him, flabbergasted and itching to ignore him. Setting her mouth, she placed a foot on the wagon step.
Chrissy's Wish Page 7
