He stared out the window at the street beyond, to familiarize himself with the town, but in only moments he caught himself turning his gaze to his new home, just a few hundred feet away.
All morning, while listening to Cotton's vivid descriptions of Treasure Gap, Jacob's mind had continually returned to the scene with Bridget the night before. Just remembering the taste of her, the feel of her in his arms was enough to speed up his heart and make his mouth go dry.
He took a small sip of the hot coffee, letting Cotton's voice fade into the background. It wasn’t only the desire he felt for Bridget that was causing him so much turmoil, it was her very presence in his house. Somehow, in less than twenty-four hours, she had made that cabin seem more of a home than he'd ever known.
He'd never really felt comfortable in the rambling mansion his family had called home for generations. Its cold, stiff beauty had never welcomed him as the small cabin filled with Bridget's soft singing did.
Before the war had given him an excuse to leave the Fallon home again, he'd spent nearly every day searching for a reason to get out – to the city, to the fields, anywhere where he might find the peace denied him at home. Now it was all he could do to keep from rushing back to the cabin on one pretext or another.
"Boss?”
Jacob turned to find Cotton studying him with a, wry grin on his face. “Yes?”
"You ain't heard a word I just said, have ya?”
He almost denied the accusation, then recklessly he shrugged and said, "No. Sorry, Cotton. I suppose I was thinking of something else."
Cotton swung his legs down from the desk and stood up. Pushing his hat to the back of his bead, the deputy grinned again before saying, "Most likely, it was someone else."
Jacob frowned slightly.
The younger man held one hand up quickly. “Don't take no offense now, boss. Why, I don't blame you one little bit. If I bad me a wife as pretty as yours, I don't reckon I'd be thinkin' about no fool town." '
Jacob stiffened, turned, and set his coffee cup down on the edge of his desk. His voice brusque, he said only, "She's not my wife."
"She ain't?” Cotton's voice rose considerably along with his interest. “'Well, that makes my day a whole lot brighter.”
Jacob glared at him, but the man paid no attention. Stiffly he asked his deputy, "When did you see her?”
Hitching his gunbelt into a more comfortable position, then adjusting his hat, Cotton answered, “When you folks hit town yesterday… along with every other man in town." He moved closer to the door. "I tell you, boss, when a woman that good-lookin' rolls into a town mighty short on womenfolk, people are likely to sit up and take notice." Grabbing the doorknob, he asked, "You ready for that look around town, now?"
"Uh, yes, all right." Jacob bit down his irritation and reached for his hat, hanging on a peg near the door.
Cotton opened the door and stepped onto the boardwalk. "Yessir, the fellas are gonna be right pleased to hear that you two ain't hitched." He turned around quickly. "She ain't your… intended or nothin', is she?"
"No." Jacob stepped outside and slammed the office door. He squinted into the distance. "She is a… governess for my daughter."
"Whew!" Cotton grinned again and stepped down into the street. "Had me worried for a minute there, boss! Reckon you could introduce me to the pretty lady?"
Jacob tightened his grip on the rifle he carried. With great effort he ground out, "Certainly. Another time. Now, Cotton, do you suppose we could leave the subject of Miss O'Dell and get back to business?"
"Sure, boss, sure. Hang on to your hair." He started off down the street, and Jacob was• close enough behind him to hear, "O'Dell, eh? Always did like them Irish girls with pretty red streaks in their hair."
Jacob clamped his jaw shut and marched past the deputy, who had to hurry to catch up.
#
He couldn't seem to stop looking at her. Jacob's fingers held the rope tightly and pulled it through the next neatly drilled hole in the bed's framework. At least he had a chore to keep him busy. Lord knew, he needed it.
He'd already spent an entire day listening to Cotton Drake tell every man in hearing distance that Bridget was not only beautiful but unencumbered. As if he needed to be reminded. He glanced toward the loft ladder and groaned as Bridget slowly climbed down from tucking Jessica in for the night. Her skirt crept up the length of her leg, giving him an unimpeded view of lovely white skin.
Deliberately he lowered his gaze and concentrated on the task before him. He heard her quiet movements as she walked from table to sink and back again, but didn't trust himself to look up. After a few minutes of strained silence, save for the crackle of the fire, her steps came nearer until she stopped beside him.
Jacob looked up and saw that she held two cups of coffee and was staring at him hesitantly, as if unsure of her welcome. He smiled and held up his hand.
Bridget breathed a sigh of relief as she gave him his coffee. He'd been so distracted ever since returning from the marshal's office, she'd been uneasy around him. But now, with Jessie asleep in the loft and the quiet night around them, perhaps they could talk.
In a smooth, fluid motion Bridget sank to the floor beside him. She sipped at her coffee and watched as he made the final knot in his rope bed.
"You've done a good job, Jacob. And very quickly, too."
He looked up and gave her a half smile, then picked up his coffee cup.
She bit her lip. He wasn't making talking very easy. "So, did you like your new office, then?"
He nodded.
Bridget sighed and tried again. “I saw you and another fella wearin' a badge this afternoon. Is he your helper?"
His eyes flicked up to hers quickly. Then, looking away, he said. "Yes. Cotton Drake. He's my deputy."
"Well, that's nice.”
"What do you mean?” His eyes narrowed as he waited for her answer.
“Don't jump down my throat, man! I only meant it was nice that you'd not have to do everything all on your own." Saints above! Whatever it was bothering him, she wished he’d get it out of his system.
He set his cup down on the floor and ran a hand through his hair. “Ah, hell, Bridget I'm sorry. It's just been a helluva day. Just meeting all the store owners was bad enough. They each had a list of complaints as long as your arm. And the miners!"
“What?”
“Well, some of them are no better than… never mind." He looked at her seriously for a moment. "But when you take Jessica outside this cabin, I want you to be careful. Most of the men in town are harmless enough, but there are a few that I wouldn't trust as far as I could throw them." He shook his head. "And there's more arriving every day."
"Don't worry so, Jacob." She laid her hand on his arm. “I'll look out for Jessie's safety as if she were my own."
He covered her hand with his. “It's not only Jessie I'm concerned about, Bridget.”
She lowered her gaze, afraid to stare for too long into the pale blue eyes that held her. Frantically she searched for something to say and then remembered what she'd wanted to ask him in the first place. "Jacob, can you tell me now what you wouldn't this morning? About Jessie, I mean. And her tears over her dress?"
His arm under her hand tensed. She felt the muscles bunch. He sighed heavily and leaned back against the bed he'd just completed.
“Yes. All right." He glanced at her, then looked away. "It's only fair that you know. You'll probably see more such reactions from her in the future."
Bridget saw his eyes glaze over and knew he was looking into his own past, that he wasn't in the friendly little cabin anymore. She told herself she was a fool for asking. The whole thing was probably about Jessie's mother. His wife. She'd already sensed that remembering the woman brought him pain. It must have been horrible for him, to lose her in such an ugly way. Though Bridget had her own opinion about what Helene Fallon had done, it was none of her business. He must have loved her very deeply, she told herself. That would explain, too,
the fact that he didn't want another wife. Perhaps in his mind no other woman could compare.
His voice was stiff, hard. "Jessica must have been remembering how things were in the past." Jacob looked up at her, his eyes glazed with remembered anger. "Her mother had a very strict view on children. Jessica wasn't allowed to play outside. Dirt, you know. Should she happen to dirty one of her dresses anyway, she would be immediately placed in the nursery on the third floor and left there, alone, to think about what she had done. I'm told that sometimes Jessica would be locked in for days on end with her meals brought in by a servant who would not be allowed to speak to her."
“What?” Bridget pulled her hand away and glared at him. “The woman did that to a child? And you allowed this'?"
Jacob rubbed his eyes as if trying to erase the memory. "Helene was no ordinary woman, Bridget." He looked at her. "And no, I didn't allow it. Hell, I didn't even know about it! For most of Jessie's life, I was away, in the army. On my few visits home Jessie was with me and seemed happy."
Bridget's anger went too deep for words. Helplessly her gaze flew to the loft where the poor child now lay sleeping. To be treated so by the one who should love you most… it was a wonder to Bridget that Jessica had remained such a gentle soul.
She looked back at Jacob then and with a lurch saw that he, too, had been staring toward the loft. His jaw worked convulsively, and she watched as his big hands clenched and unclenched. For a wild moment Bridget wished heartily that she could have just five minutes alone with Helene Fallon.
Instinctively, though, she moved closer to Jacob and laid her hand gently against his cheek. She moved her thumb softly over the beard-stubbled skin and found herself holding her breath until he turned to look at her. Once she'd glanced into his haunted, pale eyes, Bridget was lost.
Slowly, hesitantly, she leaned closer and touched her lips to his. He held perfectly still and made no response to the kiss. Deliberately, then, Bridget moved her mouth more demandingly on his. Her hands moved to the buttons of his shirt, and when they were undone, her fingers moved lightly over his heated flesh.
Jacob shuddered and leaned into her, opening his mouth under hers. Their tongues met and he clasped her to him with arms that felt to her like steel bands. Her heart pounding in her chest, Bridget pulled her mouth from his and struggled to get air into her lungs.
"Bridget," he whispered softly, his breath warming her cheek, "if we don't stop now, there'll be no stopping."
She met his gaze evenly, running her tongue over dry, swollen lips. Her breathing ragged, she saw passion darken his eyes and knew there would be no stopping. She'd known it when she'd kissed him. Perhaps she'd known it from that first night on board ship.
"No stopping, Jacob." She nodded slightly and smoothed back his hair from his brow.
He caught her hand in his and ran his thumb across the callused palm. "I can't make you any promises, Bridget.”
"Ah, I know that, Jacob. And I haven't asked for any."
She couldn't promise him that she would still be in Treasure Gap at the end of summer… or that they wouldn't both regret this in the morning. But right now, she knew it was the right thing to do.
"You're sure?"
She leaned down to kiss him again. "I've opened the door, Jacob."
Chapter Twelve
He caught her to him with a groan and pressed her body to his. Jacob's mouth covered hers, and Bridget's breath caught as his tongue coaxed her lips apart. There was no hesitation, no doubt. She clung to him and answered his unchecked passion eagerly.
When he pulled away from her, Bridget sighed a protest, but he had no intention of stopping. Instead, he turned his lips to the soft flesh of her neck. Goose bumps sped down her spine in response to the damp warmth of his kisses.
Still holding her tight, Jacob rose to his feet and carried her the short distance to her room on the far side of the cabin. In the firelight's soft glow she saw his features soften into shades of anticipation… hunger. Burrowing up against his chest, Bridget felt the familiar curl of desire begin its course through her body. Her heartbeat quickened, breathing grew more difficult, and her flesh became so sensitive to his touch it was almost painful to bear.
The lamp on a small table beside her bed was still burning, its wick turned low. In the soft, indistinct light Jacob crossed to the wide rope bed and stopped beside it. Gently he set Bridget on her feet. He cupped her face as he lowered his mouth to hers once more. His kiss was feather soft, his lips merely teasing hers.
When her breath left her on a sigh, Jacob moved his fingers to the buttons of her shirtwaist. Deftly he pushed the tiny buttons free, his gaze feasting on her body as, inch by inch, her smooth flesh was exposed to him. Slowly, then, he pushed the pale ivory fabric over her shoulders.
Bridget, embarrassment warring with desire, stood completely still under his gentle attentions. He tenderly brushed her shoulders with his lips, each in turn, and she tilted her head, giving him her silent assent. She looked up at him then and knew the desire in his eyes was reflected in her own. Boldly she reached for him and quickly undid the buttons of his shirt. As each popped free, her hands explored the muscled breadth of him, stroking the coarse brown curls that covered his heated flesh. She felt his breath catch when she skimmed over a flat dark nipple with her nail. Cautiously she repeated the action and was rewarded when he groaned and caught her to him.
He bent down, grabbed the edge of the flowered quilt, and tossed it to the foot of the bed. Gently, then, he lowered her to the sweet-smelling sheets and stretched out beside her. He pulled the edge of her chemise aside, baring her breasts to his view. He paused then, and Bridget hesitantly opened her eyes. Jacob met her gaze and smiled softly.
“You are so beautiful, Bridget," he whispered before placing a reverent kiss to her lips. "More beautiful than I'd ever imagined."
Warmth rushed through her, and she kept her eyes on him as he shifted position slightly. His strong hands moved over her skin, igniting a fire that quickly threatened to consume her. He circled a pale pink nipple with his fingers and toyed with it until it stood erect. Then he lowered his head and took the bud into the warmth of his mouth.
Bridget's body arched. Desperately she pushed at his shirt, trying to rid him of it.
Jacob pulled away from her and smiled at her groan of disappointment. Quickly he slipped out of his shirt and tossed it to the floor. In seconds, then, he slid Bridget's skirt and underthings from her body and took a moment to look his fill.
Pushing himself from the bed, Jacob then stood and pulled off the rest of his clothing in a frenzy of movement. She opened her arms to him when he was finished, and he eagerly slid into them. Pulling her into the circle of his arms, Jacob pressed the length of her body to him.
Bridget moved her hands over his broad back and deliberately rubbed her breasts against his chest. Her nipples tingled with the pressure, and Bridget smiled when Jacob moaned softly. She rolled to her back, and Jacob came with her. Reaching up, Bridget pushed back a lock of his hair, then smoothed her thumb over his lips, silently demanding the feel of his mouth again.
Jacob smiled and leaned over her. Lowering his head, he pressed his lips to hers, opening her willing mouth with ease. Their tongues met again in a wild, frenzied duel, and Jacob moved his hands over her with the same unbridled need.
Her throat, her breasts, the nipples straining for attention, her smooth, flat belly, and beyond. Bridget gasped deep in her throat when Jacob gently stroked the damp warm bud of her sex. But he swallowed her gasp and eased her apprehension with the tenderness of his touch. Slowly, reluctantly, Jacob moved his mouth from hers. As he continued to caress the heart of her with his fingers, his mouth moved to one of her breasts.
Bridget pressed her head deep into the pillow, and when Jacob closed his mouth over her nipple and began to nip at it lightly with his teeth, she groaned and arched her neck further. He began to suck at her breast while at the same time slipping his fingers inside her body. Bridget
groaned and shifted. Twisting and pushing at the mattress, she moved against his hands and mouth, looking not for escape, but for release from the tight, feverish feeling that gripped her.
He moved to take her other nipple into his mouth, and as his fingers dipped in and out of her body, his thumb gently moved over the hardened bud at the joining of her thighs.
Bridget spread her legs wide, all embarrassment gone. She now only wanted an end to the torment he brought. Her hips rose and fell against his hand, and she held his head down tightly on her breast, urging his lips to pull harder at her breast.
There was no end to the feelings. They only built higher and higher. She heard her own heartbeat in her ears and knew that she would die soon if this delicious anguish continued.
Jacob released his hold on her breast and, with a final kiss, leaned back.
"Jacob," she managed to whisper, "are we finished then?”
“No, Bridget.” He shook his head slowly and moved to kneel between her legs.
"Ah, thank God." She sighed.
He smiled softly and lifted her hips in his hands. She watched as the hard shaft of him came closer to her opening. There was only a moment's doubt at the size of him, but then he began again to stroke her dampness, and she gave herself over into his hands. Her gaze on his face, she felt him enter her. Bridget arched her body at the intrusion, but beyond the small tendril of fear lay a coil of pleasure as they were joined.
He moved in her slowly, inching his way deeper inside until she wanted to scream her need at him. Then he stopped, positioned her hips, and plunged into her warmth.
She gasped. There was a moment of discomfort followed by the satisfaction of having him fill her. She looked at him and smiled, reaching out her arms to him. He leaned over her, propping himself up with one hand on either side of her form. He kissed her hard as his body began to rock back and forth in a steady rhythm.
Mountain Dawn Page 15
