Wild Western Women Ride Again: Western Historical Romance Boxed Set

by Kirsten Osbourne

But this man was worth looking at. His muscles rippled under golden skin covered with a light dusting of hair. He continued to stare at her as he reached for the buckle at his waist and unfastened his pants. Shoving them down, he stepped out of the trousers, kicking them free. He stood before her in all his male glory, taking her breath away. Her palms itched to caress all that golden skin, to tweak the hairs on his massive chest.

  Her eyes roamed further down at his jutting manhood, eager and pulsing. Sitting up, she reached out her hand and touched him, amazed at the hardness underneath incredible softness. She’d never touched Hans in this way. Would his body have been as fascinating as Daniel’s?

  Not likely.

  “Sweetheart, you’re killing me here.” He sat next to her on the bed, and within moments, after a few maneuvers, had her as naked as he was. His gaze roamed over her from her face to her toes, his eyes eating her up. “You are so beautiful, Rosemarie.”

  “No.” She eased back, attempting to pull the sheet up to cover her body. “I’ve had three children. My body is no longer young.”

  “Ah, honey, your body is perfect. For me.” He brushed the curls back from her forehead and slid her down, stretching out alongside her. “You are a woman who has borne children and nursed them from your breasts. It’s what God intended when he made women as beautiful as they are. As beautiful as you are.”

  Tears sprang to her eyes at his words. No one had ever made her feel so happy to be a woman, for herself, not just as a body to provide relief for a man. Or a servant to see to his other needs. When she looked into his eyes she did feel beautiful. And desired. She cupped his cheek. “Thank you.”

  With a low groan from deep within, his large hand took her face and held it gently. His head descended and covered her lips in a slow drugging kiss. Thank God she was lying down, or she would surely have slid to the floor in a puddle.

  She’d spent years being bedded by Hans, but had never been made love to until now. Daniel worshiped every part of her body, kissing, teasing, licking, until she was thrashing on the bed, begging him to finish what she ached for.

  “Ah, sweetheart, I won’t leave you wanting.” He spread her legs apart and moved over her, resting on his forearms, cradling her face. He took his time easing into her, allowing for months without a husband.

  Once he completely filled her, he burrowed his face where her neck and shoulder joined, whispering words of praise and of her beauty. He slowly began the ancient dance of lovers, moving in and out with a smooth motion. His body shifted to rub hers right where she needed to feel the pressure of his movements.

  With as long as they’d been fighting the powerful attraction between them, it didn’t take much time for her to splinter apart at the same time Daniel threw his head back and poured his seed into her.

  He collapsed and rolled to the side, taking her with him. Reaching down, he drew the blanket over the two of them, tucking her securely against his side. Secure and cherished. That’s how he made her feel.

  She had no idea lovemaking could be so wonderful. Deep in her heart, she knew this was truly how the joining of a man and a woman should feel. As if she’d found her other half, as if she would never again be a complete person without Daniel.

  He lazily ran his fingers up and down her arm. The sounds of her heart pounding and her lungs attempting to fill with air soon settled into a normal pattern as she drifted off to sleep in Daniel’s arms.

  Chapter Seven

  Jolted awake by the sound of the bedroom door opening, Rosemarie’s heart thumped as she gazed into the dim light. She was afraid it was one of the children, who would see Daniel lying alongside her. When the door fully opened, the man who occupied her thoughts stood there, completely dressed. She quickly darted a glance at the mattress, at the outline of where his body had lain. He moved further into the room, and sat on the bed next to her. One look at his face and she knew. He was leaving. Her stomach muscles clenched.

  “You know.” He took her hand in his. The warmth from his touch shot straight to her core. Tears rushed to her eyes and she blinked rapidly to regain her emotions. She’d known from the start he wouldn’t be with them forever. But for the first time in her life she felt cared for, as though she meant more to someone than what she could do for them, or bring them.

  She should be ashamed that she had given herself to Daniel, but in her heart she knew it had been right. At least she would have one night of glorious memories to sustain her throughout the coming lonely years.

  “Yes,” she whispered. “I know it’s time.”

  He pushed the hair away from her forehead, leaned forward and kissed the spot he uncovered. “I wish I could stay.” Daniel released her hand and stared out the window at the bare branches swaying in the late winter wind. “I wish there was no war, no north and south. No Union and Confederacy.” His gaze met hers. “Most of all I wish I could stay here with you, love you every night, watch your belly swell with our child.”

  Rosemarie sat up and brought his hand to her cheek. “That’s what I wish for as well.” She dropped his hand and raised her chin. “But wishes are just that, Reb—wishes.”

  He smiled at the nickname she hadn’t used in a while, then his lips tightened. “I hate that I’m not in a position to make promises.”

  “I know.” Rosemarie clasped his large hand in hers. “The children will miss you.”

  “Only the children?” His heated gaze searched her face for an answer.

  She slowly moved her head back and forth. “No.”

  In one swift movement, Daniel crushed her to his chest, claiming her mouth. Rosemarie parted her lips and he swept his tongue in. The intimacy of the act sent a shock wave through her body. She moaned and slid her palms upward, encircling his neck, pulling him closer.

  Daniel raised his head and cupped her cheeks. “You are so beautiful. Inside and out.” When her eyes filled again, he kissed each eyelid. Two tears tracked down her cheeks. He tucked her head against his chest and she inhaled deeply, trying to memorize his smell, and feel.

  “When this war is over…”

  “No.” She pulled away. “Don’t make promises.” She stiffened her spine, and wiped the dampness on her face. “You have a whole different life, far away from us.”

  He took her cold hands in his warm ones. “No, sweetheart, I have no life far away from here. No life anywhere away from you. My family’s land has been sold, my parents are both dead, and my brother, if he’s still alive, is fighting with the Union Army.”

  Again he pulled her to him. “If I survive, I will return, even if I have to walk every step.”

  Rosemarie shook her head. “Don’t say that. Please.”

  “Do you think I would make love to you and not plan a future if I were able?”

  Unable to speak, she merely shook her head.

  He sighed and set her away from him. “If I don’t leave now, I never will. I’m still a wanted man.” Daniel ran his knuckles across her cheek, stood, then made his way to the door.

  “Where are you headed?” How could she make normal conversation at a time like this when her heart was breaking?

  “To Kentucky. I’ll be safer there. I’ll try to hitch a ride to Virginia.” He stared over her head, his jumbled thoughts visible on his face. “General Lee needs all the help he can get. Something tells me we’re getting close to the end.” He shook his head, as if to clear it. As his hand rested on the doorknob, he added, “I’m leaving the horse here for you.”

  Rosemarie swung her legs over the side of the bed and stood, wrapping her hands around her middle. “Take the horse. You have a long way to go.”

  “No. You need the animal here. I’ll be fine. Get back into bed, it’s cold.”

  “Daniel…”

  He shook his head, and left the room, the soft click of the door closing like a dagger to her heart.

  

  “Mama?” Chandler stood alongside Rosemarie’s bed as she eased her eyes open, squinting at the sunlight streami
ng across the bed, bathing her face in warmth.

  She’d spent the hours after Daniel’s departure tossing and turning, her thoughts so jumbled, sleep remained elusive. She rose on one elbow, blinking away the grit from her aching eyes, confused at the amount of daylight. It must be way past the time they all generally awoke.

  Rosemarie smiled at her son. “What time is it, Chandler?”

  “I don’t know, but Amelia and Jace are sick.”

  Rosemarie threw the quilt off, and stood. “Sick?”

  He nodded his head. “Jace is crying that his throat hurts, and Amelia just threw up. I gave her the chamber pot.”

  They hurried to the children’s room. Rosemarie pushed open the door and her stomach clenched. Her two younger children tossed in their beds, their faces flush with fever.

  “Amelia?” She knelt beside her and smoothed back the hair from her brow.

  Amelia stared back at her with glazed eyes. “Mama, I don’t feel good.”

  The sound of Jace crying softly caught her attention, and she moved to his bed. The baby thrashed, his legs moving restlessly as he licked his dried lips. “Mama.” He held his hand out, which Rosemarie took, alarmed at the heat radiating from it.

  “Itchy,” Amelia whimpered.

  Rosemarie scooted back and lifted the child’s nightgown. A rash covered her neck and chest. She checked Jace. The skin on his small body felt dry and scratchy, and he also had a similar rash.

  “How do you feel, Chan?”

  “My throat hurts a little, but I feel okay.”

  “I’ll be right back.” Rosemarie left the room, her heart racing. Childhood illnesses could kill.

  Dust motes danced in the air as she hurried down the hallway to the parlor. In a few quick steps she reached the bookshelf Hans had built for her as a wedding present. Shaky fingers retrieved the worn copy of Gunn’s Domestic Medicine, the well-used book her mother, Marie, had given her when Rosemarie was carrying Chandler. Rosemarie had memories of Mama leafing through the pages while a sick child or two writhed on their beds. Although her mother had managed to raise ten children, she’d given birth to fifteen. Two died at childbirth and the other three succumbed to childhood illnesses.

  Brows furrowed, Rosemarie hastened to the bedroom, flipping the pages as she walked. She skimmed over symptoms of numerous diseases that struck children every year. Her eyes moved back and forth as she read the description under Childhood Diseases.

  Symptoms of chicken pox include a rash on the patient’s chest, then face. He will also complain of nausea, fever, headache, sore throat, and pain in both ears. As in all illnesses of childhood, chicken pox may be dangerous, and easily spreads from one person to another. The patient should be kept quiet, and indoors. If possible, a doctor should be consulted for instructions.

  “Mama,” Jace wailed right before he vomited onto the floor.

  “Chandler, fetch me a pan of water and some cloths to cool your brother and sister down.” She searched his face. “Are you sure you’re all right?”

  Chandler eyed the mess on the floor and swallowed a few times. “I think so.”

  She placed her hand on his forehead. No fever, so far.

  “I want you to cool down Jace and Amelia while I clean the floor.” From sheer habit, she headed to her bedroom to dress and fetch Daniel from the barn. She would need his help.

  Then her thoughts stopped her as if she’d run into a wall.

  Daniel was gone.

  She was all alone with two, possibly three, children who could die. Tears welled in her eyes. Dear God, what could she do?

  Rosemarie walked in circles, wringing her hands. Despite the clear US brand on the stolen horse’s left shoulder, she needed to hitch it to the wagon and bring the three children into town to see the doctor. She would find a way to cover the marking.

  “Mama, should I fetch Mr. McCoy, from the barn? He’ll know what to do. ” Chandler stood in the doorway to her bedroom.

  “He’s…” What? Gone forever. On his way back to the war. No longer able to help us. She sighed and sat on the edge of the bed. “Mr. McCoy left last night to re-join his regiment.”

  Chandler’s face paled. Amazing that the Reb had been here just short of a month, and already her son had lost faith in her ability to handle things alone. She was their mother, she’d nursed them before.

  But never all three at the same time, and with a serious illness.

  “What will we do?” His voice quivered.

  Rosemarie stared at him for a minute. “Go to the barn and hitch the horse to the wagon. We’ll take Jace and Amelia into town to see the doctor.”

  Chandler raced away, and Rosemarie quickly removed her nightgown and pulled on a dress. Once the floor in the children’s bedroom had been cleaned, she hurried outside with the feather mattress from the boys’ bed and stuffed it into the back of the wagon.

  The horse’s US brand glared at her in disapproval. At the sound of retching, she turned to see Chandler emptying his stomach alongside the wagon. A sense of fear and urgency swept through her. “Go wash out your mouth, and then climb into the wagon and lie down.”

  “What about Jace and Amelia?” Chandler wiped his forehead with his sleeve.

  “Don’t worry, I’ll get them.”

  Both children tossed on their beds, whimpering. She wrapped Jace in his blanket, and carried him outside. Back from his trek to the sink, Chandler reached for Jace and tucked him into the wagon bed. Once he was settled, Rosemarie rushed to the house and carried Amelia out.

  “Mama, I’m so hot,” her daughter whined.

  “I know, honey. But you must keep the blanket wrapped around you.”

  “Where we going?”

  “I’m bringing you and your brothers to Dr. Kennedy in town. He’ll know what to do to make you feel better.”

  “I like Dr. Kennedy,” she whispered.

  With everyone settled, Rosemarie threw another blanket over the horse to hide the brand, tied her bonnet strings with jerky movements, and then with a racing heart drove the wagon out of the yard.

  A little over an hour later, Rosemarie urged the horse down the main street of Bartlett Creek, a small town standing not quite halfway between the Wilson farm and Indianapolis. With the three children sick, it had been a quiet drive. They’d stopped a few times to allow one child or another to lean over the side of the wagon and throw up.

  The sun shone high overhead, but the air remained cool. Shops did a brisk business, with customers going in and out, carrying bags of goods. After a few minutes, Rosemarie noticed a sense of gaiety in the air. People greeted passers-by with smiles, men shook hands, and women hugged each other. Focused on getting her children to the doctor’s house, she continued down the street, and turned the corner next to the saloon. The tinny jangle of a piano blared from the doorway, and from the sound of it, more than a couple of men had decided to drink their noon meal.

  She pulled up in front of a white clapboard house. If she’d been able to ride into town when Hans had been shot, perhaps Dr. Kennedy might have saved his life. But left with no horses, she’d taken care of her husband herself. Guilt gripped her when she realized she would never have known Daniel, made love with him, if Hans had survived. Nine years of marriage to Hans had never moved her the way only a few weeks with Daniel had. Now he was gone, off to fight in the war, and she would most likely never see him again.

  The door to the snug white and blue house opened before Rosemarie even knocked.

  “What brings you all the way out here, Mrs. Wilson?” The doctor’s wife, a round-cheeked woman of middle years, wiped her hands on her apron and smiled at Rosemarie.

  “My children are sick. Is the doctor in?”

  “Not at the moment, but he should be back very soon.” Mrs. Kennedy stepped onto the porch, and patted Rosemarie’s arm. “Let’s get the little ones into the house.”

  The two of them hurried down the porch steps. Chandler was able to walk, and Mrs. Kennedy and Rosemarie carried the
younger ones.

  “We’ll need to cool them down while we wait for the doctor.” Rosemarie laid Amelia on a small cot in the doctor’s infirmary. “Can you get me some cool water and a cloth?”

  “Certainly, dear. I’ll be right back.”

  Rosemarie tugged at the ribbons of her bonnet and laid it on the table next to Jace. A quick check of foreheads revealed all three children burned with fever.

  “Here we are.” Mrs. Kennedy swept through the doorway with a pan of water and several cloths.

  Rosemarie wet one of the rags, and ran it over Jace’s legs, arms, and face. Mrs. Kennedy did the same with Amelia.

  “I think they may have chicken pox.” Rosemarie could taste the fear in her mouth as she wrung out the cloth and moved to Chandler’s bed.

  “Now, dear, don’t you fret. I had two of my boys come down with chicken pox and they got through it just fine.”

  Rosemarie sat back on her heels and regarded the woman. “Really?” Taking a deep breath, she returned to her chore, somewhat reassured.

  “Yes. When Dr. Kennedy returns, he’ll take a look at them and see what needs to be done.”

  As Rosemarie tended to her children, her thoughts wandered to Daniel, on his way to Virginia. The beauty of their love making the night before brought tears to her eyes. She couldn’t help thinking the experience was unique. She’d never felt anything near that with Hans. When Daniel had entered her, slowly, afraid to hurt her even though she’d born three children, her heart filled. His tenderness, so different from her past experience with men, made her want to grab onto him, never let him go. Then within hours he’d kissed her goodbye and left.

  About fifteen minutes later, the front door of the house opened, and soon the doctor filled the doorway to the infirmary. “What have we here?”

  “All three of my children are sick. I think it may be chicken pox.”

  Dr. Kennedy set his hat on the counter next to Chandler’s cot and rested his medicine bag alongside it. After shrugging out of his coat, he knelt next to Chandler and pulled up his shirt. He ran his hand over the small bumps running from his chest to his neck. Then the doctor scooted over to Amelia, and then Jace, repeating the process with each one.