Angelfire

by Linda Lael Miller

  “At least show me to the sleeping car, then,” Bliss whispered desperately. It seemed to her that the other diners were looking on, and listening, and she felt self-conscious.

  “It’s too early to sleep,” Jamie scolded, and Bliss thought she saw one corner of his mouth quirk, although she might have imagined it.

  “Not after the day I’ve had, it isn’t,” she replied ruefully, and Jamie condescended to draw back Bliss’s chair and lead the way to the tiny chamber where they would spend the night.

  He unlocked the door for her and waited until she was inside. Soft gaslights gave the cubicle a romantic glow.

  “Good night, Bliss,” Jamie said with stiff formality.

  Bliss ached for a little understanding and a lot of forgiveness, but she was too proud to ask Jamie to stay. She had a suspicion he would have refused, because of his own pride. “Good night,” she said softly, lowering her eyes.

  Jamie closed the door and walked away, and Bliss stood there, fighting tears, for a minute or so. Then, with a rueful sigh, she let herself into a washroom roughly the size of a hatbox and performed her evening ablutions, taking special care in case Jamie should return in a generous mood.

  Her satchel had been brought to the car, but Bliss did not put on a nightgown. She stood at the window, peeping out through the blinds, watching as the darkened landscape slipped by. Jamie had told her they would reach their destination before dawn; perhaps that was why he didn’t plan to sleep.

  She sighed. The truth was that Jamie wanted to hide out in the club car, that was the one place his troublesome wife couldn’t get at him. This being a moving train, he had the added benefit of knowing that she wouldn’t be able to work any real mischief while he was avoiding her.

  Bliss looked at the two narrow berths the cubicle offered, one above the other, and shook her head. Even if she and Jamie had been on the best of terms, they would have been hard put to do anything about it.

  Resigned, she climbed into the lower berth and closed her eyes. She hadn’t expected to sleep so readily, but within moments a sweet, heavy lethargy came over her, dragging her downward into the safe darkness. Later, she was awakened by a piercing sort of joy that seemed to spiral magically from the very center of her womanhood.

  With a gasp of pleasure, she opened her eyes. Jamie was kneeling beside the berth, caressing her, and she moaned and moved her legs further apart to accommodate his gentle exploration. In the meanwhile, he lowered his lips to her bare breasts, covering them with soft, moist kisses that made their points strain toward him.

  Bliss entangled her hands in his rich, rumpled hair and purred with pleasure. “Oh Jamie,” she confessed breathlessly, “I didn’t think you were ever coming back—”

  He chuckled hoarsely as he singled out one pulsing nipple to enjoy. “Where—did you think—I would go, Duchess?”

  Bliss arched her back as a shaft of joy knifed through her, and Jamie didn’t relax his efforts. “I didn’t—oooooh—know—” She dragged air into her lungs, starved for it, unable to get enough. “Oh, Jamie, I’m so—sorry I t-troubled you—I love you—I love you—”

  “Shhh,” he said, and he began kissing the undersides of her breasts, and then her rib cage, and then her belly, progressing ever closer to where his fingers wreaked such delicious havoc.

  But Bliss maneuvered him back, until his lips covered hers in a kiss every bit as desperate as the one she returned to him. Long moments later, when the contact was broken, his breathing was ragged.

  Bliss unbuttoned his shirt, as far as she could, and slid her hands inside, urging him toward her with light caresses that seemed to leave a fever in his flesh wherever they touched.

  Now, Bliss wasn’t too proud to plead. “Come to me, Jamie,” she whispered. “Love me. I need you so much—”

  He laughed softly, and the sound was a mingling of joy and torment. “On that thing? I’ve seen bookshelves wider than that bed.”

  “Jamie,” Bliss insisted, drawing him back into her kiss. There were no more protests after that; his tongue sparred fiercely with hers and then, in a wink, he’d shed his clothes and poised himself above her.

  “It’s only fair to say,” he whispered hoarsely, “that every day I’ve known you ’as been sheer ’ell. And for all that, Duchess, I wouldn’t change a minute of it.”

  Bliss felt tears of happiness and humor burn in her eyes. She tilted her head back and raised her hips in proud surrender, for that was the only way she could answer, and Jamie entered her with a fiery stroke and broken, incoherent words of need and love.

  Chapter 19

  YAWNING, HER MIND HAPPILY BEFUDDLED FROM THE DELIGHTFUL rituals Jamie had put her through in the sleeping car, Bliss strained to make out the train depot in the predawn darkness.

  There was nothing to be seen, except for the outline of a tiny shack with a crooked chimney and the team and wagon waiting nearby. The horses nickered and pranced as the train whistle shrilled in the gloom.

  Jamie leaped to the ground and then lifted Bliss after him. Her trunks were unloaded with unceremonious dispatch and left in a heap beside the tracks.

  A dog began barking in protest as the whistle blew again and the train huffed away into the night, wheels making a raucous squeak against the metal rails.

  As they approached the wagon, Bliss recognized the bushy figure of Cutter O’Riley. “Hello, Jamie boy,” he said. He tipped his hat as Jamie hoisted his wife up into the seat. “And hello to you, too, missus,” he added.

  Bliss yawned, politely covering her mouth with one hand and settling herself, as best she could, on the hard seat. “Hello, Cutter,” she responded. Behind her, in the wagon bed, Dog whined and nudged her shoulder until he’d had a greeting, too.

  Jamie’s acknowledgment of his friend was without sentimental adornment. “Cutter,” he said with a brisk nod of his head.

  Cutter got down and together the two men put Bliss’s baggage into the back of the wagon, then Jamie climbed deftly up beside her, released the brake lever with one foot, and took the reins in his hands.

  Dawn was just beginning to extend tendrils of light over the hills and Cutter’s chuckle gave Bliss a feeling of camaraderie that pushed back the chill and the shadows a little way. She rested her head against Jamie’s shoulder and closed her eyes.

  “What’s so funny, old man?” Jamie asked with a companionable sort of insolence.

  Cutter’s amusement came out as a chortle this time. “You are, Jamie-me-boy. You are.”

  Jamie didn’t pursue the point, for reasons of his own. “Any trouble since I’ve been gone?”

  “Nothing the rest of us couldn’t deal with,” Cutter said. “That Maori girl up and left right after you did, so Dog and I have been doin’ the cookin’ and cleanin’.”

  Bliss dreaded to see the state of Jamie’s house, but at the same time, she was relieved that Carra would not be there to assist with the work. That kind of help she could do without.

  She sighed contentedly to think how romantic it would be, just her and Jamie in that isolated house. Surely, they would be able to resolve all their differences under such ideal circumstances. And he’d brought her along, at least, instead of leaving her in that fancy cage he’d bought in Auckland.

  By the time they’d reached home and come to a noisy stop in front of the barn, the sun was up. Feeling very domestic indeed, Bliss set out for the house as soon as Jamie had lifted her down from the wagon seat, Dog prancing happily at her heels.

  She gave the animal a cheerful pat on the head before opening the back door and stepping into the kitchen. The smile faded from her face when she saw the stacks of dirty pots, pans, and plates.

  With wifely resolve, Bliss took the apron that had been Carra’s from a peg beside the door and slipped it on. She was hard put to find a clean kettle to heat water in so that she could wash the other things, but it was steaming away on the stove when Jamie came in.

  Bliss had taken the enamel coffeepot outside to wash and fill it
at the pump, and her hands were numb and awkward with cold as she measured fresh grounds into its basket and set it on to perk.

  Jamie stopped her and lifted one of her reddened hands to his lips. There was a weary smile in his eyes when he said, “To bed with you, Duchess. You must be dead tired.”

  “I’m not going to bed unless you do,” Bliss asserted, then she blushed hotly. Cutter, who had come in with Jamie, made a great business of not having heard what she’d said, while Jamie grinned.

  “Tis a silver tongue you ’ave, lass,” he teased, his eyes twinkling. “Now that you mention it, I could use a wink of sleep.” Following that, he yawned with such emphasis that Cutter laughed out loud.

  Bliss was furiously embarrassed, and she might have kicked Jamie McKenna square in the shin if she hadn’t been so bent on being the best wife any man ever had. “You’ll have a decent breakfast if I have to cram it down your throat, Mr. McKenna,” she said firmly.

  Jamie arched his eyebrows as he took off his hat. “You cook, do you?” he asked, sounding damnably skeptical.

  Bliss glared at him as he shrugged out of his coat and hung it on a peg with his hat. Cutter followed suit, taking care not to notice anything that might be going on around him.

  “I do,” she said with a lift of her chin. “Who did you think prepared the meals at the lighthouse after Mama went away? My father?”

  “To tell you the truth, Duchess,” Jamie answered, kissing the tip of her nose, “I never gave that much thought.”

  “Well,” Bliss went on, after taking an audible breath, “I did all the work of that nature.” Never mind, she added to herself, that Papa always said a man could starve to death on cooking like mine. Papa was impossible to please anyway.

  Without so much as a by-your-leave, Cutter went to the stove and helped himself to the hot water Bliss had been reserving to wash up the mountain of dirty dishes and kettles. He proceeded to pour that water into a basin and lather his face and hands with pungent yellow soap.

  Jamie must have read Bliss’s expression, for he touched her cheek with gentle, wind-chilled fingers, running the pad of his thumb over her lips, stirring a sweet shiver in the depths of her. “No worries, Duchess,” he said. And then he took up two buckets and went outside, returning only a short time later with a generous supply of water.

  Cutter was so pleased to have a woman in the house that Bliss could not sustain her annoyance. She made up a meal of what was on hand—a few eggs and some salt pork—and both men ate heartily even though the meat was black around the edges and the egg yolks were hard clear through.

  At least the coffee was perfect, Bliss thought, looking down into her cup and listening with half an ear to the conversation going on between Jamie and Cutter. They’d talked of nothing but sheep throughout the meal.

  With a yawning sigh, Bliss got out of her chair and went back to the heap of soiled dishes. Now that breakfast was out of the way, she’d just tidy up the kitchen.

  When Cutter took the scraps out to Dog, Jamie came to stand close behind Bliss, his hands coming around to gently caress her breasts. “Go upstairs and rest,” he said, his voice moving warm and low past her ear. “All this work will still be ’ere when you wake up, Duchess.”

  Bliss let the back of her head rest against his granite shoulder, surrendering to the sleepy delight he was causing her. “Come with me,” she whispered, trembling as a wave of anticipation washed over her.

  But Jamie stepped back and gave her a mischievous swat. “For once, woman,” he said with mock sternness, “just do as I tell you.”

  Bliss turned, purposely letting him feel the softness of her breasts against his chest. She traced the outline of his jaw with the tip of one index finger, then caressed his lips. “Do you still want me, Jamie?” she asked.

  He caught her hand and held it tightly in his. “Birds still fly, rivers still flow into the sea, and what goes up still has to come down. Aye, Duchess, I want you.” He turned her and pointed her toward the rear stairway, giving her a slight push. “Now go, before I ’ave you right ’ere, dammit.”

  Bliss laughed and went upstairs. By memory, she found Jamie’s room; it was frigidly cold.

  Since there were shavings, kindling and firewood on the hearth, and matches on the mantel, Bliss got a nice blaze going before exchanging her clothes for one of Jamie’s flannel shirts. Her trunks had not been brought into the house yet.

  The sheets were like thin layers of ice when Bliss crawled between them, and she shivered, wishing that Jamie were there to hold her close. She yawned, and her eyes drifted shut, and the next thing she knew someone was washing her face with what felt like a slice of raw liver.

  Bliss gave a little squeal when she lifted her lids and found herself eye to eye with Dog. She heard a male chuckle as she bolted upright, ran one hand through her hair, and squinted into the deep shadows that filled the room. “Jamie?”

  He was a tall, broad-shouldered outline, stirring the dying fire with a poker. “Aye, Duchess. It’s me. Are you ’ungry?”

  Bliss yawned. “Yes,” she said, with conviction. “What time is it, anyway?”

  “It’s night, love.”

  “You mean, I slept the whole day away?” Bliss was filled with chagrin. She’d meant to do so many constructive things with her time.

  Jamie raised a mug to his lips, then set it on the mantel. “There’ll be another along tomorrow, like as not,” he observed dryly before striding over to the bed. “Cutter and I will go to town for supplies in the morning. For now, this is all I could come up with.”

  Neat slices of bread and cold mutton and dried fruit tempted Bliss’s appetite. She accepted the plate with thanks and ate hungrily. “There’s a town around here?” she asked between bites.

  “Not much of one,” Jamie answered, with a kind of remote amusement in his voice. He was sitting on the edge of the bed now, idly stroking Dog’s furry head. “Most of the necessities can be ’ad there, anyway.”

  Even though Bliss had slept the day away, like some slattern given to drink, she was far from rested. The rigors of past days, it seemed, were catching up with her. “I’m sorry,” she said when she’d finished eating and set the plate aside.

  “For what?” Jamie immediately asked.

  Bliss sighed and settled back against the pillows. “I’d planned to show you what a fine wife I’m going to be,” she lamented.

  Jamie muttered a command to Dog, and the animal slunk away to settle itself by the hearth with a whimper. Bliss smiled. “I thought he was Cutter’s pet,” she said.

  “No sheepdog is a pet,” Jamie answered, and he spoke with a seriousness that gave Bliss pause. “They earn their keep.”

  “And if they don’t?” Bliss asked, supposing that wives were expected to earn their keep as well.

  “We shoot them,” Jamie replied.

  Bliss felt cold, even though the room was warm. “As easily as that? You just dispense with the poor beasts because they’ve displeased you?”

  Jamie sighed and began undressing. “Cutter and I are off the ’igh country for a time, Bliss, startin’ day after tomorrow. Do you think we could manage to get along in the meantime?”

  Bliss was near tears again. Lord, she hated how she’d become so weepy these past few weeks. It was all she could do not to grasp Jamie’s arm and beg him not to leave her behind, and her throat was so constricted that she could barely speak. “I want to go along,” she said hopelessly.

  “Not this time.” Jamie tossed back the covers to lie down beside her, and the fading firelight flickered over his bare flesh with a pagan rhythm. “It’s too cold in the ’ills, Bliss.”

  Bliss knew by Jamie’s tone that there was no point in arguing; he’d made up his mind, and for now at least, she wouldn’t oppose him. “What if those dreadful men come here and try to hurt me?” she demanded.

  Jamie’s hand rested lightly on her naked thigh, causing little sparks of splendor to crackle through her veins. “They won’t,” he said
with a quiet assurance that was all very well for him to espouse when he wasn’t going to be in any danger.

  Bliss trembled as his fingers moved along her upper leg, laying claim to the satin flesh they passed over, and Jamie laughed, his voice at once soft and gruff.

  “If you were any kind of husband, Mr. McKenna,” Bliss whispered as a lovely ache began deep in her middle, “you wouldn’t go off and leave me to fend for myself!”

  He rolled over to give her a lingering kiss that set her languid senses throbbing. “If I thought you wouldn’t be safe ’ere,” he retorted, nibbling at her lower lip, “I’d take you with me. And as for that remark about the kind of’usband I am, love—”

  Bliss groaned as he slid down to take leisurely suckle at her breast. In the coming minutes, she was forced to concede that Jamie McKenna was the grandest of husbands.

  The look of concentration on Bliss’s face was so intense that Jamie had to stop and watch her. Holding an upended broom with both hands, she advanced toward the rooster guarding the henhouse door. At the last second, the bird flew at her in a flurry of squawking rage, and Bliss shrieked, dropped the broom, and whirled to run away, colliding hard with Jamie.

  He loved it when she did that.

  “Is there a problem, Duchess?” he asked smoothly, watching with delight as her indigo eyes flashed and her freckles stood out prominently.

  “Yes!” she cried, full of fury. “That stupid, vainglorious chicken won’t let me gather the eggs! I’ve been trying all day!”

  Jamie held back a smile. “No wonder he doesn’t like you,” he observed solemnly, his hands resting on her trembling shoulders. “You’ve insulted ’im by callin’ ’im a mere chicken. Caesar’s a rooster, love.”

  That fabulous blue fire was still burning in her eyes. “Caesar’s going to be a shepherd’s pie if he keeps this up!” she shouted.

  Unable to hold back his amusement any longer, Jamie laughed and kissed Bliss on the forehead. “There now, Duchess, is that any way to greet your own dear ’usband when ’e’s been gone all the day long?”