Wyoming Bride

by Joan Johnston

  “I came to join my father at Fort Laramie six months ago,” Emaline said. “I think I was introduced to every bachelor between here and Cheyenne. I met Flint first, and I really liked him. Then I met Ransom. He smiled at me and …” She shrugged. “I knew I wanted him to smile at me like that for the rest of my life.”

  “I doubt Ransom is going to keep smiling if you keep him at arm’s length in bed,” Hannah said.

  “That’s frank speaking. But I think you’re wrong. In fact, that’s why I’m here. To prove that you and Ransom are wrong, and I’m right.”

  “How do you plan to do that?”

  “Until my aunt returns from Denver, I’ll be living here with Ransom as man and wife, even sleeping together, but without … you know. I’m hoping to prove that being together, having a life together without … you know … can be just as satisfying, and a lot safer, than the alternative.”

  “Hmm. That sounds surprisingly like what Flint and I are doing. Including the lack of a physical relationship. He and I were planning to sleep in separate bedrooms, since Ransom was gone. I suppose now Flint will have to sleep somewhere else, since you and Ransom will be in his bedroom.”

  “Maybe Flint can sleep on the sofa in the parlor,” Emaline suggested.

  “That won’t be very comfortable, but I suppose he’ll have to manage.”

  “Or you could do what I’m doing.”

  It took Hannah a moment to realize what Emaline was suggesting. She gasped. “Sleep in the same bed with Flint? When we’re not married?”

  Emaline grinned. “You’ve been married before, so there’s no question of losing your virtue. It would be entirely up to you whether you wanted to do anything more than sleep in the same bed. And you could find out whether he snores.”

  “Now who’s being funny?” Hannah said.

  “I wish you’d consider it,” Emaline said earnestly. “It was hard to talk Ransom into trying this experiment. When he finds out you’re here, he might want to forget the whole thing.”

  “To be honest, it doesn’t sound like a very good idea to me, either,” Hannah said. “Have you thought about how hard it will be for Ransom to sleep next to you and not be allowed to touch?”

  “Oh. Didn’t I tell you? It’s all right for him to kiss and touch. We just won’t … do it.”

  Hannah shook her head in disbelief. “Ransom agreed to that?”

  Emaline made a face. “He thinks he can convince me to give in.”

  “So you’re determined not to give in, but he’s allowed to try and change your mind?”

  “That’s about it,” Emaline said.

  “I think you’re both crazy.”

  Emaline’s jaw jutted. “Maybe it is crazy for me to have so much fear of childbirth. But my fear is real, Hannah. I love Ransom so much I think I might die if I can’t spend my life with him. But I’m not willing to give up my life for a little pleasure in bed, or even the joy of holding a child of my own in my arms.”

  “Those two things—an intimate relationship with his wife and a child of his own blood—are a great deal for any man to give up,” Hannah said. “Ransom must be very much in love with you to even consider it.”

  Emaline’s dark eyes swam with tears. “I don’t think he’s willing to give up those things. I don’t think he’ll marry me if I don’t change my mind.”

  “So you’re betting that you can change his?”

  Emaline nodded.

  Hannah stared at the young woman, wondering how Emaline could let the fear of anything at all make her give up the man she loved. Hannah made up her mind, then and there, to do what she could to help the couple. Which meant she was probably going to have to share a bedroom with Flint.

  Hannah shivered. The thought of sleeping in the same bed as Flint left her feeling a little anxious and, if she was perfectly honest, a little breathless with anticipation.

  “You’re suggesting we what?” Flint said to Hannah.

  “You heard me,” Hannah said. “And I can hear you fine, so you don’t have to shout.”

  After the four of them had eaten supper, Hannah had brought Flint into his bedroom and closed the door so they could have a private conversation. Emaline had taken Ransom into his bedroom to have a similar discussion.

  “Ransom might be crazy enough to try sleeping with a woman without bedding her, but I’m not,” Flint said.

  Hannah felt her cheeks go pink at such blunt speaking. “Not even to help your brother?”

  Flint stared at her in disbelief. “What you’re suggesting goes a long way past courting. What happens if you decide we don’t suit?”

  “As Emaline pointed out, you can hardly steal my virtue. Besides, nobody knows I’m here. When she returns from Denver, Emaline’s aunt Betsy will escort Emaline—or Emaline and me—to the fort with no one the wiser. I’ll be a friend of Emaline’s from back East that she met up with in Denver.”

  He looked wary, Hannah thought, as though she were trying to trick him.

  “I can see why Emaline proposed this setup. I don’t see why you’re willing to go along.”

  “I’m doing it to help your brother and his fiancée,” Hannah said.

  “How is the two of us sleeping in the same bed going to help them?”

  “For one thing, you won’t be spending your nights on that too-short sofa in the parlor, or on the floor somewhere, so Ransom won’t feel guilty. And you’ll be less grumpy in the mornings,” Hannah said with a smile meant to cajole. “It won’t be so bad sleeping in the same bed, will it?”

  “I don’t know,” he said. “Do you snore?”

  Hannah laughed. “I don’t think so. Do you?”

  “Haven’t had any complaints.”

  The answer suggested he’d spent the night with other women. Hannah took another look at the man who’d saved her life. Certainly he would be attractive to other women. She fought a shiver—of anticipation?—every time she looked directly into his gray eyes. She felt aware of him with her whole being.

  Hannah wondered if she’d felt this way about her late husband, but the only memory she had was that single harsh image that had flashed into her head during her talk with Emaline. She certainly couldn’t recall wanting to be held by Mr. McMurtry or kissed by him, two things she found herself imagining with Flint.

  She met Flint’s gaze and felt a thrill of danger as she asked, “Well, what do you think?”

  “I’d rather sleep on the floor.”

  Hannah frowned. “Really?”

  “I think this whole house of cards is going to fall in on itself,” he said. “Those two have their own problems. I don’t think we should take them on our shoulders.”

  “You do want to help your brother, don’t you?”

  A look Hannah couldn’t fathom—guilt? chagrin? despair?—crossed Flint’s face. He hesitated, then said, “I suppose.”

  “Then this is what I think we have to do. Besides, kissing and touching is part of courting, and since I only have a short while to make up my mind about whether to marry you, I think this might help me, too. Aren’t you even the least bit curious to see whether we would suit that way?”

  Hannah’s cheeks felt rosy with heat. She’d had more intimate conversations with strangers in the past few days than ever before in her life. At least, it felt like she had.

  Flint didn’t answer right away. He put a hand to the back of his neck, rubbed it once, then said, “Yeah. Sure. All right.”

  “You’ll do it?”

  “I said I would. What else do you want from me?”

  He was agreeing, but he didn’t sound happy about it. “Is there something wrong with Emaline that makes her a bad match for your brother?” Hannah asked.

  “No! Emaline is perfect.”

  Hannah stared with wondering eyes at the man who’d proposed to her, aware of the sudden tension in the room. She fixated on his one-word description of Emaline because it seemed so odd to describe any woman in those terms, but especially one who belonged to ano
ther man. “Perfect?”

  He threw up his hands. “You know what I mean.”

  “Perfect how?” Hannah persisted.

  “She’s beautiful, for one thing.”

  Hannah felt a twinge of jealousy and told herself not to be stupid. She couldn’t quibble with his description of Emaline as beautiful. She’d thought the same thing. Besides, Emaline was engaged to Flint’s brother. He could admire Emaline all he wanted, but that wasn’t going to change the fact that she’d chosen Ransom.

  “Gentle. Sweet. A true lady,” Flint continued, listing more qualities he admired. “Any man would be proud to have her to wife. My brother is a very, very lucky man.”

  Emaline smothered a gasp. It was the second very she found alarming. Did he wish Emaline had chosen him? Did he secretly hope Emaline and Ransom would split up so he could have Emaline for himself?

  Hannah reined in her vivid imagination. That was a pretty big assumption to make when she knew nothing about the parties involved. Besides, the fact that Flint had proposed to her was proof he wasn’t in love with the other woman. Wasn’t it?

  “I suppose we should get ready for bed,” she said.

  “You want me to leave so you can get undressed?” he asked.

  “I don’t know. I would plead modesty, but you’ve already seen everything of me there is to see. Seems to me, turn about is fair play,” she said, smiling up at him. “What do you think?”

  “I think this is looking and sounding more and more like the real thing,” he said, eyeing her askance.

  “Isn’t that the whole point?” Hannah said, her hands on her hips. “Ordinarily neither of us would have this opportunity to get to know each other so well before we’re committed to living together for the rest of our lives. Why not take advantage of it?”

  He looked startled. Then he smiled. And raised a brow. And eyed her slowly up and down. “All right, Hannah. Let’s see how serious you are about playing husband and wife.”

  Hannah felt a shiver of expectation run down her spine as Flint took three long strides to stand directly before her. He reached behind her head, untied the ribbon holding her hair, then untangled the single braid confining her hair and thrust his fingers into it, spilling blond curls around her shoulders.

  Hannah felt breathless. She looked up into Flint’s gray eyes and found them focused on her face. “What are you doing?”

  “You said we could kiss. And touch.”

  “But …”

  He paused with his fingers caught in her hair and said, “Have you changed your mind? Are you willing to admit this is a lunatic idea?”

  Hannah was frozen in indecision. She hadn’t considered the possibility that Flint would want to touch so soon. If she denied him now, he might decide she wasn’t serious about her offer and make himself a bed on the sofa or the kitchen floor. Then she would lose the chance to see what this part of their marriage might be like.

  She swallowed noisily and said, “Go ahead.”

  Hannah saw surprise in his silvery gray eyes before they turned dark as storm clouds. Hannah knew the instant he slid a callused hand around to grasp her nape that she had never felt this way before. She began to tremble and wondered whether it was from fear or excitement.

  She looked into Flint’s eyes as he lowered his head toward hers until it was uncomfortable to do so, then let her eyelids sink closed and waited with bated breath for whatever would come next. She had a feeling of exhilaration, of possibility. Their first kiss. She wanted it to be wonderful. Was this man her Prince Charming?

  Flint’s lips felt soft as he pressed them lightly against hers seeking surrender. Hannah pushed back against his mouth with her own seeking something precious. Something new. Something amazing.

  His arm slid around her waist and he pulled her close, so their bodies touched from breasts to hips. Hannah felt her nipples become tight buds against his chest, and noticed a strange ache in her womb. Her arms found their way around his neck, and she grasped handfuls of his hair to prolong the kiss.

  Hannah’s hands slid down to muscular shoulders that felt as hard as sculpted stone. She found herself wondering what it would be like to touch Flint’s naked flesh. She pressed herself against him, wanting to be closer.

  She suddenly felt his tongue tease her lips, and when she gasped, he slid it into her mouth to tease and touch. She could taste him! Her knees turned to mush. She clung to his shoulders to keep from sinking to the floor and leaned back to stare at him wide-eyed.

  Did I ever kiss my husband like this?

  Hannah didn’t think so. This felt new. This felt different.

  She was trembling so hard Flint must be able to feel it. Had he known what that touching of tongues would do to her?

  She pushed against his chest with the flat of both hands, to put space between them, to give herself time to think, but she might as well have been pushing against a forty-ton boulder.

  Hannah looked up into Flint’s face and saw his gray eyes glittering with desire. She was panting for breath, and her legs threatened to buckle. She realized she wanted him. Desperately. Wanted to lie beneath him. Wanted him inside her.

  The powerful feelings frightened her.

  Hannah clutched Flint’s shirt with both fists to keep herself upright, took a shuddering breath, and said, “That was … nice.”

  He stared at her for a moment, then threw his head back and guffawed. He gave her a quick, tight hug and then stepped back, grinning broadly, leaving her standing on wobbly legs. “Good for you, girl. Let’s go to bed.”

  Hannah stared, too enervated to move. She wasn’t sure what she’d said to amuse Flint, but she was glad he wasn’t angry that she’d called a halt to his lovemaking. Lovemaking. That word suggested feelings that didn’t exist between the two of them. Seduction. That was more to the point.

  Flint crossed to the low wooden chest at the foot of the bed and began rummaging through it, finally coming out with another gray blanket. “I might be foolish enough to share the bed,” he said, “but I think I’ll sleep on top of the covers.”

  Hannah was still frozen in place as he began to ready himself for bed. She turned slightly away to give him privacy. But gazing at the fireplace, where a warm, cheery fire was burning, gave her far too much time to think.

  She touched her still-damp lips. She’d liked Flint’s kiss far more than she’d expected, probably because it had involved more than lips. Their bodies had been entwined, and she’d felt the warmth and the strength of him. His hands had been thrust into her hair, pulling her head back so he could claim her mouth.

  Hannah shivered.

  “Hey, you’re getting cold. You better get under the covers,” Flint said.

  “Right,” Hannah replied, crossing to the bed and turning down the covers. Her body was still quivering with remembered pleasure. She’d wanted to be courted, but Flint seemed to have skipped over several steps, like holding hands and taking walks, to kisses that involved not just lips, but teeth and tongues.

  She sat on the edge of the bed and stared while Flint pulled off his vest and began unbuttoning his shirt. She’d told him it wasn’t necessary that he leave the room while she disrobed, because he’d seen all there was to see, but she hadn’t realized how discombobulating it would be to watch this almost-stranger strip down.

  Hannah found herself entranced as Flint dropped his shirt on a nearby chair, leaving him in his long john shirt. There was nothing skinny about this man. She was admiring the breadth of his shoulders when he pulled the long john shirt off over his head.

  She suppressed a gasp. Everything about him looked hard as rock, from ridged abdomen to broad chest, from sinewy forearms where veins stood out, to shoulders rippling with muscle. When he looked up and caught her staring, she flushed and said, “You’re beautiful.”

  He looked surprised, then made a face. “That’s the wrong word to describe a man.”

  “Nevertheless, you are.”

  Abruptly, he grabbed his long john shir
t and pulled it back on. Then he retrieved his plaid wool shirt and thrust one arm into a sleeve. He hunted for the other sleeve behind his back as he said, “I just realized I forgot to put some harness away in the barn.”

  A moment later he was gone.

  Hannah stared at the closed bedroom door. So this was desire. Or was it lust? Whichever it was, she’d better figure out a way to control it. At least until she was sure Flint wasn’t in love with his brother’s fiancée.

  Flint didn’t know what had come over him. He’d kissed Hannah because he’d thought that would prove to her the danger of the two of them sleeping in the same bed. What had happened next had been totally unexpected. Especially in light of the fact that he was in love with another woman.

  He stared at Ransom’s closed bedroom door before he headed downstairs, buttoning his shirt along the way. He wondered if his brother was doing with Emaline what he’d been doing with Hannah. That way lay madness. He hurried downstairs and left the house through the kitchen, headed to the barn. There was enough moonlight to see his way but he lit a lantern before he closed the barn door behind him.

  Most of the horses remained as they were in their stalls, dozing on three legs or lying down in the straw. He hadn’t taken two steps into the barn before he was assailed by the pungent odor of manure. Another step brought the smell of fresh hay and leather.

  “You awake, Buck?” he called out.

  A moment later, his horse’s head appeared over the top of a wooden stall door.

  Flint hung the lantern on a nearby hook, then crossed to the stall and reached out to stroke Buck’s neck. “Yeah, I know it’s late,” he said. “But I needed to talk, and you’re a good listener.”

  The horse shook his head and snorted.

  “My problem is a woman, of course. What else could it be?” He laughed at himself. “Rustlers, I suppose. I’ve got a hundred head of cattle missing and a pretty good idea that the man who stole them is the meanest, baddest—and second-richest—guy around.