She turned off her light and sat on her bed, waiting and listening.
She had friends. That surprising knowledge wrapped around her like a warm quilt. At the Indian school friends had been a luxury. The children had clung more to fellow members of their tribes, that or pining for home so desperately that they faded and died before the teachers at the school could do anything about it. She had seen too many of her peers die before their tenth birthday, watched too many other children act up in rage at their fate only to be beat down by the school administrators. The only way she had survived the bleakness was to block everyone else out, to focus on her studies, and to move on.
It had been easy to block out everything but her teaching as she moved from schools in Pennsylvania to Chicago. Cold Springs was another story. She was not just another teacher here, another curiosity. People here saw her differently. Jessica saw her differently. So did Snow In Her Hair and River Woman. Maybe it was because there were others who looked like her nearby. Maybe it was because they needed her.
Christian saw her differently. He saw her as a rival, an ally, a lover. Every fiber in her body wanted to go to him, be with him.
Footsteps passed in front of her door as the warm, giddy thought hit her. She gasped, then held her breath, waiting for Miss Jones to decide that this was the night she should look in on her boarders to be sure they were in bed.
The click of the electric lights being turned off sounded and the sliver of light under Lily’s door went black. The footsteps walked on, and moments later the door to Miss Jones’s room opened then shut. The house was silent.
Lily gave herself half an hour. For half an hour she sat and listened to the creaking silence of the house. When the time finally came, she got up and crept out into the hall in almost perfect silence. Jessica wouldn’t say a word if she heard her get up, but Gladys might very well report her to Miss Jones if she suspected a thing.
She checked Gladys’s room. A faint light shone from under the door, as if Gladys had a candle lit, perhaps to read. Lily shut the door to her room with infinite care, then took slow, careful steps to the stairs.
She expected the whole house to wake and sound the alarm with each step she took down the stairs to fetch her coat. She was certain half of Cold Springs could hear her as she shrugged into her winter things and stole down the hall and into the kitchen.
The cellar stairs creaked far louder than she had remembered them when Jessica had showed her. The cellar itself was nearly pitch black and she had to feel her way along a wall that she wouldn’t have dreamed of touching in any other circumstance to make it to the nearly horizontal door. The door pushed open with little effort, and within a few seconds Lily was standing in the snowy back yard, shivering but free.
She closed the cellar door with as much care as she had the door to her bedroom, then rushed through the garden and out the gate into the street, certain someone would catch her. Thick clouds in the sky covered any hint of moon or stars. She jogged away from the boarding house and into town. There would still be people out in town at this time of night, but if she was careful, no one would recognize her. All she needed to do was slip behind the courthouse to Christian’s house, make sure that he hadn’t done anything foolish and that he had a plan of attack for the morning, and then steal away home. Nothing more would happen.
Christian sat at his kitchen table, one hand wrapped around the handle of a cooling cup of coffee and the other holding the day’s newspaper. Cyrus Malt published two papers a week, one on Saturday and one on Wednesday. This Wednesday’s edition—packed cover to cover with news about the robberies and school events—had been waiting for him when he got home from a frustrating day of work.
He poured over it now, looking for any signs of what Samuel was up to with Lieutenant Wilkins, any sign of the trouble they intended to cause.
If only it had taken a long time to find.
“In response to the recent string of robberies, town councilman Samuel Kuhn has pledged to clean up the lawlessness in Cold Springs,” the article read. “To do so, he said he is willing to explore fresh options that his opposition on the town council is loath to consider. ‘There is more to law enforcement than letting a fourth-rate sheriff stroll the streets giving citizens dirty looks,’ Mr. Kuhn is quoted as saying. ‘We need a more structured law enforcement so that lawbreakers—all lawbreakers, both small-time and large-scale—are caught and brought to justice.’ When asked how he planned to implement this new strategy, Mr. Kuhn stated that he would bring in expert consultants and demand the town council review its law-enforcement strategy.”
It wasn’t news that Samuel was strong-arming the town council. That had been apparent for weeks. It was what lay between the lines—the mention of all lawbreakers—that settled uneasily on Christian’s shoulders. Between the newspaper and the things Wilkins had said at the courthouse, Christian had the bad feeling everyone from the prisoner in the jail to Sturdy Oak and his people had better watch their backs.
Lily would have to watch her back.
Christian sighed and tossed the newspaper on the tabletop. The thought burned a hole in his gut. He took a long drink of his lukewarm coffee before grimacing and pushing his chair back. If Samuel so much as hinted trouble was in store for Lily, then maybe it was time for him to bypass Kent entirely and find the thieves himself.
He blew out a breath as the energy of the thought spiked then left him. As much as he wanted to, he couldn’t waltz in and do Kent’s job for him. He could, however, stand over the man’s shoulder and make sure he did what he was paid for.
He was halfway to the sink to dump his coffee when a knock sounded on his door. He scowled, emptied the coffee down the drain and set the cup aside, then crossed the kitchen into the front room of his small house. The knock came again, too quiet to be any kind of an emergency that would warrant him having to answer the door in his house-sweater hours after dark.
“What?” he demanded as he opened the door.
Lily stood on the other side. She was bundled in her coat and disheveled enough from the stiff breeze that swirled snow between his house and the courthouse to look like a wildcat after a bowl of milk. His body reacted with enough force to fell a tree.
She blinked at the hot and hard look he gave her, shifting from startled to irate so fast that he almost didn’t feel the bottom go out of his stomach.
“I was coming to make sure you hadn’t done anything rash,” she whispered, more of a hiss, “but if you treat all of your visitors like this….”
She turned to leave. He grabbed her arm and pulled her through the door into his living room, shutting the door behind her.
“What are you doing here? It’s late,” he asked, still holding her arm.
She was chilled and seemed to suck all of the heat in the room straight into her. It made him want to wrap himself around her and warm her up even more.
“I just told you why I’m here,” she said. “I wanted to make certain you didn’t cause a scene with Mr. Kuhn and Lieutenant Wilkins at the jail today, that you didn’t make things worse.”
He dropped her arm and moved to rub his chin. An odd sort of relief joined his flaring desire and loosened the knot that the newspaper article had formed in his stomach. Regardless of her reasons, if she was here, he could keep her safe. He could do more than that, if she would let him. Her cheeks may have been rose-pink and her lips bright with cold, but it was the underlying spark in her eyes that made him smile.
“You’re here because you’re worried about what I said to Samuel and Wilkins?”
“Yes.”
“Lily, that’s the lamest excuse for knocking on my door at ten at night that anyone has ever given me.”
True to form, she bristled, planting her mittened hands on her hips. “Is that how you thank someone who is concerned about you? By insulting them?”
“If they’re being obtuse, yes,” he said, heart beating faster.
“Obtuse?” she responded with all the fire h
e loved about her. “For caring whether you embarrass yourself in front of a rival? For hoping you are smart enough not to alienate the people who could help you release that man in the jail and keep Sturdy Oak’s people safe?”
His grin dropped at her words. “They’re safe. I swear they are. Shouldn’t you be in bed by now?”
Of all things, instead of railing at him she turned a deep shade of rose and lowered her head.
“I….”
Nothing followed. She shifted her weight, swaying slightly, mittened hands clenched in front of her. Her hair was escaping in wisps from her big, shapeless hat and the braid down her back. She looked like a guilty schoolgirl who had been blown halfway across Montana. Good lord, how he wanted her!
He took a deep breath, debating whether to strip her out of her winter things and bend her over the arm of his sofa or send her on her way or waiting to see what might happen next. He needed to make a decision fast. The sight and smell of her there in his home was making him harder by the second.
“Lily,” he hummed her name, “Why are you here?”
“I just told you,” she mumbled, refusing to look up.
He took a step closer. Her eyes snapped up so suddenly that he was certain she’d gotten a good look at the evidence of his need pressing against his trousers.
“I’m concerned about my students, about the Flathead and that man in jail,” she said, fast and hoarse.
“Is that why you’re really here?” he asked, watching the spark in her eyes as she stole another peek at his erection, “to express your concern?”
She twisted her hands in her mittens, sucking in a short breath as she worked her way around to an answer. He should turn her around and kick her out right then, but the ache in his groin had other plans.
“Lily?” He inched closer.
“No, that’s not why I’m here.”
She turned away to pull off her mittens and hat, tossing them on the table by the door. She brushed away a black strand of hair that had caught in her eyelashes. Those simple gestures and the way she reached for her coat buttons sent his temperature soaring.
“Then why are you here?” he asked. He stepped behind her to take her coat.
As she shrugged the heavy garment into his hands the smell of lavender and Lily filled the air. He wanted to throw her things down and pull her into his arms, never let her go, but instead he walked her coat to the rack beside the front door and hung it.
“We need to come up with a plan of action to counter whatever moves this soldier, Wilkins, makes. I—”
The moment he turned to face her, Lily stopped talking. Their eyes met. The truth was painted there in her face, in her soul, the longing and the loneliness. Beyond that, she smoldered. She wanted him.
Neither of them was getting out of this night in one piece.
“You?” he prompted, his voice dropping to a timbre too deep for casual conversation.
“I’m…worried.”
He walked back to her, stopping so close he could feel the heat emanating from her. He brushed her chin and raised her face to look at him.
“You have nothing at all to be worried about, sweetheart.”
“I think I do.” Her voice cracked. She struggled to meet his eyes. “I can’t…. I want….”
This vulnerability from her was new. It made her soft and appealing, completely kissable. It had every sinew in his body aching for her.
“What do you want?” He reached out and brushed the loose hair away from her face, letting his fingertips linger on her cheek. She didn’t flinch, didn’t pull away. Her breath came in shallow gasps, pulling the fabric of her dress tight over the swell of her breasts.
At last she tilted her head up and met his eyes.
“You,” she whispered. “I want you.”
“I know, sweetheart.”
He had his arms around her before she could protest or flash back to the wildcat part of herself. He lifted her up to meet his kiss. The faint touch of winter lingered on her skin as he parted her lips with his. He closed his eyes and poured himself into that kiss, drawing her to him with the force of his desire for her. His arms closed more tightly around her, fingertips pressing into her back.
Whatever she was holding onto melted like snow in spring. She returned his kiss with a sigh of abandonment, threading her fingers into his hair. Her mouth was eager on his, her tongue sweeping boldly against his. Her fire only fueled his own as he took everything he wanted from her, the sweetness of her kiss and the heat of her passion. He tasted her, sucked on her bottom lip, and still wasn’t satisfied. He moved a hand to cradle her breast, excited and frustrated by the stiffness of her corset and the promise of warm flesh beneath.
“I came here to make love to you,” she confessed. Her words came out in a rush, and she gasped as soon as she heard them.
That sharp intake of breath coupled with the most tantalizing words he’d ever heard spread a grin across his face so wide that he didn’t think he’d ever be able to frown again.
“Bedroom’s this way,” he answered and swept her into his arms.
Chapter Fourteen
Lily’s breath came in gasps that were so short and shallow her head spun. Christian lifted her off her feet as if she weighed nothing and carried her across his small front room and through an open door into a cramped but serviceable bedroom. He set her on her feet at the side of a bed covered in a faded blue quilt. Without hesitation, he folded her in his arms and brought his mouth crashing over hers.
He hadn’t taken her declaration to be a joke. He was as serious as could be as he kissed her, so deep she couldn’t catch her breath. He caressed her, hands exploring the lines of her sides and squeezing the mound of one breast with an urgency that made her writhe with impatience to be out of her clothes. The heat of his body pressed to hers with far more intimacy than she had ever experienced sent her heart racing. All it had taken was a simple declaration of purpose.
It was madness. She ordered herself to stop, but it was useless. She circled her arms around Christian’s back, delving under the thick sweater he wore to feel the hard lines of his muscles beneath the thin cotton of his shirt. It didn’t matter that they weren’t married or that she had a reputation to uphold or even that it was a school night. The wanting won.
She tugged his shirt out of the waist of his pants, cursing the suspenders that blocked her from touching the heat of his skin.
“Here,” he whispered, breaking away from her long enough to yank his sweater up over his head.
He didn’t stop there. He shrugged out of his suspenders and fumbled with the buttons of his shirt and cuffs. She stood transfixed and breathless as he yanked his shirt over his head and threw it on the floor beside his sweater, as if he thought nothing of taking off his clothes in front of her.
The ripple of his broad, muscular chest as he completed the gesture sent a jolt of fire to her core. A touch of dark hair spread across defined muscles. She followed the line it made down over a smooth, flat stomach to the waist of his pants sitting low on his hips. A distinct bulge stood out against the fabric, making her already unsteady legs watery with expectation.
She was lost, dizzy with desire, balancing between raw need and panic. She was supposed to do something. This was a seduction, after all. Shaking with uncertainty, she reached for the fastening of his pants.
“Uh-uh.” He stopped her hands, holding them at her sides and leaning in to her. He stole a deep kiss then said, “Not until I see you.”
To underscore his point he reached for the buttons at the top of her high collar.
“Yes, of course.”
Her breath caught in her throat as he sped through the row of tiny buttons on her bodice. Each brush of his hands ignited ripples of pleasure along her skin. He followed the buttons all the way down to her waist, tugging her bodice out of her skirt then pushing it back over her shoulders to expose her corset.
The bodice caught at her wrists, trapping her hands in bunches of fabric an
d cuffs that should have been unbuttoned first. She struggled to free herself, succeeding only in tangling her arms. Embarrassment poked holes in her passion. She bit her lip, shaking her arms harder and harder and cursing at her shirt.
Christian stopped her, hands clamping on her bare arms. “Lily, what are you doing?”
“I’m stuck,” she panted, feeling small and confused and on fire with him standing so close, naked from the waist up. She couldn’t look at him. “I don’t know what I’m doing.”
“I know,” he said with a devilish grin. He slid his hands down her arms to hold her fettered hands behind her back.
She ventured a hesitant glance up at him. The fire in his eyes was so deep she couldn’t breathe. Her chest strained against her corset.
“I think I like you this way.”
To prove his point he kissed her. The pressure of his mouth against hers consumed her. His arms were tight around her, holding her still. There was nothing she could do to embrace him in return or even push him away if she had wanted to.
She didn’t want to. He pressed her close, lips moving from hers across the line of her jaw and down to her throat. She tipped her head back as his tongue licked over her raging pulse. The heat of his breath, of his body so entwined with hers, was heaven itself. Her sighs turned into a moan of such intensity that the sound sent shivers through her already ignited body.
Still he kissed her, lower and lower, until his lips planted the lightest of touches against the tops of her breasts as they strained to be free from her corset. Too much of her was wound up, trapped, and aching to break free. He slid his hands from the small of her back up over her sides to the fastenings of her corset. One by one he unhooked the impossible row of clasps holding her in.
In Your Arms (Montana Romance) Page 17
