“But I want to talk about you and Calliope,” Rosemarie said as she stirred milk into her tea. “I know your marriage was an unconventional one, but I know you quite well, and the little bit of time I got to spend with your wife convinces me you could have a good, solid marriage if you both try.”
He’d thought about what she’d said for a few hours after he left to sleep on his straw mattress. The sun was barely over the horizon when he searched out Daniel to tell him he was returning to Calliope.
His brother had not seemed surprised, which told him Rosie had most likely reported their conversation to Daniel. With a pat on the back, and a wish for success from his brother, Stephen rode out once again, stopping at the saloon to tell Jake he wouldn’t be back.
All those thoughts drifted through his mind as he enjoyed the warmth of her kiss. He’d forgotten how good Calliope tasted, and how perfect she felt in his arms. He broke off the kiss and brushed back the hair from her forehead. “You look tired.”
“I am. I take it you covered me with the blanket?”
“Yep. You were all called up into a ball, so I assumed you were cold. I was going to wake you when the food was ready.”
She leaned around him. “What are you making? It smells good. I’m hungry.”
“I haven’t eaten since a stopped for breakfast this morning, so I visited with the butcher in town and relieved him of two steaks. I found a jar of green beans and another of peaches. Not exactly a feast, but filling.”
“I have bread I can slice up.” She moved out of his arms and sliced the loaf as he finished up the steak and beans. “What time is it?”
“Nearly nine o’clock.”
She turned toward him, the knife in her hand. “How did you get in? I keep the door locked.”
“Sweetheart, we have to have a conversation about that. I climbed into the window right alongside where you slept.”
“Oh.”
“Yes. Oh.”
Within minutes they were seated across from each other, both of them grinning as they gorged on the steak, beans and bread. When that was gone, Calliope opened the peaches and they ate directly from the jar, laughing as their forks dueled for pieces of the sweet fruit.
She sat back in her chair and rubbed her stomach. “I ate too much.”
Stephen leaned his elbows on the table and studied her in the soft glow of the oil lamp. She was so beautiful and he’d missed her so much. But some things had to be settled before too much time passed. “Honey, we have to talk.”
His serious look had her sitting up straight. “Before we do that, I really need a bath. When I came in from the fields before I was exhausted, starving, and in need of a nice, hot soak.”
“I tell you what. I’ll heat your water and fill the tub, you clean up the dishes.”
“Thank you. I was dreading having to do that chore.” She stood and cleared the table, pumping water into the sink and pouring water from the tea kettle.
Stephen dragged the bathtub in, and set it up near the warmth of the stove. “Where’s Bertha?”
“Her mother took sick again. I don’t think she’ll be able to stay here much longer.” Calliope dried her hands on a towel and draped it over the dishes she’d just washed.
“Your bath is almost ready. Turn around and I’ll help you out of your dress.”
Her eyes grew wide. “You intend to stay here while I bathe?”
He walked across the room and took her gently by the shoulders. “If I stay, I’ll wash your back.” He kissed her neck. “And your hair.” He nibbled at the soft skin under her ear. “Turn around.”
She flushed at his words, but turned anyway. He loosened the buttons on the back of her dress and pushed it off her shoulders. Next he unlaced her corset, then untied her shift and let those drift down as well. The garments pooled at her feet, leaving her in only pantaloons. She might have felt as though she needed a bath, but the scent of her body enticed him. The light floral scent that came from her hair as he loosened her bun so the curls fell around her shoulders was like an aphrodisiac.
He felt her shiver as he drew down the last piece of clothing. He nuzzled her neck. “Better get into the tub before the water cools off.”
After climbing in and making a soft sigh that hard him hardening even more, he picked up the washcloth. “Move forward.” He proceeded to wash her back, then slid his hand down to minister to her breasts. When he moved even further, she took the cloth from his hands. “I can do the rest.”
He chuckled and grabbed a cup from the sink to wash her hair.
Calliope closed her eyes as Stephen poured the warm water over her head, then massaged her scalp with strong, measured strokes. Still reeling from his unexpected return, she completely forgot about the crisis with the farm. But for now, she pushed it aside, she was enjoying his attention too much.
“That feels so good,” she hummed.
“Once we’re done here, there are many other things I have planned to make you feel even better.”
She shivered, remembering the last time they’d made love. This time she promised she wouldn’t run him off because she was frightened. Nothing was more frightening than the problem she was facing now. It would be so much better to face it with Stephen by her side.
He’d said he loved her. She believed him because she’d come to realize the last week or so that she loved him as well. And once you’ve admitted love for someone, trust had to follow. And yes, she trusted him.
Her thoughts were interrupted when he said, “All done. Stand and I’ll dry you.”
She should have been embarrassed to stand naked before him, water dripping from her body, but with the look in his eyes, she felt like a goddess rising from the sea.
His eyes darkened as he laid a towel over her shoulders. “You are so beautiful. So perfect.” He ran the towel over her body, then without warning, dropped it to the ground and scooped her into his arms. His long legs ate up the distance between the tub and the bedroom. The entire time his mouth covered hers.
He placed her on the carpet in front of the fireplace where a small fire was burning. When had he done that?
“Dry your hair while I take a fast bath.” He turned to leave and looked over his shoulder. “Don’t get dressed.”
She felt wanton, sitting on the floor, combing her hair with not a stitch of clothing on. From the other room, the sounds of splashing and whistling reached her ears. She grinned, butterflies in her stomach waking up.
Her hair had dried somewhat, and was only damp when Stephen entered the bedroom, a towel draped around his hips. His curls fell over his forehead, and he gave her that slow, sexy smile as he strolled across the room. Her mouth went dry and she dropped her brush.
Oh, my.
He pulled her to her feet and slid his hands up her arms to cup her face in his strong hands. “I’ve thought of nothing but this for the past two weeks.” Bending his head, his mouth covered hers hungrily, his tongue slipping in to touch, to taste.
She could sense his arousal pressed against her, and needing the feel of skin on skin, she tugged the towel separating them and it dropped to the ground. How could she have forgotten the hardness of his body, the tightness of the muscles that bulged under her hands? Did she really think she could live the rest of her life without this?
His lips left her mouth and trailed to her jaw, neck, a slight nip to her collarbone, then a soothing with his tongue. She leaned away, his large hands spanning the width of her back as his mouth trailed down her chest to latch onto her nipple. He suckled, hard, and she felt it all the way to her cord.
His arm slid to her waist to hold her firm against him as her knees buckled. He continued to suck on her breast until she could no longer take a breath. Her body hummed and she felt alive for the first time in weeks. Stephen knelt, bringing her with him to the floor, where he stretched her out before him, his eyes taking in every inch of her slender form. Instead of embarrassment at his scrutiny, she experienced a wave of power at the darkening
of his eyes, the twitching of his arousal as if anxious to be inside her. Raising her arms up, she whispered, “Love me, Stephen.”
Piercing blue eyes held her, and with a groan, he trailed his fingers down her stomach to the curly hair at the apex of her thighs. Eyes drifting closed and with a slight hitch in her breath, she moved her legs apart to allow him to dip into her moist center. Meanwhile his lips were busy kissing the sensitive skin under her ear. She kept her hands occupied by running them over the angles and curves of his body.
Stephen raised his head to stare into her eyes. “I love you so much, and don’t want to live anymore without you.”
She twirled one of his curls in her fingers. “I love you, too, and I’m so sorry I drove you off. I knew as soon as I gave you that envelope that—”
He placed his finger on her lips. “It’s over now. No more separations.” He kissed her lightly on her lips. “Just love.”
With those words, he moved over and settled between her legs. The feel of his body resting on hers brought her such joy she almost cried out. Bracing himself on his elbows, he pushed his member into her opening, bringing a slight moan from deep within her. His slow and deliberate movements started the thrumming in her core. She shifted her bottom and wrapped her legs around his waist and immediately the added contact started her spiraling toward what her body ached for.
Stephen wrapped his hands around her head and pressed his lips to hers, more of a caress than a kiss. She ran her palms down his back, over the muscles that crunched and released as he moved in her. She tensed her muscles, straining for the release she sought.
“Relax, sweetheart, let me do the work.” The words had no sooner left his mouth than she exploded, waves of pleasure washing over her as a low keening came from deep within her. He covered her mouth with his as he gave one final push as he reached his release, also.
The next morning the sun streamed through the large bedroom window, bathing their bodies in a flood of warm light. Calliope turned and faced Stephen who was wide awake and staring at her, his head propped up on his hand. Memories of the night before flashed through her, setting her heart to gallop in her chest.
“Good morning.”
She smiled, so glad he had come home. Never again would she let her fear of control take over her life to the extent that she chased away the man she loved.
Then as if a cloud had passed over the sun, her spirits dropped. She sat up and pulled the sheet to cover her nakedness. Stephen took the sheet between his finger and thumb and attempted to yank it free. As much as she would like a repeat of the night before, she had to tell him about the mortgage.
“There is something serious I must discuss with you.”
Apparently sensing her mood, he dropped his hand and sat up alongside her. Taking her free hand in his, he said, “What is it? You seem worried.”
“I am.” She closed her eyes and attempted to compose herself. She didn’t want her control to crack like a dropped egg and cry for all she would lose. And most of all, she didn’t want Stephen to think she was happy to have him back only because of her dilemma. No matter how many times last night they professed their love for each other, it was important for him to know she wanted him back for himself.
“Rupert visited a couple of weeks ago.” She stopped when his hand tightened on hers and his body stiffened.
“I told him—“ he started.
“—he came with Mr.Traynor, the banker.”
Stephen’s brows came together. “What for?”
She told him the story, along with the second visit the day before. “I’ve searched his paperwork and can’t find any receipts for the payments.”
“Could it be your father put them in a special place, not with his other papers?”
“I’ve gone over the entire house, more than once, and can’t find them anywhere.”
Despite her best efforts, her eyes filled with tears that slid down her face. “I don’t know what to do. I know Papa was diligent in making those payments. But one hundred and eighty three dollars might as well be one million.”
Stephen put his arm around her shoulders and drew her to his chest. “I’m curious to know why Melrose is so anxious to buy the farm. Something doesn’t seem, right.”
She shook her head. “I have no idea. He’s always liked this farm because we have more water, but I know there’s something else. First he tried to force me to marry him and now he’s teamed up with Mr. Traynor to take my farm from me.”
“He’s not going to take your farm from you.” He hugged her close.
She rolled her eyes at him. “Oh? And where am I going to get one hundred and eighty-three dollars?”
He kissed her on the head. “I’m going to give it to you.”
Stephen felt good about his decision. It would make Calliope happy and therefore was the right thing to do.
Calliope broke free of his hold and stared at him. “You will? Where will you get that much money?”
He ran his knuckle down her cheek. “I’ve been saving since I came home from the war. I had planned to start a horse farm, like my brother has, and what we had as boys growing up. At last count, including the pay I received from you,” he grinned, “there is close to two hundred dollars.”
“A horse farm? Yes I remember you mentioning that.” She shook her head. “No. As much as I appreciate your offer, that’s your dream. I can’t take that money.”
Stephen took her face in his hands. “Listen to me, sweetheart. It’s my money, and I can do with it as I please.” He kissed her briefly. “Don’t you understand there are no dreams for me if you’re not happy? This farm means the world to you.”
“But—“
“No buts. We’ll go into town today, pay off the mortgage, celebrate with a nice dinner at the café, and go on with our lives.”
Calliope’s face crumbled and with the heels of her hands pressed against her eyes, she cried. After all she’d done, she certainly didn’t deserve his kindness.
Stephen swung his legs over the side of the bed, then pulled her up. “Let’s go. No more tears. We’ll get this over with.”
He smacked her lightly on her bare bottom. “Get dressed, Mrs. McCoy, your husband is taking you into town.” As she turned toward her wardrobe, he tugged her by the hand. “And where your best Sunday-go-to-meeting dress. And that funny little hat.”
They dressed, in between kisses and touches, gave the house one more search to make sure the receipts weren’t there, then headed to Sterling National Bank. The noon time sun was high in the sky as they arrived at the bank. The town was busy as usual, women going from shop to shop, little children trailing behind them, or holding onto their skirts.
There were three people in the bank, in line waiting to see the teller. A man with a wrinkled suit and stringy hair sat at a desk behind a railing. A plaque with “Mr. Traynor” sat on his desk. Stephen placed his hand on Calliope’s lower back and directed her toward the man’s desk.
Traynor looked up, his eyes grew wide, and he shifted his glance from him to Calliope. “May I help you?” To Stephen’s way of thinking, he looked decidedly uncomfortable.
Stephen nudged Calliope around the railing, pulled out a chair in front of the desk for her, then he sat in the one next to it. “I’m Stephen McCoy, Mr. Traynor and I believe you know Mrs. McCoy. I understand there is a mortgage due on my wife’s property?”
The man nodded. “Yes. Her father failed to make the last payment and according to the mortgage, if a payment is missed the entire amount becomes due.” His eyes failed to meet Stephen’s and he fiddled with the pen on his desk.
Stephen leaned back and crossed one booted foot over his knee. “Is that right?”
“I explained all of this to Mrs. McCoy two weeks ago. We wanted to speak to you, but you were not at home.”
Stephen cupped his chin with his thumb and index finger as if in deep contemplation. “Yes, I see. She did mention something about that. And why would you need to explain it to m
e? Do you have reason to believe my wife has a problem with the English language?”
Calliope tried to hide her giggle behind a cough.
Traynor grew red in the face. “No. It’s just that a man should be taking care of business, not a woman. That’s probably why the last payment was missed.” He sniffed and raised his chin.
Stephen stared at him until the man began to fidget in his chair.
“Yet, Mrs. McCoy tells me you specifically mentioned the payment that had been missed was before Mr. Bender died.” He paused. “A man.”
The banker waved his hand in dismissal. “No matter. The situation remains the same. Either Mrs. McCoy comes up with one hundred eighty-three dollars and eleven cents in the next few days or the title to the farm will revert to the bank.”
Stephen leaned his forearms on the desk, causing Traynor to back up until he was plastered against his chair. “Then what happens?”
“It becomes the bank’s property.”
“I see. And you, or your staff, will tend to the farm? Milk the cow, feed the chickens, and so forth?”
This time he was sure Calliope snorted.
“No, of course not,” he snapped. “The farm will be sold. We—that is the bank—will keep the money.”
“And if it sells for more than one hundred eighty-three dollars and eleven cents?”
He was apparently flustering Traynor. The man fumbled with his pen, stretched his neck muscles, ran his finger along his collar. “There are fees and such that would eat up whatever is left.”
“Fees. Yes of course.” Stephen paused for a moment. “And I assume you have a buyer?”
The banker apparently had enough. He stood. “Mr. McCoy, there really is no need for this conversation. Unless your wife has the necessary money, I must ask you to leave the bank so I may continue with my work.”
Stephen shrugged, then reached into his back pocket, withdrew his wallet and counted out one hundred eighty-three dollars and eleven cents in a neat pile in the middle of Traynor’s desk.
The McCoy Brothers Boxed Set Page 20
