by London, Cait
“It can wait. You’re upset and have that closed-in look.”
“I’m going to the barn,” he said, and realized that he was being unfair. Miranda was only following the customs of Freedom Valley.
Moments later, Miranda stepped into the barn, finding him immediately. “Let’s have this out. You’re a beautiful, caring man, but you’re growling about the Rules of Bride Courting.”
“I have the book Fidelity demanded I read.” This discussion was unpleasant, and Gabriel did not like thinking about how many men had chafed under the town’s unique custom, which had protected pioneer women.
“I haven’t asked you to marry me yet, Gabriel Deerhorn. You have asked me, but I have not asked you,” she underlined.
That ungentle reminder that in Freedom Valley, women had always determined their fate and protected other women, caused Gabriel to frown. He walked slowly to her and Miranda’s green eyes widened as he leaned down to whisper. “Ask me.”
“Not under these circumstances. I have a candlelight dinner planned.”
Gabriel tugged on a strand of her hair and placed his lips near hers, whispering, “Ask me.”
She shivered and flattened against the wall and he placed both hands beside her head, corralling her. “Ask me.”
He nudged his knee between her jeaned legs, and whispered against her throat, “Ask me.”
He kissed her slowly, thoroughly, his hand unbuttoning her blouse. Her bra tore easily, freeing her breasts to his roaming touch. She shivered as his thumbs cruised over her hardened nipples, his kiss deepening, his knee lifted to nudge her intimate warmth. It was a new game he had grown to love, seducing her, testing her, waiting for her to ignite.
Miranda’s fingers locked onto his shirt, her color rising, those dark green eyes sultry upon him. “You love doing this to me, don’t you?”
“And you love doing it to me?”
“Maybe,” she whispered lightly.
Still she resisted, driving him on, passion dancing between them. Gabriel bent to take her breast, suckling as his other hand unsnapped her jeans and slid into her briefs.
She came quickly into his passion, warm and throbbing and arching against him, her mouth hot with the fever driving them both. In his plan to seduce her, Gabriel had not planned to be taken so quickly, the fire igniting as he filled his hands with her bare hips. Her hands fumbled with his clothing and then released, he filled her slowly, fully.
She held him tightly, answering his primitive call, matching him for strength, taking his mouth, feeding upon him as he tasted her. He was flying now, Miranda breathing unevenly, her heart pounding him, her body greedy for his. He filled his fist with her hair, tugging her head back gently, watching her passion flow through her, and she took it inside, nourishing his own with that fierce, wild desperation.
She fought to contain her release, and he could not have that, pushing her, holding his own pounding passion.
Later, he would hold her still, uncertain of what she would do. He had taken her primitively, fed by his own hunger. Miranda’s heart still raced against his own, her body limp and soft, draped around him. Humor filled her tone as she said, “Okay. If that’s how you really feel about it, I’ll ask you. In your way, you can be a real rat, but I love you anyway. You’re getting very good at seduction, slow or fast.”
He smiled at that, loving the exciting game that would continue all their lives. “What’s that? I can’t hear you,” he teased.
He looked down at their bodies, hers pale and soft against his, a beautiful, wonderful sight. His body was already hardening, filling her again. “It seems I need to make up for lost time,” he whispered in an apology.
She watched him carefully, a tender smile curving her kiss-swollen lips. “Will you marry me, Gabriel?”
Gabriel waited for his wife to come to him as the mid-May night sounds cruised their mountain campsite. At their wedding, Fidelity Moore had kissed him soundly, shocking him. “This is a fine example of a husband. You unmarried boys take note of how he accepted his love’s courtship.”
Miranda, dressed in the doeskin beaded shift that his grandmother had made for her long ago, had shot him a disbelieving look. For Gabriel had loved every moment, playing the game of seduction with his love, watching her blush and run and tease and love him wildly.
He sighed, taking his happiness into him to cherish. Soon his wife’s body would change, her breasts becoming fuller, her body softening and rounding with their child. He would treasure each moment, each change, for White Fawn had said that their first baby would be created on their wedding night. He rubbed the fullness in his heart, and wondered how such joy could come to him, how Miranda could love so freely and openly, sometimes shocking him.
His smile grew as he studied the starlit Montana night. Some things were better not shared, he decided. Miranda would want to tell him in her own way of their child. White Fawn had held up four fingers, indicating the children that would carry on his blood and his father’s father’s long after he was gone. But each time, he would wait for Miranda to tell him, to bring him her excitement and joy.
Well, then, he thought, turning toward their campfire, studying their future in it, he would build a home office for her, enlarging their home once more. If her numbers called to her, she would have what she needed. If she needed to work away from their home, he would tend their brood. For he had waited for so long….
Then standing beyond the fire and the smoke, Miranda appeared. She found him in the night, and slowly removed the doeskin wedding shift. It pooled at her feet, leaving the firelight and the moonbeams flowing upon her face, her shoulders, her breasts. Shadows dancing within the firelight traced her hips and long legs, but he knew the strength of them, the beauty of those curves. He’d seen her without clothing, but his body stirred quickly, waiting to take her as his wife.
The smoke curled between them, drifting high into the night sky as Gabriel watched the Miranda of his visions, his wife, come to him.
He had waited so long….
ISBN: 978-1-4268-5734-8
GABRIEL’S GIFT
Copyright © 2001 by Lois Kleinsasser
All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the written permission of the editorial office, Silhouette Books, 300 East 42nd Street, New York, NY 10017 U.S.A.
All characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all incidents are pure invention.
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*The MacLeans
*The MacLeans
*The MacLeans
†The Blaylocks
†The Blaylocks
‡The Tallchiefs
‡The Tallchiefs
‡The Tallchiefs
‡The Tallchiefs
‡The Tallchiefs
‡The Tallchiefs
†The Blaylocks
†The Blaylocks
†The Blaylocks
§Freedom Valley
‡The Tallchiefs
§Freedom Valley
§Freedom Valley
‡The Tallchiefs
