Inheriting a Bride

by Lauri Robinson

  He blew the air out of his lungs and set his gaze on the stars out the window. Kit just wanted a family. He understood that. Though he had Clarice, and for the past few years had told himself differently, he wanted a family, too. Heirs. Someone to whom he could pass down all he’d worked so hard to acquire.

  Fully frustrated, Clay shot off the cot, grabbed clean clothes and made his way down the stairs. He had a house, complete with a bathing room and soft feather mattresses, and it was time he started using it.

  An hour later, clean and lying in a bed as soft as a cloud, he found his mind was still on Kit. Trouble was, now he was wishing she was in the bed beside him. Not only that, he actually missed her, which was ridiculous, considering he’d seen her just a few hours ago.

  The hairs on his arms rose, tingling as if issuing a warning, just as a faint knock sounded on his front door.

  Kit squeezed her hand tighter and pulled it back. Glancing down the hill to the quiet, dark town below, she once again questioned her sanity. It was the middle of the night. What would people think? It was doubtful, but someone could have seen her sneak up the hill. Would they think she was trying to rob Clay’s house?

  Maybe he wasn’t home. He might have stayed out at Sam’s. There were no lights in the windows, but with the heavy draperies, she wouldn’t be able to see any even if they were lit.

  Would she ever learn? Hadn’t her impulses caused her enough problems already? The trip to Colorado. Chasing after Sam. Being tossed in a pond. Stowing away on a train. Climbing a tree to rescue birds that weren’t even there. Kissing Clay.

  She spun around and laid a hand on the rail to guide her way back down the porch stairway. The sound of the door opening froze her steps, had her fingers gripping the rail tighter.

  “Kit?”

  Blood pounded so hard in her veins she could hardly hear around the echoing in her ears. He was home. She should never have come here. Back at the hotel it had seemed like a good idea, but now it most certainly didn’t.

  A gentle but firm hand wrapped around her elbow.

  “Kit,” he repeated, while turning her about.

  Seeing him had her heart missing so many beats she was growing light-headed.

  Oh, good heavens, was this what it felt like to faint? Light-headed, dizzy, heart racing, knees weak. She gulped for air, not wanting to land on his porch in a haphazard pile.

  He pulled her forward. “Come inside before someone sees you.” Once over the threshold, he let go of her elbows to push a lit lamp into the center of the table near the door. It had been sitting on the edge, as if someone had hastily set it aside.

  The flickering light bounced off his arm and chest, which was where her eyes stalled. He didn’t have on a shirt. She’d never have imagined a man’s chest could be so sculpted. Full of refined curves and notable bulges of muscle that made her think of the drawings of historic Greek gods she’d seen long ago in a book.

  “Kit.”

  Her gaze wandered upward, caught the confusion in his face. “I couldn’t sleep,” she blurted, trying to explain her reason for being there, while doing her best to keep her eyes from moving back down to his bare chest.

  “You couldn’t sleep?” he repeated skeptically.

  A flood happened inside her head, as all the thoughts and fears she’d been battling and scrutinizing back at the hotel hit her in one solid blast. “I don’t need a guardian.”

  “You don’t need a guardian?” he repeated, before saying, “You don’t have a choice in the matter, Kit.”

  Anxiety burst in her stomach, and she quickly started to explain. “I know the will says you are, but I don’t want you to be my guardian. I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself. Plenty of women my age are married or running businesses. Clarice, for instance. Even my mother, by the time she was my age—” Kit let out a huff of frustration. “I don’t understand why Gramps made this all so complicated.”

  Feeling cramped and needing space, she spun around, took a few steps along the foyer wall. “I can understand why he didn’t want Grandma and me to come to Colorado with him, but I can’t …” She stopped pacing. “Have you ever been lonely, Clay? Really, really lonely?” she asked. “To the point where you don’t even want to get out of bed in the morning because there was no one to talk to, no one to see?” She shrugged. “No one would have even known if I hadn’t gotten out of bed, other than Mr. Watson, who stopped by every Wednesday morning to see if I needed anything.”

  “You didn’t have any friends or …” His voice trailed off as she shook her head.

  “I have acquaintances, people from the stores I frequent, or church.” The hollow, empty feeling of the past year was growing inside her again. “I was never allowed to socialize, and about the time I was grown up enough to ask, well, that’s when Grandpa and Grandma had their carriage accident. They were on their way for another engagement, to pick me up.”

  “You can’t blame yourself for that,” he said.

  “I did for a long time,” she admitted. “Maybe I still do, but I figured out it wouldn’t change anything. Then, while I was cataloging the books in Grandpa’s office, I found a letter he’d been writing to Sam, and the ticket stub. Mr. Watson wouldn’t tell me anything, and I was so tired of being alone. I thought if Sam was my uncle, I’d have a family again. That’s when I imagined being Katherine Ackerman. I didn’t add the accent and being from Boston until I met a lady on the train.” The words were gushing out of her mouth, and she couldn’t stop them. “Gramps talked about you all the time, but I was afraid you’d send me home. You’re a good person. You care about others and children. Like Sam, and Liza Rose with Mrs. Smith’s glasses. And Henry. You even took care of Henry. But I’m not a child and I don’t need a guardian. I’m—”

  The tips of Clay’s fingers landed on her lips. “Stop,” he whispered.

  It was kind of a relief. She was winded, and barely recalled what she’d said.

  His gaze grew intense and a somewhat cynical glimmer appeared before he asked, “Did Mimmie Mae give you some medicine? A little brown bottle that—”

  “No,” she said. “I didn’t take any medicine.”

  “Some wine, perhaps?”

  “No.” Flustered, she spun about and walked as far as the lamp cast light before stopping to stare at the dark wall. There were just so many confusing things inside her. She’d somehow thought seeing him would solve them all. “I shouldn’t have come here tonight. I just wanted you to know I told everyone it wasn’t your fault. That I asked you to take me to Sam’s. No one except Grandma and Grandpa has ever cared what happened to me before, and I don’t want everyone mad at you. I like you too much for that. You make me not feel lonely anymore.” The air in her lungs grew thick. She let it go by sighing heavily as hopelessness filled her. “I should have just stayed at the hotel. Sitting there feeling lonely all over again, and wishing you were there kissing me.”

  “Kissing you?”

  The whisper was so close the hairs on her neck tingled.

  A sickening realization sent a groan rumbling from her lips while she buried her face in her hands. Humiliation burned her cheeks and she mentally saw herself running for the door.

  His hands clasped her upper arms, forced her to turn around. “Kit.”

  Half groaning, half sighing, and swallowing the last bits of pride she had left, she faced him, knowing there was no way to put that cat back in the bag.

  The tender smile on his lips and the compassionate shimmer in his eyes were almost more than she could take. But it was the way his hand cupped her cheek that had her insides sparking like the fuse on a Chinese lantern—though she was still mortified by the outbreak of thoughts that should have remained private. This was all new to her, and so confusing. She’d never had feelings for someone like this before.

  His free hand grasped her other cheek and he lifted her face, held it directly in front of his. “I don’t feel lonely when I’m with you, either. And I was sitting here thinking ab
out kissing you, too,” he said.

  Her heart might have quit working. Leastwise it would never, ever be the same. “You were?”

  “Yes.” His eyes were still locked on hers as his face came closer. “I was.”

  Soft and warm, his lips touched hers, so perfectly the connection went all the way to her toes. Then, like a rubber ball, the feeling rebounded, racing back up her body, igniting little sparks along the way.

  Her breath caught and then his lips moved, playfully coaxing hers to join the fun. She did, and it was magical. Like a great wonder that was more spectacular than anything she’d ever imagined, and teased every sense she had.

  An alluring temptation erupted inside her and an overpowering instinct told her lips to part. Clay’s tongue ran along her bottom lip, igniting sweet sensations, before it slid into her mouth. Her tongue twisted and twirled with his in a mystifying dance that had her spellbound.

  Her hands found the bare skin of his chest, and her fingertips skimmed over the hot, smooth expanse, pausing to inspect the contours she’d admired earlier. Good gracious heavens above, kissing him had her entire body singing, and it wasn’t a sweet poetic song. No, siree, this was a fast, jaunty tune like the ones that filtered out of saloon doors back in Black Hawk, and would have had Grandma Katie slapping her hands over her ears.

  Kit wrapped her arms around his bare torso, amazed at how wonderful it was to touch him, feel his body against hers. It was just the two of them in the world again. A wonderful, lovely place.

  He moaned as his mouth slid off hers. She let out a lighter version of the sound—several times—as his lips kissed a line down one side of her neck and back up the other, before settling on hers again, at which point she eagerly met him kiss for kiss, swirl for swirl.

  “Kit, Kit,” Clay mumbled, unable to express all he was feeling as he broke the kiss long enough to catch a breath of air. Pulling her body, every delectable inch of it, to lightly glide against his, he took her mouth again, fully, completely, and exactly how he’d imagined doing while lying in his lonely bed upstairs.

  Someone could have knocked him over with a feather when he’d opened the door and seen her standing there. Matter of fact, it wasn’t until he’d touched her that he’d known for certain she was real and not a figment of his imagination.

  Her lips were so perfect. Met and curled around his as if they were specifically made for him to taste. And taste them he did. Over and over.

  Her fingers played havoc on his skin as they caressed and kneaded his back, generating enough chaos inside him to make him as unstable as a bottle of old nitroglycerin. He grabbed her shoulders—as if that could stop her hands. It didn’t, of course, but as he tugged her forward her breasts pressed harder against his bare chest, creating a torment so excruciating he wondered if the material separating her skin from his had scorched his flesh.

  He’d never imagined desire could be this strong, this consuming, but he did know himself well enough to recognize that soon, kissing wouldn’t be enough. It wouldn’t be long and he’d snap—carry her up the stairs and show her exactly how much he loved her.

  The silent admission shocked him, and he pulled out of the kiss.

  Kit, gasping for air, collapsed against him. As she clung to him, he folded his arms around her and tucked her head beneath his chin, wondering what he was going to do now.

  It could have been minutes or hours they stood like that, cradled in each other’s arms. It felt so right. So perfect and authentic.

  Her breathing had returned to normal, but though he was more composed than he’d been before breaking the kiss, his desire for her was as strong as ever. He stepped back, waited for her to lift her head. The serene smile on her face and the passion still glimmering in her eyes almost made him rethink what he was about to do.

  Almost.

  He leaned down and kissed the tip of her nose while grasping one of her hands. “Come on.”

  Her fingers folded around his easily and she fell in step beside him. “Where are we going?”

  He paused long enough to pick up the shirt that had fallen from his hand when he’d opened the door. “I’m taking you back to the hotel.”

  She planted her free hand on the doorframe. “I don’t want to go back to the hotel.”

  This was going to be a test of his willpower. “It’s late, and you shouldn’t be here.”

  “But I want to be here.”

  He reached out and pried her fingers off the wood. “You,” he said, kissing the tip of her index finger, “could tempt the devil out of hell.”

  She bowed her head bashfully, but then snapped it up, gazing at him with a touch of bewilderment. “Is that a compliment or an insult?”

  Clay took a moment to shrug into the shirt before he took her hand again and pulled her over the threshold. “A compliment.” Reaching back, he closed the door behind them. “Definitely a compliment.”

  She walked down the steps beside him, but paused once they’d stepped onto the trail.

  “You don’t have to walk me back. I know the way,” she said, as her hold on his hand tightened.

  The gesture wasn’t lost on him—neither his heart nor his mind. He stepped closer, so her shoulder rubbed against his arm as they walked. “I know you know the way. But it’s dark, and it’s late, and I want to walk you back.”

  “Because you’re my guardian,” she said quietly.

  He had to bide his time, give her the opportunity to get to know him, decide if Colorado was a place she could live. If it was, he’d have a serious decision to make. A life-changing one. “No,” he said, “because I like you.”

  “You do?”

  “Yes, I do.”

  Her hair brushed his shoulder as she tilted her head up and smiled at him. “I like you, too.”

  Maybe it was the little man in the bright full moon overhead serenading them, or simply the night noises of crickets and a gentle breeze fluttering the spring leaves, but Clay swore he heard music. A sweet romantic tune that lulled his heart into perfect rhythm. “Good,” he whispered, planting a little kiss on the top of her head.

  They walked in silence until the hill leveled out on the upper layer of town. The path wasn’t too steep, but now, walking beside her, he wondered if he should have steps carved in the rock. The trail could be hazardous come winter.

  “Clay,” Kit said, sounding a bit hesitant.

  He squeezed her hand. “Yeah?”

  “I don’t think I want to go back to Chicago, ever.”

  The jolting of his heart stole Clay’s ability to move, right there at the top of the stairs that would take them down to the next level, where the hotel stood. Light from the million stars overhead reflected in her eyes, making them sparkle despite the uncertainty he saw in them. The fact that anyone who might be awake and looking out a window would be able to see them didn’t stop him. He took her face in both hands and held it as he brought his lips down upon hers.

  The kiss remained chaste, just the mingling of lips, and he took his time. Kissing her until he hoped the last ounce of trepidation had disappeared from her unforgettable eyes and precious mind.

  When their lips parted and she opened her eyes, they shone as brightly as the stars overhead. Satisfied in more ways than one, he looped his arm around her shoulders and guided her down the steps.

  At the front of the hotel, he asked, “Which room is yours?”

  “That one,” she said, pointing to the window at the corner of the building.

  “Then go on,” he said, easing his arm off her shoulders. “And light your lamp so I know you’re in there.”

  She looked at him, clearly full of questions, as was he. But now wasn’t the time.

  He lifted a clump of hair off her shoulder and let the silky strands glide through his fingers as it fell back in place. “Come to my office tomorrow. We’ll talk there.” It was the safest place, once he hauled away the cot from the back room. He’d see to that first thing.

  “What time?” she ask
ed.

  “Whenever you want.”

  She nodded, but didn’t make any attempt to move toward the door. He bit back a smile. She wanted another kiss. The knowledge was stirring, exciting, and he wanted the same thing. But the fact that anyone could be watching from a window held him back. He’d already given in to temptation once—on top of the stairs—and wouldn’t do it again. Nevadaville was a good town, his town, full of kindhearted people, but that didn’t mean he could behave scandalously. Besides that, he protected what was his. Kit and her reputation were worth all the protection he could supply.

  “Go on, now.” He gestured toward the building. “And light your lamp.”

  She went, glancing back as she opened the front door slowly, so the bell wouldn’t ring, and then again as she waved before pulling the door closed just as gently.

  He stood on the street, right below the window she’d indicated, waiting and watching, even after a glow filled the room. His heart rumbled as the sash lifted and Kit stuck her head out the window.

  “Good night,” she whispered.

  “Good night,” he answered, and then, not really wanting to, but knowing she wouldn’t pull her head back in until he did, he left. The distance to his house seemed shorter, merely a few feet. Maybe it was because his steps were lighter than they’d ever been in his life, allowing him to practically float all the way home. Until he heard a snap, like someone stepping on a branch.

  The sensation of being watched had the hairs on his neck standing up, and his stomach sank. He’d been so engrossed with Kit, and all the once-dead feelings she’d revived inside him, that he’d forgotten about the trapper. Sam had said he hadn’t seen the man since Black Hawk, and Clay had dropped the conversation, although he had told the boy to be on alert. One Ear Bob wouldn’t injure Sam, but who knew what the man might attempt, believing he could somehow gain access to the boy’s inheritance?

  Clay made his way onto the porch of his house, opened the door and shut it again without entering, staying hidden in the porch shadows. Eventually, when no other sounds occurred and his inner vibrations had returned to normal, making it clear that whoever had been there was gone, he entered the house.