“No. If he got drunk enough to do something about it, he’d just cut the fence and come after me. He knows where I am.” Sam moved closer to her and helped himself to a slice of warm bread. “I heard his older boy, a horse of a man, got cut up pretty bad in a knife fight a few months back, and the younger one couldn’t be more than sixteen.” Sam thought, then added, “I doubt he’s grown to his full meanness yet. One of my cousins told me the oldest boy is always getting in trouble for beating up the whores.”
“Are you serious? If a man did that, wouldn’t the law arrest him?”
Sam shrugged. “Probably not. I don’t think Sheriff Raines worries about those kind of crimes.”
“You are serious.”
When he didn’t deny it she wished she hadn’t asked.
“Who else might be looking for you?” She didn’t like the idea that there was a list of people coming carrying trouble with them. The man she was staying with didn’t seem to have anyone except her on his friends list.
“The sheriff might be looking for us. He seemed awfully interested in knowing where I lived. He asked me twice the other night.”
Maggie shook her head. “Sheriff Raines is far more interested in retiring than anything else. Unless, of course, you committed a crime? He might hope to catch one more criminal before he hangs up his guns.”
He raised one eyebrow. “I stole a kiss not too long ago. Does that count?”
Maggie fought down a giggle. She hadn’t decided what to do about the last kiss, and the fire was back in his eyes. “It counts.”
He smiled and leaned down beside Web as if letting her off the hook. “Your mama makes good bread, doesn’t she?”
Web reached for his father’s bread with sticky fingers and Sam laughed. “He’s rarely had real bread. Corn bread now and then and sourdough biscuits sometimes, but never this. This,” he lifted the piece he’d managed to hang on to, “is heaven and far beyond my skill.”
“Didn’t Danni make you bread?” Maggie wished she hadn’t asked the minute the words were out of her mouth. She’d already asked enough questions about a woman two years dead.
“No,” he said simply. “Her mother died when she was six. Her knowledge was limited in both cooking and sewing.” As if he felt like he had to pay his wife a compliment, he added, “She could clean, though. For the time she lived here the place was always spotless.”
“Maybe she was proud to be here,” Maggie said.
“I never thought of it like that, but maybe.”
As the light faded outside, Sam carefully drew the shutters before he lit the lamps. They ate an early supper talking of their lives, then played with Web on the blanket near the fire for a while before Sam reached for a book. “I usually read to Web before bedtime. I know he’s too young to understand, but I’m hoping he hears the rhythm of the words. As soon as he’s ready I’ll teach him to read.”
Maggie stretched her hand out. “I’ll read tonight if you like.”
Sam lifted Webster in his lap and began to rock as Maggie read. An hour later she looked up and found them both asleep. Smiling, she touched Sam’s shoulder, loving that she felt so comfortable around him to do so.
He opened his eyes and looked at her as if he was trying to decide if she were real or only part of his dream.
“We should put him to bed,” she whispered.
Sam lifted the boy to his shoulder and stood. Without a word, he carried his son to bed.
Maggie followed and watched for a moment in the doorway of the small second room before turning and moving down the hallway to what was now her room.
The moon was up and snow had stopped falling. The view from her window had changed completely since dawn. Yet another masterpiece spread out before her like a grand painting that covered the entire wall of a museum. This morning had been all fire and color. Tonight’s world lay silent in blues and grays.
“I never light a lamp or candle in here. It would only take away from the beauty outside.”
She smiled without turning around. She’d known he’d find her to say good night. What had started between them wasn’t over, could never be over with one kiss.
But he didn’t reach to touch her. He only walked past her to the window. She knew the memory of his tall dark outline against the moon’s glow would hold to the corners of her mind until her last breath. He was a good man, she thought, more strong in mind and body than handsome. No matter how he dressed, no one would ever mistake him for a gentleman from the city, though, in his way, his ranch was very much a business and to her he seemed a very gentle man.
She liked the way he moved, always with purpose, never wasted energy, but best of all, she liked the way he was still, as if the world could circle around him.
Finally, he turned. “I need to tell you something, Maggie, I’ve never told anyone.”
“All right.” She hoped it wasn’t some deep dark thing he’d done in the past that would stop her from liking him.
“There’s a passage in the back of Webster’s room behind one of the bookcases.”
She breathed. Not much of a secret. She probably would have noticed it if she’d looked harder that morning when she’d walked through the baby’s room.
“One of the reasons I built this house in this exact location was because there is a small entrance to a cave there. My grandfather hated two-story houses because he feared he’d be trapped by fire on the second floor. Like Nina, he lived through a terrible fire the year I was living in Fort Worth. That was one of the reasons it took him so long to come after me. He barely had enough supplies left to eat, much less feed me.”
She smiled. “You found the way Old Nina saved her sheep and her life.”
“I did, the summer I came back from working in Fort Worth. It became my quest for months.”
She could almost see him as a boy climbing the cliffs and trails until he figured out the mystery, and then he hadn’t told anyone, but used it to his advantage.
“I just wanted you to know about the passage, though it’s probably filled with spiderwebs. If something happens and you’re trapped upstairs, grab Web and go into the cave. Just feel your way along the narrow passage. You’ll come out within sight of the old woman’s house.”
“I’m sure we won’t have a fire the few days I’m here.” Maggie understood why so many people feared fire. Even her parents checked and double-checked that all the lamps in the store were out before they climbed the stairs at night.
He grinned. “I don’t know. I get warm just thinking about you.”
She looked away, embarrassed by his directness and loving it at the same time. There was no need for them to follow proper rules. They were friends. They could be honest with one another, and she loved it.
“I don’t want to startle you again, but I would like to say good night with a kiss. How about you come to me, Maggie?”
She took one step.
“Closer,” he whispered.
She took one more step, feeling her own heart pound.
“Closer,” he said again and raised his hand to take hers.
One step and she was so close she could feel the warmth of him.
Without holding anything but her hand, he leaned down and kissed her. A gentle kiss of promise. “Closer,” he whispered against her ear as he tugged gently on her hand.
She leaned until her body touched his and she heard a low sigh of satisfaction against her ear.
“That’s just about right.” He moved his chin against her hair and lifted her hand to his shoulder. His fingers drifted along her arm and down the side of her body.
“I . . . I . . .” She tried to think of something to say.
“Don’t talk. I just want to feel you near so I’ll always remember what it was like.” His hand moved to the small of her back and he tugged her until her body molded against his. “Relax. All I’m going to do is hold you for a while.”
She put her arms around his neck and held tight to keep from falling as his hands mov
ed up and down her body with a light touch. He kissed her ear and then her cheek as she shook against him. “It’s all right. Breathe, Maggie. This isn’t going to hurt.”
“I know. I’m just nervous. I’ve never . . .” she managed to say.
“I know, me either. I wish I knew more about how a woman likes to be touched, but somehow I think we’ll find our way.”
He wasn’t holding onto her; she could have stepped away. She’d spent her life stepping away from everyone. Her parents had started the pattern she’d followed all her life. Never get too close to anyone. Never care too much. Never feel too deeply. Her parents, even her teachers, must have thought they were saving her the pain of separating by never allowing her too close.
Sam’s strong hands moved down past her waist and fanned out over her hips as his mouth opened against her throat. The warmth of his tongue circled her skin as his hands began to move up over her back, pressing her closer against him. He wasn’t holding his feelings back and letting her remain safe from being involved. Tears trickled down her cheeks as she let herself drift with the moment and not worry about the pain that would surely come when she was alone again.
Melting against him, she breathed deep as he retraced his journey from her hip to the back of her hair. This time he pulled the tie holding her hair and dug his hands into her wavy curls. “God, I love the feel of you,” he whispered as if to himself and not her. Gently he tugged a handful of her hair, pulling her head up. His warm breath brushed over her cheek a moment before his lips moved over hers. This time the kiss was light, teasing.
She cried out at the pure pleasure of it and heard him laugh softly against her cheek. Then he kissed her again and again, playing with her mouth but never kissing her deeply as he had before.
“I can’t get enough of you,” he whispered against her throat as he tugged a few buttons of her blouse free so he could taste a spot lower on her neck.
When he bit her lightly, she jerked away.
“Did I hurt you?”
“No,” she managed to answer. “Do it again, please.”
He laughed as he kissed her throat. “You’ll never have to beg. I’m happy to do whatever pleases you.”
Then he was kissing her again, and when his mouth journeyed down her throat she felt him loosen another button, pull the material back almost to her shoulder, and taste her once more. This time she made a little sound of pleasure and would have melted to the floor if he hadn’t been holding her.
Finally, he raised his head and held her tightly against his chest. Both their breathing slowly returned to normal. His grip around her relaxed, but his hand still stroked her back. “You all right with this?” he whispered against her hair.
She wasn’t sure what he meant. The kissing, the touching, the feel of his body pressed against hers. “No,” she finally answered and felt him go very still. “I’d like to be kissed the way you kissed me in the kitchen at least once more.”
She felt more than heard his laughter.
“You’re a wonder, my Maggie.” He moved to her mouth and granted her request.
“More,” she whispered when he broke the kiss.
“You’re a pretty demanding wife.” His hand slid past her waist once more to rest on her hip. “I like the feel of you as well as the way you kiss me. I like the softness of your bottom beneath my hand. I like all of you.”
She raised her head and waited to see what would happen next. His features were in the shadows, but she could feel the moonlight on her face, or maybe it was just the warmth of feeling desired for the first time in her life.
“Maggie,” he said as he rubbed his cheek against hers. “I don’t think I’ll ever deny you anything in my power to give. If you want to be kissed all night long, I’ll do my best.”
With that, the conversation was over. He took her mouth with a hunger that surprised her. When she met his passion with her own, she felt him shake as if taken off balance for a moment.
For a while they kissed, sometimes deep, breathless kisses and sometimes light and playful. He couldn’t seem to get enough of the feel of her hair in his hands, and she’d grown used to the rise and fall of his hard chest against her breasts.
She nestled beneath his arms. “Is this how it is between married couples?” she asked.
“Between some,” he answered. “Very few, I think. Maggie, I kissed a few girls when I was more kid than man, but I’ve never touched or kissed anyone like I did you right now.” He laughed against her hair. “If you had any sense, you’d slap me or have the sheriff toss me in jail.”
“I wanted this. I wanted to feel.” She drew in air and added, “I want more.”
He was still for a while. “How much more?”
“Just a little more.”
He lowered his mouth and she welcomed his gentle kiss as she raised her arms and moved her fingers into his midnight hair. One arm held her gently as she relaxed into the warmth spreading through her.
She was lost in the flood of feelings washing over her when he lifted her in his arms and carried her to the bed. Without breaking the kiss, he lowered her on her back and rested his weight beside her.
“How about I just hold you all night?”
She made a sound but wasn’t sure it made any sense. The feel of his long body running along her side warmed her completely.
“Go to sleep, Maggie,” he whispered as he kissed her on the cheek.
She lay awake for a long while knowing he was doing the same. Finally, his breathing grew regular and slow. Rising, she spread a blanket over them both. When she lay back down beside him, he pulled her to him.
Late in the night, when she’d been half sleeping as she drifted between dreams and reality, she felt him move his hand over her body as if even in sleep, he needed to know she was there.
His hand stopped over her breast, cupping it.
She didn’t move.
His fingers tightened slightly, then released her. In a sleepy voice he whispered against her hair. “I wish you were mine. All mine.”
She tried to keep her breathing normal. She fell back asleep wondering if she’d really heard him say the words or if she’d simply dreamed it.
Chapter 10
Sam woke just before dawn. Maggie was curled beside him sound asleep. He smiled as he lifted her off his arm and tucked the blanket around her.
The air seemed bone cold, but any heat from the fire below had traveled up to keep the sleeping quarters above freezing. He checked on Webster curled in one corner of his crib. Sam knew if he was lucky, the boy might sleep another hour. By then he’d have the fires going and the first floor would be comfortable.
He’d just finished washing in the sink when he saw Maggie standing at the archway. Her hair was a mess and her clothes looked like she’d slept in them, which she had. She looked adorable. A few years ago he’d stopped dreaming, but if he still did, Maggie standing in his kitchen just as she was now would be his favorite dream.
“Morning,” he said, watching her rub her eyes.
“Morning,” she answered. “If you can wait a few minutes for breakfast, I’d like to clean up first.”
“All right.” He leaned against the counter and waited.
“Without you watching, if you don’t mind.”
“Oh, of course.” He had no idea where he would go. Three feet of snow blocked both doors and if he went upstairs he’d wake Web.
Finally, Sam decided to turn his rocking chair to the fire and pretend to be reading while she padded around.
First she tiptoed upstairs and brought down a load of her things, then he heard her pouring water in the tub.
Sam closed his eyes and swore. She was taking a bath in his kitchen only a few feet away and there wasn’t even a door between them. Not that he really needed to look, he told himself. He’d imagine how she looked without clothes every time his hands had moved over her body last night. That might not be the same thing as looking, but it was probably as close as he would ever get.
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He heard her splashing and decided she was torturing him. If she stayed the whole week he’d be building a door, not to offer her privacy, but to bolt him out.
She must have put on coffee because he could smell it. Maybe she wouldn’t notice if he walked through the kitchen, got a cup, and poured himself coffee. He could even glance at her and apologize saying he’d forgotten she was bathing. That sounded like what married people might do.
Hell, he almost said aloud. She’d never believe him. Knowing Maggie, the coffeepot would probably dent his skull on his way out. She wanted his kisses, she’d made that plain, but when he’d asked her if she wanted more she’d said only a little, as if she always rationed out pleasure. He could almost see her sitting in her tiny apartment above her store eating one biscuit from a decorative tin each night. Two or three would be too many. She could only have a little.
He leaned back in his chair and tried to think of anything else except Maggie nude in his kitchen.
“I’m finished.” She startled him a few minutes later.
Sam opened his eyes. She was wearing some kind of fancy robe the color of a summer blue sky. It had tiny white pearl buttons running all the way down the front. He’d seen them in stores and guessed they cost more than a saddle. Her hair was tied up in a funny knot on top of her head.
“If you don’t mind, I thought I’d dry my hair here by the fire.”
“I don’t mind.”
She handed him a cup of coffee, then pulled a comb from her pocket and set to work on her hair.
“Mind if I watch?” he asked, knowing he’d fail miserably at pretending to read with her right in front of him.
He thought he saw her cheeks blush, but she shook her head slightly.
The house was silent except for the crackling of the fire. All the world outside his home could have vanished and Sam wouldn’t have cared. He’d never thought watching a woman comb her hair would bring him such pleasure. The tangled mess slowly became silk.
“You look content,” he said.
She smiled. “I am, but there is something I’d like to do.”
“Me too,” he answered, thinking his idea probably wasn’t anywhere close to hers.
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