by Stacey Kayne
“If I’ve learned anything about Chance in the last few years, it’s to take him literally about everything. Once he sets his mind to something…well, that seems to be a Morgan trait,” she said, her warm gaze looking out of the window.
Cora spotted their husbands standing in the yard.
“They do have their similarities,” said Skylar.
“Bullheadedness being one of them,” Cora agreed.
“I’ve seen a change in Chance, lately,” Skylar said, walking back to the table. “A good change.”
“Do you really think so?”
“I’m certain everyone on the meadow could see it while he was looking at you. He’ll be a good husband.” Skylar picked up a parcel that had been sitting on the table and held it out to her.
“For you. Sorry it’s not wrapped. I wanted to at least get a ribbon around it, but…”
Cora stared at the white box.
“A wedding gift,” Skylar clarified.
Shocked, she accepted the present. “Skylar, you didn’t have to give me anything.”
“It’s not much.”
Lifting the lid, Cora found that wasn’t true. Something made of a fine, exquisite lace lay inside. “Oh, my goodness.” Cora touched what appeared to be a gown. “Skylar…” Realizing the bodice consisted of nothing but sheer lace and a satin ribbon threaded up the center, her voice dried up.
“I’ve never worn it,” Skylar said. “I was swollen with child when Tucker brought it home from a trip to a rail town.”
“I couldn’t,” she said.
“We want you to have it.”
Cora swallowed hard as she stared at the expensive and frightfully revealing gown. “I’m not sure it will fit me.” Realizing she sounded rude, she quickly added, “But it’s lovely.”
“I’m sure it will fit. And it has the wrapper, if you’re worried about catching a draft.”
Cora lifted the delicate lace to see the white cotton wrapper beneath. “Skylar, this is much too nice. I just can’t.”
“Of course you can. A bride deserves a little luxury on her wedding night. Besides, I’ve already hemmed the bottom of the gown and the wrapper.”
Oh, goodness. She must have had to cut off more than a foot of fabric.
“There’s no need to be nervous,” said Skylar.
“You would wear it?” she asked.
“Absolutely.” Skylar leaned close, her voice barely a whisper. “With Tucker, I’d wear far less.”
Cora had noticed that Skylar was highly affectionate with Tucker. He also seemed to be rather tender with her. But that didn’t mean things stayed all rosy behind closed doors. She trusted Skylar to tell her the truth.
“He doesn’t…hurt you?”
Skylar’s startled expression sent a flush to Cora’s cheeks. She was about to retract the rude question when Sky said, “Not at all. Quite the opposite. I know you’ve had a bad experience, but it’s not the same. Not when you’re with someone you love, a man who cares for you.”
“He’s agreed to not…t-to wait.”
“That’s nice. But I wouldn’t wait too long.”
“Really?”
“Truly.”
“And you think I should wear the gown?”
“Most definitely.”
Cora drew in a deep breath and replaced the lid, thankful Chance had agreed to wait and she didn’t have to decide on the gown for tonight.
Chapter Eighteen
C hance stopped in the hallway, surprised to find Cora Mae in her room wearing one of her black dresses. Though she was digging through her trunk, her bed was turned down as though she intended to sleep apart from him.
“Cora, what are you doing?”
She closed her trunk as she stood. “Going to bed. I’m quite exhausted.”
“You’re in the wrong room, honey.”
Her eyes flared wide. “But you said—”
“I said we didn’t have to consummate our vows. I didn’t say you wouldn’t be sleeping in my bed.”
“Is that necessary?”
“Necessary? You’re my wife. You’ll sleep in my bed. Our bed,” he amended.
“Oh. I hadn’t thought about it like that.”
“I intend to keep my word. Would you like me to help you collect your things?” he asked, wanting to ease the anxiety clear in every line of her face.
“My things?”
“Or don’t you intend to wear nightclothes to bed?”
He smiled as red splotches rose in her cheeks. He’d take the blush over her stricken pallor. “If you don’t have a nightdress,” he said recalling their conversation on the subject a few weeks back, “I—”
“I do. I can collect my own things,” she said, her hands clasped so tightly he was sure she’d lose circulation.
“All right. I’ll leave you to it.” He went to his room, wondering if she planned to pull on ten pairs of bloomers. He didn’t care what she wore, as long as she was next to him.
He lit the lamps beside his bed, then decided it wouldn’t hurt to turn the covers down. As he tugged the blankets back from the pillows, he realized his own palms were sweating.
Holy hell.
He was really going to sleep in this bed with Cora Mae. He glanced around at what was essentially a big empty room. Aside from the bed, a couple of pieces of bare furniture and the stove in the corner that he’d never bothered to light, the room was rather lifeless. He imagined that would change.
Too late for cold feet, he thought as he sat on the bed. He tugged off his boots. As he placed them next to his bureau, he spotted the bolt of fabric propped beside it, still wrapped in the brown paper.
Perfect.
He picked up the package as Cora walked into the room, draped in white from her chin to toes. He’d never seen the crisp white wrapper. He was pleased to see her hair down. She’d brushed the tight curls into loose waves of autumn fire.
“Come and sit down,” he said, walking toward the bed. He sat on the side of the mattress and patted the spot beside him. “I have something for you.” He held up the brown parcel. “A wedding gift.”
Her eyes lit with surprise. “When could you have gotten me a present?”
“This morning.”
She sat beside him and he slid the package onto her lap.
“I didn’t have the forethought to get a ring. Hopefully this will do until we have the time to ride down into one of the rail towns.”
She simply stared at the long present, her eyes slowly hazed with tears. “Oh, Chance. You didn’t.”
He supposed the rectangular shape gave it away. “Open it,” he urged.
He’d never given a gift to a woman, and discovered his own heart thumped with excitement just to see her pull that fabric from the paper.
“I’ve got a pocket knife,” he said, reaching toward his belt.
Her arms shot protectively over the paper and twine. “Don’t you dare!”
Chance sat back, enjoying the light in her eyes as she began to carefully untie the knotted rope. She folded the long string into a neat pile before searching for the edge of the brown paper. You’d think the paper was made of silk for the care she took in peeling it back.
“My God, woman, I could have branded a dozen horses in the time it’s taking you to undo that bit of paper.”
She only smiled. Even though she knew what was hidden beneath the wrapping, she seemed surprised when the soft apricot fabric was finally revealed, inch by tiny inch. Her lips parted as she brushed her fingers over the smooth cloth.
“I saw you touching it just like that in the store,” he said.
“You bought all of it.” She glanced up, her eyes bright with moisture. “It must have cost a fortune!”
“Do you like it?”
“I love it,” she said, her tears twinkling like stars in the lamplight as they spilled over her cheeks.
“Then it was worth every cent.”
“Thank you.”
He kissed her lightly on the lips.
“You’re welcome.”
“There’s enough here for all of us. The girls and Skylar. We’ll have to start making patterns.”
“Tomorrow,” he said, lifting the material and setting it aside. When he turned around Cora stood, glancing cautiously at the bed.
“Here,” he said, moving behind her. “I’ll take your robe.” He slipped his hands over her shoulders and pulled the white cotton from her arms before she could protest. He said they wouldn’t consummate the marriage. That didn’t mean they couldn’t enjoy each other.
The gown he found underneath made him second-guess his tactics. Tight sheer lace hugged every smooth curve from her shoulders, to her waist, to the flare of her hips where a white satin skirt draped to the floor. She turned toward him and Chance forgot how to breathe. A satin ribbon threaded up the center kept the full swell of her breasts bound in the delicate lace. Pink buds pressed against the bodice, the rosy tips rising to a point beneath his appreciative gaze. Had the lace gone lower than the dip of her navel, she’d have brought him to his knees for sure. As it was, standing had become rather painful.
“Another wedding gift,” she said, nervously crossing her arms. “Skylar gave it to me.”
What the hell was his sister-in-law trying to do to him? He forced his gaze up past her chin. “It’s…nice.”
Her sigh of relief seemed to vibrate through the room. If she took one step closer, he could relieve any further doubt of just how attracted he was to her, but he imagined that sort of proof would send her screaming from the room.
“You’re beautiful.” He kissed her blushing cheek.
“Chance?” she said, her voice husky with a desire he knew she was just starting to recognize.
“Don’t be afraid of me,” he whispered, and pressed his mouth to hers. Her lips parted beneath his. He kissed her slowly, deeply, until she trembled and leaned into him. He placed his hands on her hips, carefully keeping distance between their bodies. Biting back a groan of regret, he eased away from her.
“Why don’t you go on and get into bed,” he said, quickly looking away from her, needing a chance to cool down.
“Which side should I take?”
“Doesn’t matter.” If things went the way he was hoping, they’d be sharing the middle.
Conscious of her eyes following his every move, he pulled his belt from the loops, set it on the bureau, then began unbuttoning his shirt.
“Should I turn out the lamp?” she asked as he shrugged off his shirt.
“If you want to.” He reached for the strained closure of his trousers.
“Chance?”
He glanced over his shoulder and fought the urge to laugh out loud. Covers pulled up to her chin, she gazed up at him with wide brown eyes.
“Yeah?”
“What do you intend to sleep in?”
He looked away from her as he popped open the buttons, nearly groaning at the instant relief. “I believe we had this conversation a few weeks back in the kitchen. I don’t own any pajamas, and I usually sleep in all that God gave me.”
He heard a flutter of bed covers, just before the room went dark. Chuckling, he tugged off his trousers and realized the darkness could definitely work to his advantage. He wouldn’t have to worry about the hunger revealed in his gaze as he snuggled up to her. Touching would only add to his suffering, but he wasn’t new to torture, and he wasn’t going to win over his bride by keeping distance between them. As much as he wanted to see his hands on her soft skin, it was just as well that he couldn’t—not yet.
He slid beneath the covers and kept inching until he found the warm woman huddled on the far side. He curved around her small form. She stiffened against him.
“Relax, Cora. I just want to hold you.”
A hard breath broke from her lungs. “Hold me?” her voice squeaked.
He kissed the shell of her ear. “Do you mind?”
Her hair tickled his cheek as she shook her head. His arm slid around her waist as he settled on her pillow.
After a few moments he realized she wasn’t breathing. He stroked her lace-bound stomach, and the breath broke from her lungs.
“We’re just holding each other, Cora Mae,” he said, smiling into her hair. He breathed in her sweet scent. Despite the hunger gripping his body, he was happy just to have her in his arms. He’d wait as long as it took to gain her trust.
Cora trembled despite the warmth of his chest against her back. His hand tucked beneath her breasts was creating a heat all of its own. His warm palm shifted again, sliding across her belly and she choked on a breath.
“Should I get another blanket?”
Good heavens, she was about to catch fire.
“Cora Mae?”
“No,” she said, laughing. Nervous tension, she thought. He’d touched her like this up at Mag’s cabin, and she’d very much enjoyed it. Of course, they’d both been fully clothed, in the light of day.
Chance slid his arm beneath her pillow and gathered her closer. Cora released a long breath, forcing herself to relax in his arms, knowing he’d never hurt her. She wished she hadn’t put out the lamp.
“I thought this evening went rather well,” he said conversationally. “Not bad for a shotgun wedding.”
The vibrations of his voice against her back increased the tantalizing stir of her body.
“What did you think?” he persisted, his hand sliding over her hip.
Now he’s talkative?
“Cora Mae?”
“Yes,” she said, smiling at the thought that he’d need reassurance about their wedding ceremony. “It was lovely.”
He nuzzled her hair. “You were breathtaking,” he whispered near her ear.
A surge of pleasure shimmered inside her. She’d been so nervous. To her surprise, the dress had actually fit quite nicely.
“Will you let me kiss you?”
“Now?”
“I can’t think of anything I’d like more, but only if you want to.” His lips brushed the shell of her ear, sending a wave of tremors clear to her toes.
Drawing a deep, silent breath, she shifted. As she turned toward him, the hand on her hip slid across her stomach to the small of her back. His other arm slipped beneath her head, the warmth of his skin branding her cheek as she settled into the new position. His breath dusted her face, sending tendrils of sensation shooting up from her belly. She wished she could see him.
“If I do anything you don’t like, I want you to tell me. Will you do that?”
“Yes.”
His lips touched hers, lightly, tentatively. Again she wished she could see him.
When his mouth returned, it seemed only natural to open to him. Her tongue met his, and bursts of tingling heat shot through her. She slid her fingers into his hair as he caressed her side, her belly…her breast.
“Chance!”
“I won’t hurt you,” he said, his thumb brushing across the sensitive peak, leaving sparks beneath her skin as his mouth stroked her throat. “I just want to kiss you. I want to kiss you all over.”
She couldn’t deny that what he was doing felt incredibly good. Her body hummed as his lips moved down her neck to her shoulder.
“Do you mind?” His breath dusted the skin between her breasts.
Cora couldn’t have answered him if she’d tried. He kissed her straining nipple through the delicate lace, dragging a moan from deep in her throat as pleasure blossomed beneath her skin. His tongue circled and teased, the warm moisture of his mouth stealing her breath. He hovered above her, though nothing touched her but his hand stroking her sides and his warm, wonderful mouth on her breast.
As his lips slid back up to her neck, she hardly noticed the gown sliding off her shoulders. Only when her fingers were forced from his hair did she protest, a protest that died the moment his mouth returned to her breast—this time no lace to dull the sensation of his tongue. Her back arched off the bed. He drew her into his mouth and pleasure pulsed through her body.
“Chance!” S
he strained her eyes, wanting to see him.
“I won’t take you.”
Distracted by the desire building inside her, she barely registered his words.
“Just kisses,” he whispered, kissing a trail to her other breast, treating her to the same tantalizing torment.
She twisted against wild sensations ravaging her body, the sweet ache welling between her legs. His lips carried sparks of fire across her belly, and Cora groaned, flexing against him.
Again she opened her eyes. Again she saw only darkness.
“Chance?”
“Trust me,” he breathed against her skin. His hands stroked down her bare legs, and she realized her gown was bunched at her waist.
“Only pleasure,” he whispered. His palms smoothed up her inner thighs, opening her to him as his lips carried fire to her very core. “I promise.”
“Oh, my goodness,” she breathed, the air sizzling from her lungs as his mouth claimed her. She arched against the new surge of desire. Pleasure spiked as his tongue circled and stroked. She gripped at the sheets, crying out as bursts of sweet lightning ripped through her, stripping away everything as Chance consumed her with wild wonderful pulses of sensation and light.
Her mind lost in a haze, her lungs burning for breath, Cora realized with a start that Chance had released her.
Opening her eyes to darkness, she surged up. His arms closed around her, bringing her back down on the bed. Fear stamped out the last of the sensations that had consumed her just moments ago as the memory of being held down in the dark flashed in her mind. She tensed as he drew her close.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, loosening his hold.
“I can’t see you,” she whispered, knowing it made no sense. She knew it was Chance who held her, Chance’s kisses that had driven her to delirium. “I need to see you.”
“You want me to light the lamp?”
“Would you?”
“Sure.”
Chance hesitated, uncertain as to how she’d react to her state of undress, or the evidence of his violently aroused body. “If that’s what you want.”
“Yes, please.”
“All right.” He moved to the side of the bed.
“Wait!” Her fingers closed over his arm like steel talons.
