by Leah Braemel
Jackson poured some water into the washbowl. After dampening the wash cloth, he scrubbed it over his face and neck so hard she was surprised he hadn’t removed the top layer of skin. When he finally spoke, his voice was gruff. “Why do you think I regret being married to you?”
“Because you said you wished I’d married Nate, not you. I thought if we gave ourselves some time we might suit, but you’re not even giving me a chance, are you?”
His jaw dropped for a moment before he turned back to the ewer. With a soft curse, he tossed the washcloth in the bowl. “I meant you would have been better off with Nate instead of me. Not that I regret marryin’ you.”
Before she could move, he’d crossed the floor and cupped his hand beneath her jaw. His touch was gentle, as if she were a bird or a delicate object he might break. “I would have liked to have done the deciding and askin’ myself instead of bein’ forced by McLeod to take marriage vows, I can’t deny it. But I’ll do my best to do right by you, you hear? I may not be able to build you as big a house or furnish it with things as fine as this one, but I’ll never regret that you’re my wife.”
“Then stop apologizing for what you can’t give me.” She leaned her cheek into his palm. “In case you hadn’t noticed, I didn’t have much at Mr. McLeod’s home, either.”
“You always call him Mr. McLeod. In all these years, he never let you call him Pa or Pop or some such?”
She shook her head. “I’m the living reminder that his wife cuckolded him. Would you accept another man’s child as your own?”
“I’d like to think I’d man up to my responsibilities. It ain’t the child’s fault who her parents are. Or aren’t.” His hand left her jaw to play with a tendril of hair that had fallen in her wild ride. “What about your mama? She must have loved you.”
“She said she did. When no one was around, she used to call me her special gift.”
Maybe he heard the sorrow in her voice, because he frowned and asked, “And when others were around?”
Sarah dropped her gaze. “Then she’d say I was God’s way of punishing her for her sins.”
Jackson cursed under his breath. “Given the way McLeod treated you, she was probably saying it to keep him happy. Miss Martha does that to keep her husband happy when he’s ornery.”
Ornery. That described Mr. McLeod to a T. And Jackson was right, her mother loved her—when they were out of Josiah’s sight.
Would she find herself resorting to such measures now she was married too?
His brows drew even closer together. “I don’t want you doin’ that to me, you hear? Next time you have a problem with somethin’ I do, or somethin’ I say, you come out and tell me. I ain’t McLeod or Miss Martha’s Abner so you don’t have to worry about me hittin’ you or nothing. I promise.”
“I won’t have to see Mr. McLeod again. Will I?”
He shook his head, his expression softer somehow. “Not unless you want to.”
“I don’t.”
“Then that’s settled. You’re mine. All mine.” He bent his head and brushed his lips over hers. Her eyes fluttered closed as the heat in her belly spread upward. And lower. Surely he could hear her heart thumping against her ribs or knew how her blood raced so close to the surface.
With deft fingers, he unbuttoned her bodice and spread the fabric wide. She sucked in a breath when he unhooked her corset and pulled it from her.
“I thought I told you not to wear one of those while we were riding.”
“I didn’t know who I’d be meeting when we arrived. I wanted to make a good impression.”
“Aw, darlin’, any person who judges you by what undergarments you wear ain’t worth worryin’ about.”
When his hand cupped her breast, she leaned into him with a soft sigh. He deepened the kiss, parting her lips with his tongue. It had been strange the first time he’d done it, but she’d found she enjoyed it. Especially when he kissed her like that at the same time he played with her breast.
She leaned full against him by the time he broke off the kiss.
“I’m thinking maybe you need proof that I don’t mind being married to you.”
She already had the proof, if the erection pressing into her belly was an indicator.
He undid her riding skirt with a murmured, “You wear too many clothes.” Her chemise was quickly drawn over her head, her knickers pushed over her hips leaving her naked, vulnerable. His gaze raked her from the top of her head to her stockinged feet. “I’ve been thinking about doing this all day.”
He had?
With that, he dipped his head again. Instead of kissing her mouth, this time he laid a series of soft kisses down her neck until she was trembling. When he captured one nipple with his mouth, she had to hang on to his shoulders with both hands.
Her whole body seemed connected somehow. Her mouth, her neck, her breasts, and parts of her body she’d barely been aware of before. Secret parts. The first night they’d been together he’d called it her pussy—maybe because he liked stroking it, she wasn’t sure. All she did know was that when he touched her like this, her pussy and other parts of her body, deep inside, ached in a way she’d never experienced before.
He pressed her onto the feather mattress and parted her legs, exposing her private parts to him, but she’d learned that very first time not to try to cover it from him. “You have such a pretty pussy. It’s all swollen and glistening, waiting for me to taste it like a fresh picked plum.”
Her cheeks must have been the same color as a plum the first time he’d put his mouth down there. Even now, knowing what he would do, she felt the blush creeping over her chest, up her neck and flooding her face.
He undid his belt, then unbuttoned his trousers and let them drop; his belt buckle hit the floor with a clank. His erection was stiff against his underclothes, a hard ridge that still startled her. He wasted no time in stepping out of his drawers before kneeling on the bed between her outspread knees.
His fingers feathered light trails up the inside of her thighs. “Have you been thinking about this, Sarah? About us bein’ in a real bed tonight? About me doin’ this to you?”
Aware that her breathing was shallow, shaky, she nodded. Was it scandalous for a woman to admit? Would he think her her mother’s daughter for such thoughts?
“Good. I’m glad.” His hands found her lower lips and parted them. It felt so…strange, so wonderful.
He should let her get dressed. Take her out to the kitchen and feed her. From the smells wafting down the hall and the sounds of cutlery clanking, Martha was setting the table, which meant the meal would soon follow. But now he knew what had set Sarah off, he needed this. To remind her that despite what she’d thought he said, he desired her as a woman, that he didn’t feel saddled to her. To ease that part of him that demanded he claim her as his own.
Her skin was so soft beneath his fingers, though her thighs were muscular. No doubt from the riding she’d done. It had damned near scared him to death when she’d insisted on riding that high-spirited stallion Bandit. But she’d proven to be an excellent horsewoman, never letting the horse forget who was in charge.
He dragged his thumb between her glistening folds again. Her body rippled and tightened with each stroke. Her eyelids fluttered closed as she gave in to his attentions. She was so responsive to even the gentlest touch. What more could a man ask from his wife?
Wife. He still wasn’t used to the concept, but damned if he wasn’t going to enjoy its benefits.
He lowered his mouth to her juncture and allowed himself a taste of her. Moisture coated his tongue as he lapped at her folds. Now he’d had a taste of her spicy musk, he’d never get it out of his head. And from the way she was moving her hips, pressing her sweet pussy into his face, she was enjoying herself as well.
Alternating between lapping and nipping at that tight little bud hidden in her folds, Jackson paid close attention to her moans. His chin was coated in her juices when he slid his first finger into her. She groane
d as her muscles clamped around him, drawing him deeper.
“Jackson, please.” Her voice was low and husky, her plea unmistakable as her hands clenched his hair as though she thought she might float away if she didn’t hold tight.
“I gotcha.”
A second finger joined the first, pumping slowly against her sensitive front wall. He continued the movement with his fingers, concentrating on driving her wild with his tongue, teasing that sensitive nerve bundle until her body stiffened. She didn’t scream her release like some of the women he’d bedded, but the sounds she was making could probably be heard clear down to the kitchen.
They were definitely being felt clear down to his balls. As soon as her legs relaxed, he withdrew his hand. He positioned the head of his cock and slid into her warm, still-pulsing pussy.
His breath caught in his throat when her muscles clamped around his shaft, holding him in. Holy hell in a bucket, that first wave hadn’t been her climax. That had just been the lead-up.
His world reduced to the bed, to Sarah’s face scrunched up and eyes closed as she rode out her orgasm. Sweet mercy, he couldn’t stop himself from rearing up and thrusting deeper, withdrawing and plunging deep again. Her legs wrapped tight around his hips, her arms straining to drag him down to her.
Their lips fused together, her hands streaking over him, touching, exploring until he was mindless. He’d never known such a craving. Both his and hers. He drove her, ruthless in his quest to watch her—feel her—orgasm again. When she bucked beneath him, demanding more, urging him to be rougher, harder, he growled and complied.
No wilting miss, not his Sarah. She was his match. Strong. Vital. Challenging. She gave as good as she got, her fingers digging into his ass cheeks. The bite of pain from her fingernails threatened to send him over the edge, but he was damned if he’d come without her.
He moved from her neck where he’d buried his face to her breast and captured one of those dark plump buds with his teeth, nipping just enough that it might sting for a bit. He flattened his tongue and soothed the sting, then repeated the process all over again until her body stiffened beneath his. One thrust, another and she shattered, taking him with her.
Chapter Five
Horses and carriages filled the town square that had been almost empty when Sarah had ridden through it the week before. Farmers stood in groups, no doubt talking about last year’s crops or perhaps speculating about the upcoming season. A dozen stalls had been set up in the center by a few hopeful peddlers braving a brisk wind, winter’s final gasp.
Once Nate stopped the carriage, he jumped down and tied off Bandit. Sarah clambered from the carriage and stood beside him. He tucked her hand in the crook of his arm. “The dress shop is half a block down. After you’ve been fitted, I need to stop off at the mercantile to put in an order. Then we can wander around the market stalls.”
He was so naturally good-natured she had to smile. “It was really nice of you to bring me into town today.”
“I had to come in anyway.” He ducked his head. “Besides, both Miss Martha and Jackson made me promise to make sure you buy some new gowns. And they’re powerful hard people to ignore when they get an idea in their heads.”
Jackson. Would she ever get to a point where she didn’t feel like the third person in the relationship? “You’d do anything for him, wouldn’t you?”
Nate stopped walking and turned to face her. “Of course—he’s my best friend. But I would have offered to bring you along anyway.”
He would have brought in a stranger if he’d been asked, she realized. She’d hit him and kneed him. And then taken his best friend—his lover—from him. “When I came into the barn that night I had no idea I’d end up coming between you. I’ve not had a chance to apologize to you for that.”
He glanced away, his expression shuttered. “It was probably for the best. He’s the only man who I’ve ever felt that way about, and I was starting to take chances around him that I shouldn’t have. I don’t blame you, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
He met her gaze once more. How many men would have been so honest with her about himself?
“But make no mistake, Sarah,” he continued, “I would have been proud to have stood beside the preacher with you if McLeod had let me. I would have tried to be a good husband to you.”
His sincerity warmed her heart. She thanked whatever had led them to the McLeod ranch that day. If they hadn’t, she’d never believed men such as them existed.
As they started walking toward the dressmakers, Sarah wondered what it would be like to have married Nate instead of Jackson. He was good natured and would have treated her kindly, she was certain. He was definitely handsome though in a different sort of way than Jackson, whose rugged looks created a charm of their own.
Nate had dressed for town, abandoning his farm clothes. His fashionable wool great coat must have set him back quite a few dollars, as had his tooled leather boots. But he wore them so casually she hadn’t felt like a drab little mouse, until a woman wearing a moss-green silk gown beneath a matching velvet cloak stopped in front of them.
“Good mornin’, Mr. Campbell.” She twirled a lacy parasol that matched the ivory bows on both her cloak and her bonnet. This was the type of woman Nate deserved to walk down the street with.
“Afternoon’, Miss Eliza.” Nate tipped his hat at the woman. Sarah wondered that he didn’t smile back at the woman, and at the way his arm tensed beneath her fingers. “Miss Eliza Owens, may I introduce you to Mrs. Sarah Kellar, Jackson’s wife, and a good friend of mine.”
“Jackson’s wife?” The woman’s gaze was sharp, matching her tone. “At least he’s given up chasing after us God-fearing white women and sticking to his own kind.”
“Shrew,” Nate muttered just loud enough for Sarah to hear.
Heartened by Nate’s comment, Sarah stiffened her spine and met the woman’s cool gaze. She’d be darned if she’d say it was a pleasure to meet this harridan.
“If you’ll excuse us, Miss Eliza.” Nate covered Sarah’s hand with his and led her away, leaving the woman staring after them. “Sorry about her, Miss Sarah. Most folk in Barnett Springs aren’t so narrow-minded.”
“I’m used to it, don’t worry about me.” His annoyance on her behalf made it easier to slough off.
“Let’s get you out of this wind. That coat’s not fit for this weather.” Nate sheltered her with his body and led her to a store proclaiming the latest in ladies’ fashion. “Miss Martha said you needed new gowns, and she’s right. So we’re not leaving here until you buy at least three.”
He signaled to a clerk, who hurried to their side. Sarah gaped when he gave the clerk instructions to bring out a variety of her best fabrics and patterns for them to examine.
Horrified at the amount of money the fabrics would cost Jackson, Sarah turned to the woman now in the process of measuring her. “Just show me some plain fabrics. Some cottons and wools. I can make my own dresses.”
With a sideways glance at Nate, who nodded, the clerk pulled out bolts of fabric that Sarah deemed much more affordable. Once she’d made her choice, Nate led her to the mercantile. While he placed an order for some new pump he claimed could be installed in the house, she fingered a pair of soft kid gloves decorated with a finely embroidered spray of violets. The pair she wore, though repaired in multiple places, were serviceable enough for a while longer, she decided, trying to ignore the stab of regret when she put them down. She wandered to a display of women’s hats, where she fell in love with a totally impractical velvet bonnet adorned with ruched silk ribbons and a jaunty ostrich feather.
“You should buy it,” Nate encouraged, startling her from her dreams.
She shook her head. “It’s too expensive. The one I have may be plain, but it’s warm.”
He huffed in exasperation. “Jackson’ll be upset to find you’ve not bought anything but cheap cottons and rough wools. He can afford it, you know. That’s why he wanted you to come with me into t
own.”
“I don’t need fancy things, Nate. What I’ve ordered shall do me just fine.”
“Then at least let me buy you that pair of gloves you were admiring.”
He’d been watching her try them on? She glanced back at the gloves, sorely tempted, but shook her head. “I don’t need anything more. But I thank you for your offer. It was very kind.”
“You are one of the stubbornest women I’ve ever met.” He checked his pocket watch and stared at the sky. “It’s going to rain. Maybe even snow. We’ll have to come back to the market next month.”
Once again he tucked her hand in the crook of his arm and led her back to the square. As they approached the carriage, they had to step around three men admiring Bandit.
“That sure is a mighty fine lookin’ stallion you’ve got there, Campbell. How much would you charge for him to cover my Ladybird?” A heavy-set man with a greying handlebar moustache stroked Bandit’s neck, his eyes bright in appreciation.
“Well, now, it’s not me you should be talking to, Colonel. Bandit is Miss Sarah’s horse.”
Sarah jerked in astonishment. “But you—”
“Tell you what, Colonel, why don’t you come out to the Circle Star, and she and her husband can discuss stud fees with you tomorrow morning?” Grinning at Sarah, who raised an eyebrow at him, Nate touched the brim of his hat and handed her into the carriage.
Once they were trotting down the road, Sarah tugged at Nate’s arm. “Why did you say Bandit’s mine? You bought him from Mr. McLeod. I know what you paid for him. He’s yours.”
“No, he’s yours. Always has been.”
“You can’t just give away something that valuable. And not to me, another man’s wife. What would people think?”
“Aw, hang what others think. I can give you anything I want.” He held up a hand when she started to object. “You’ve been nothing but gracious to me and Jackson, especially considering what you saw that night.”
