“But—” We need to talk.
“Later.” His throat tightened with irritation. He just didn’t have it in him to be soothing tonight. On the contrary, he felt like breaking things. When he was in this volatile frame of mind, he wasn’t fit company for anybody—especially Abbie. Leaving her with her dress gaping, he walked out the door to his favorite chair, dropped his coat over the arm and yanked at his collar. The air felt good on his throat, but the softness of Abbie’s dress lingered on his fingertips.
Desire burned in his gut along with a bone-deep unease that left him spoiling for a fight. He needed to throw rocks by the stream, but he couldn’t leave Abbie. He tried sucking in air as if he had a cigarette, but his mouth felt dry and he wanted whiskey. Fed up with himself, John decided to go to the stable to clean his guns. But as he stood straight, he heard the squeak of the front door and saw Abbie walking in his direction, wearing a new dressing gown and looking worried.
John forced himself to look away. All through the wedding he’d been aware of the perfume she had dabbed at her throat. The scent was spicy-hot and like nothing he’d ever smelled on a woman’s skin. His need for her ran so deep it softened his heart—but not his resolve to keep away from her until he could be civil. Except she was getting closer with every step, and he couldn’t leave without hurting her feelings. John managed a curt nod. “It’s a nice night.”
Abbie laid her hand on his bicep. “Are you all right?”
Hell, no. “I’m fine.”
“You don’t look fine.”
Her hair was down and cascading over her shoulders in reddish waves. Each time she stroked his arm, the strands brushed against his sleeve. John had to knot his hands to stop himself from touching the curls. He wanted to feel them falling through his fingers, to lift her hair with his hands and spread it on his pillow…to make love to her so he could forget Ben Gantry and the fear in his gut.
Instead he looked up at the sky just as the first star emerged. A second one popped out, then a third. John took it as a sign. He’d get through the night one star at a time. Except those heavenly bodies were a million miles away and Abbie wasn’t.
Her fingers tightened on his sleeve. “I just want to say that I’m sorry for running out on you last night. I’ll never do that again.”
John knew they needed to talk, but he wasn’t feeling reasonable. He wanted to cuss and howl at the moon. How could he be so blessed and cursed at the same time? The future was shining like gold, but the past was a stinking mess that could hurt them all. Compared to his worries about Gantry, last night’s problems seemed small. “It’s in the past,” he said. “Why don’t you go inside?”
Looking sad, she put her arm around his waist and rested her cheek against his arm. When he didn’t move, she wrapped her other arm around his belly and hugged him. That caress was like giving a starving man a crust of bread and expecting him to be satisfied. Like that needy soul, John wanted the whole loaf. He wanted to bury himself in his wife. Here. Now. But he wouldn’t do it. She needed a tenderness he couldn’t manage tonight, so he said nothing.
Never mind that she was drawing lazy circles on his belly and searing a hole in his skin. The motion reminded him of the heart she’d drawn in that same spot. He had wanted to get her naked and do the dance. He still did, even more than last night. But instead of a hunger for the slow lovemaking she needed, he wanted the kind of hard sex that made a man forget. Annoyed, he put his hand on hers and pressed to hold her still. “Don’t.”
Abbie pulled back. “I’m just trying to be nice.”
“Well, I’m not in the mood for nice.”
“Maybe I’m not, either.” Her voice had turned shrill. “I’m just as tense and irritable as you are.”
“I doubt that,” he said dryly.
“Then talk to me.”
But he wasn’t in the mood to talk—not with her eyes burning into his and her breast brushing his arm. Couldn’t she see? She was fanning a flame he was trying to put out. Every brush of her body made him more ornery—and more determined to keep his hands to himself. Frowning, he replied with a grunt and stared pointedly at the sky.
Abbie grabbed his sleeve. “Don’t you dear clam up on me! If it’s because of last night—”
“Damn it, Abbie!” John couldn’t remember the last time he’d been this angry. “This has nothing to do with last night. That stuff’s easy compared to the weight I’ve got around my neck. For all I know, Ben Gantry is hiding in some canyon, just waiting for Susanna so he can hurt you both. He’s coming, Abbie. I feel it in my bones.”
“So what? I’m scared, too! But we’re partners, John. You have to let me help you!”
“Oh, yeah?”
“Yeah.”
When she crossed her arms over her chest, John put his hands on his hips. She shot him a look that sent him back to his first night out of prison. Like a fool, he’d picked a fight with Silas over a can of peas. It had been pure craziness, but the two men had ended up brawling and then laughing their butts off.
Staring into Abbie’s eyes, John saw a kindred spirit. His wife was a fighter, someone who needed to wrestle with her fears. Looking at her blazing eyes, he realized he’d been going about their lovemaking all wrong. The choice to do battle was Abbie’s, but if she needed someone to fight, he’d be glad to oblige. He gave her his most irksome smile. “You want to kiss me right now, don’t you?”
“Absolutely not!”
But her eyes flared even brighter and her breath quickened. John’s gaze stayed on her mouth, then traveled to her eyes where he saw the girl from Kansas. He reached up and touched her cheek. “You’re lying. I can feel it.”
Abbie’s eyes flared. “What I want is…is…to kick you where it counts!”
John hoped she wasn’t being literal, but it was a chance he was willing to take. He gave her another wicked smirk. “So what’s stopping you?”
As her eyes caught fire with understanding, she grabbed a fistful of his shirt, pulling so hard that his mouth came within an inch of hers. He ached to take over but he stood still, barely breathing as her pupils dilated into fierce black circles.
Do it, Abbie. Kiss me… He was willing her to fight him like she had wanted to fight Robert—for herself, for their future—but her eyes were flickering with confusion. As a man who’d once been a prisoner, John understood the strange taste of freedom. It stirred a man’s blood and scared him to death at the same time.
Knowing Abbie needed someone who would urge her up and over that hill, he tangled his fingers in her hair. The scent of perfume filled his nose as he lifted the curls and let them fall in a fiery wave. All the while, he peered into her eyes, taunting her, willing the rebel to come out and play. When his touch alone didn’t put more fire in her eyes, John grazed her ear with his lips. “If you weren’t such a chicken, you’d—”
Before he could blink, Abbie had him against the wall with her knee wedged between his thighs and her hands pressed against his chest. He could feel the tension in her leg as she pressed against him—hard enough to arouse him even more, but not so hard that he’d be singing soprano. The rub of her thigh was hellishly arousing, and the fire burned even hotter when she pressed her mouth against his.
But John wasn’t about to lose control—not this time. He wanted to be aware of every nuance of her hands and lips in case the fire proved too much. But right now that fire was an inferno. Abbie was kissing the daylights out of him and he tasted it all—tangling tongues, swollen lips, the belligerence of a woman who’d once been a victim and the hope of a man who wanted to be her champion. It was the most honest kiss they had ever shared.
Knowing the tide of battle could turn, John took only as much from Abbie as she was taking from him. When she gripped his biceps, he clasped her upper arms with an equal strength. When she nibbled his bottom lip, he teased hers with a tiny nip of his own. As her body grew more feverish, so did his—until they were like one creature with a single heart. No longer was she a helpless gir
l being forced to marry or an imprisoned wife. She was a woman staking her claim on a new life and a new man. She wanted the best of everything and so did John.
He was urging her on with his lips when she broke the kiss and stared at his face. It worried him until she cupped his cheeks and stroked his skin. Her eyes filled with light and she kissed him again—tenderly—as if the need to fight had dissolved into a thirst for innocence. Feeling that same hunger, he curled his arm around her waist and took the weight of her breast in his palm. He watched as her eyes filled with desire. Following his heart, he stroked the tip once, twice, a third time—and then stopped. With an insistent gleam in her eyes, Abbie put her hand on top of his and worked his fingers for him.
He let her play…for about five seconds. Then he tugged the tie off her robe and parted the sides, revealing a white cotton gown with a row of ribbons. He untied each one until the cotton gaped to her waist and bared her breasts. As he clasped her hips to pull her forward, she swayed against him so that her breasts pushed up. John took the swollen tip between his teeth and suckled like a babe. With a soft cry, she ran her fingers through his hair, held him to her breast and whispered, “This feels so right.”
That was all he needed to hear. He hooked his arms around her shoulders and knees, scooped her off her feet and strode toward their bedroom. Bending one knee, he twisted the knob with his wrist and kicked the door open with his foot. As it flew wide, he plopped his wife onto their bed and fell next to her. In a blink they were wrestling for the top. Rolling, teasing, taunting…unbuttoning, looking, tasting…claiming possession of each other until he couldn’t a wait another minute.
With the moonlight streaming across the bed and the sheets in a tangle, John straddled his naked wife and gave her a wicked grin. “This is your last chance to say stop.”
“Don’t you dare!”
Clutching at his back, she invited him home with tears of joy. At the same time, the bedroom took on the fragrance of a humid Kansas night. An owl hooted outside the window as he matched the angle of their hips, and the mattress cradled them both as they became one body. They were at the beginning…again. Only this time they were locked together for eternity, planting a garden that belonged only to them.
Stroke for stroke, Abbie was matching him, driving him crazy with little squeaks from her throat and the prick of her fingernails digging into his back. She was battling for release, pushing and pulling against him. Feeling her need as his own, John drove deep and held still, giving her all the control.
She took it…and his, too. That was a first for John. He’d always been able to last as long as he wanted but not tonight. Not with Abbie. With his body shuddering and hers tightening around him with spasms of her own, he discovered how it felt to be fully owned by a woman. He didn’t know where she ended and he began. All he knew was that they were thinking the same thoughts and melting in the same places. Poignant tears had pushed into her eyes. Spent and empty except for her love, he felt that same welling in his own as he collapsed on top of her.
It was a profound moment for John, but it was also something far simpler. Sex was just plain fun and he wanted to do it again. Softer now but still eager, he figured he’d rest inside his wife for about five minutes. Or maybe less… Maybe he didn’t need to rest at all….
Abbie wiggled against her nearly unconscious husband and laughed. “That was remarkable!”
His chest rumbled with a chuckle of his own. They were still entwined, soft and melting together. Abbie had never felt anything like the last few minutes. A radiance had filled her belly and it was still there. It wasn’t the same feeling as the clenching that had pushed her beyond reason. It was more like a hot-water bottle, gentle and lasting…even healing.
Tears pressed behind her eyes. Her heart had been set free by love. Was it too much to ask that her body be healed as well? Already her husband was growing hard inside of her, rocking gently and kissing her mouth. Wanting more of everything, Abbie cradled him in her hips and rocked with him. This time their lovemaking was a slow climb and she didn’t miss a thing—not the taste of his mouth, not the flex of his arms as he pushed up to look into her eyes, not the passion on his face as he took her up, up up…and over the hill.
Just as before, her body clenched and she found release. So did her husband—with a mind-numbing slowness that pushed her over the edge for a third time and left her limp and weeping. Not because of the physical release, but because she hadn’t experienced the same warmth spreading through her womb.
Abbie thought of Julio’s ring and the promise of a daughter and four sons. She knew how John felt about more children, but she had seen him holding the Trent baby after the wedding, and his eyes had brimmed with love when he’d told the world about Susanna. Surely the past few days had changed his mind. A baby…their love alive in her womb… kicks to her belly and John’s hand on her tummy. He was lying next to her now, sleepy and relaxed as Abbie stroked his hair. “Do you believe in miracles?” she asked.
“Absolutely.”
“I think we just had one.”
With a crooked smile, he shifted so that he was spooning her backside and stroking her belly. “You’re going to have a lot of miracles.”
“I expect so, but I’m talking about something else. The first time felt different. It was more than just us. Do you know what I mean?”
John cuddled her closer. “We did pretty good for newlyweds.”
“That’s the understatement of the year. We did great. I wonder if maybe Julio’s ring was a kind of promise.” Abbie took a small breath. “Would you mind terribly if we had a baby together?”
John lifted his hand from her belly and slid back. The mattress dipped as he sat up and dangled his legs over the side of the bed. “Do you really think it’s possible?”
His icy tone stunned her, but then she realized that his only experience with fatherhood had been awful. Abbie made her voice gentle. “I’ll never forget how it felt to hold Susanna for the first time. She was so small and alive, and I felt nothing but love flowing through me.”
“You’re a good mother,” John said quietly. “I envy you that joy, but you know I don’t want more children. If there’s any doubt, I’ll use a French letter.”
Not if Abbie had anything to say about it, but she didn’t want to argue with him tonight. Stroking his hand, she said, “That’s a decision we’ll make together.”
“Or we can keep track of your monthly and be careful.”
But Abbie had no desire to be careful in bed—not after the risk she’d taken tonight. But neither did she want to push John. Some problems couldn’t be solved by talk, so she decided to let the subject drop.
“You know me,” she said. “It’s just a nice thought.”
John blew out a breath and settled back into bed. As he stretched next to her, she rested her cheek on his shoulder, but his arms didn’t feel as tight. When she snuggled closer, he stayed still. And when she tipped her head and kissed his jaw, he gave her a peck, snuggled just once and pretended to be asleep.
Robbie came home the next morning wearing a new hat and carrying five bags of penny candy. Abbie didn’t mind a little spoiling. It was a grandparent’s duty, but she worried that her father was trying to lure Robbie to Kansas with bribes. She also wanted to tell her son she was proud of him for staying at the church yesterday. As he sat at the kitchen table, Abbie cut a slice of leftover cake and opened the icebox for a pitcher of milk. “How was your night with your grandfather?”
Robbie’s mouth drooped into a frown. “It wasn’t fun like it used to be. He says John’s a bad person. I don’t think he is.”
Abbie nearly dropped the pitcher. “I don’t think so, either.”
“They’re out front right now.” Her son looked at her with the eyes he’d inherited from his father. But instead of seeing Robert Windsor, Abbie saw a young man with a mind of his own.
“I hate shouting,” he said. “I didn’t like it when Father yelled at you. I never s
aid that before.”
A lump rose in Abbie’s throat. She wanted to hug him, but she knew that young men had their pride. Instead she set the milk in front of him and ruffled his hair. “You made me very proud yesterday. You’re growing up.”
“Yeah, I guess.” As he lifted the fork, he wrinkled his brow. “Grandfather wants me to go to a fancy school.”
Abbie stifled a sigh. She wanted the best education for her son, but she was just as concerned about his character. Between studying the law and living with love, she put more weight on the love. Since love came with respect, she decided Robbie had earned a say in the matter. “What would you like to do?”
As he swallowed a bite of cake, he looked up. “I want to stay here. Do you think John will teach me how to shoot?”
Abbie didn’t hesitate. “I already asked him and he said yes. But you have to do exactly what he says. It’s dangerous.”
“Thanks, Ma.” He smiled wide, then in that awkward way of boys, he said, “I love you.”
“I love you, too.” She wanted this moment to be tender and honest, so she said, “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about John and your sister before the wedding. It had to be a shock.”
Robbie turned even redder. “Ma, I’m almost thirteen. I know about…stuff. I figured it out myself.”
When her son looked shocked at himself for mentioning “stuff” to his mother, Abbie hid a smile. “Just so you know the truth.”
As she pushed to her feet, the front door opened and closed with a thud. John paced into the kitchen, saw Robbie and paused. Abbie knew he wouldn’t grumble about Lawton in front of the boy, but Robbie’s curiosity had already been piqued. “What happened?” her son asked.
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