by Beverly Long
Without so much as a glance in his direction, he watched Bella nod at Stroud and then walk onto the dance floor. Stroud followed. Jed told himself that he didn’t care. Madeline Devine wasn’t so careful about hiding how she felt about the situation. She stood there, her mouth hanging open, her breath coming in short spurts.
He did not intend to discuss it with her. He looked to his right, saw a group of men gathered near the dessert table, and headed toward them.
“Gentlemen,” he greeted the group. “Did you leave a piece of pie for me?” he asked. See. He could make conversation when he needed to.
Wymer patted his stomach, which hung significantly over his belt. “I believe that might have been the best dinner yet.”
Jed had hardly tasted his food. And it was her fault. “Yes, the ladies should be proud.”
“You brought Freida’s niece didn’t you?” Wymer asked.
He could feel the hair on the back of his neck prickle up. “I did.” He resisted the urge to turn around.
Earl Bean, who’d been hovering in the back of the group, stepped forward. “Whose the fellow that she’s dancing with?” he asked.
“Ben Stroud. Comes from over near Shinoah.”
Wymer scratched his chin. “Stroud, you say. A couple years back I bought a mare from a man named Stroud. Poor thing never did settle down. I figured somebody had beat the hell out of her once too often.”
Jed turned around so quickly that his hip caught the edge of the table. Stroud and Bella were dancing the polka. He held her at a respectable distance and the two of them, while not the best dancers he’d ever seen, were managing to do the music justice.
“Might not have been the same man,” Wymer said. He tried to pull his pants over his belly but didn’t meet with much success. “Just the same, I got me a daughter about Bella’s age and I wouldn’t want to take a chance on her dancing with a man like that. I suppose you wouldn’t want your sister dancing with a man like that.”
Wymer’s message was loud and clear. He thought Jedidiah wasn’t doing his duty.
Christ. His duty was all he’d been doing since he returned to Mantosa five years ago. “She’s not your daughter and she’s not my sister. I don’t much care who she dances with.”
That was enough to send Earl Bean running to the dance floor. And for the next hour, most every single man who’d been standing near the table, even Wymer, found their way to the dance floor. By the time intermission was called and Bella returned to stand next to Jed, she was breathing hard which did not make the top of her dress any less tight. He stared at his shoes.
“Seems like you’re having a good time,” he said.
“I’m so out of shape,” she said.
“What?”
“I mean…I’m a bit winded. Not used to dancing I guess.”
Her face was flushed, her eyes sparkled, and wisps of hair clung to her neck. He imagined that she might look very much the same after spending a night in a man’s bed. Her skin would taste salty, her breasts would rise and fall with shallow, quick breaths, and her thighs would be sticky with both his and her pleasure.
She’d been married. She no doubt knew how to delight a man, to make him ache with need.
He rubbed his chin. “You know you being a widow and all, I think you might want to be a bit more careful. Men could get the wrong idea.”
She turned toward him. “What?”
CHAPTER EIGHT
It occurred to him that she might not appreciate him passing judgment. God knows he’d had enough people pass judgment on him and he’d hated every minute of it. It made him wish he’d never said anything. But damn it, a woman’s reputation was sometimes all she had. She should be concerned about it. It she wasn’t, then she should at least be a bit more observant about Freida’s position. People respected Freida. It wouldn’t do to have them whispering behind her back.
“Well?” She prompted him. She cocked her head to the side and the movement caused a strand of her hair to brush the underside of her chin. And God help him, he could see how soft her skin looked and it didn’t take much of an imagination to know how it might feel to place his lips there.
His father had no doubt been fooled by smooth skin and a subtle scent that seemed to want to drag a man under. “I don’t know why I need to explain this to you. But since you seem determined to be deliberately dense, I’ll just say it. You’re a widow. A woman who has been without a man. People watching you tonight might get the wrong idea.”
She pressed her lips together. “Your sister is a widow,” she said finally. “And didn’t I hear you encouraging her, almost congratulating her, on coming into town yesterday.”
He blew out air—hard enough that she could not mistake his irritation. “Coming into town and carrying on with a group of men are two different things.”
She drew herself up. “Carrying on?” she repeated, her lips barely moving. “Perhaps if you’d have asked me to dance yourself then I’d have had no opportunity to carry on and embarrass myself and evidently you, too.”
So it was his fault that she’d let ten or more men hold her tonight. “I guess I’m inclined to favor the opportunity to choose my partner, rather than having her thrust upon me.”
She let out a soft gasp and he was fairly confident she hadn’t done it for his benefit. She looked like she’d been struck.
“I want to go back to my aunt’s house,” she said, her tone colder than the outside air.
Christ. He should not have said that. Not only would Freida and Elizabeth want his head, it simply wasn’t fair to Bella. He’d had his opportunity to step aside and let Earl Bean escort her to the dance but he hadn’t taken it. “Bella, I’m—”
“Please,” she interrupted. “Can we just go?”
He’d hurt her and he wasn’t proud of that. Hell, maybe he could just go find a sick cat or an old dog to kick, too. Hopefully by the time they’d reached Freida’s, she’d have cooled enough to accept his apology. “I’ll tell Freida that we’re taking our leave,” he said.
She turned her back to him. He wound his way through the dancers. Freida and Thomas were standing by the food table, enjoying a glass of punch.
“Jedidiah,” she said. “I haven’t seen you dance much tonight. Is something wrong?”
I’m afraid that if I hold your niece, I might not want to let go, and that scares the hell out of me. He shook his head. “No. I came to tell you that Bella and I are leaving now, Freida.”
She studied him. “There’s at least another hour of dancing, Jedidiah.”
“I know. But I don’t want to leave the Sheriff’s office empty too long.” It was an excuse she’d believe.
Thomas stepped forward. “Freida and I can see Bella home safely if you need to get back to work.”
It was another opportunity to rid himself of Bella Wainwright. But he hadn’t yet apologized. “You two stay and enjoy the dance. Good night.”
He walked to the door. Bella already had her cloak on and it was buttoned up to her chin. She waited while he put his coat on and then she walked out of Stonemark Hall without a word to him.
“It’ll take me a minute to go get the team,” he said. “You might want to wait inside.”
She didn’t answer.
The fool woman. It was much colder now than when they’d arrived and the wind had picked up, too. If he hadn’t done his duty by dancing with her, he was surely not doing his duty now. “Please, will you wait inside?” he asked.
She stared at him.
Christ. She was the most stubborn woman. He turned and headed for his rig.
Bella counted to ten as she watched Jedidiah walk away. The man drove her crazy. He’d practically goaded her into coming to the dance with him but from the minute he’d picked her up at Freida’s, she’d sensed that he was pretty freaked out about the whole thing. He’d hardly spoken to her during dinner.
Ben Stroud had either taken pity on her or he’d been bored with his own date. He’d spent most of dinner
talking to her; unfortunately, it had been about how great he was. Great shot, great hunter, and some bold hints about his prowess as a lover. She’d tuned him out until he started talking about playing cards. He’d bragged about how he’d recently won a large pot from a man reputed to have more money than sense.
As he’d described the man, her throat had closed up and she’d had to force herself to swallow. She was sure, based on how her father had described Toomay, that Stroud was describing the same man. She’d been even more certain when Stroud told her that he’d heard that the man was on his way to Mantosa and that Stroud intended to stick around for a few days so that he could take another large sum off the man’s hands.
Once dinner had ended, when it was clear that Jed didn’t intend to ask her to dance, she’d accepted Stroud’s offer. She didn’t especially want to dance with the man but she hadn’t wanted to pass up the opportunity to get more information. Unfortunately, Stroud had been more interested in sniffing her neck and putting his hand on her butt. Once the dance had ended, she’d made sure she had a partner for every other dance.
The dancing had been fun. Just like it had been when she’d been fifteen and the girls’ gym class had been paired up with the boys’ gym class for the Social Dance curriculum. Then, the boys had held her too tight, or too loose, and they’d stumbled over their feet and counted their steps out loud. Very much like tonight.
She’d enjoyed it. More than she’d imagined she would. Which, according to Jed, made her some kind of dance slut. Fine. She wasn’t here to impress Jedidiah McNeil.
But, she had to admit as she stood there shivering in her cloak and too-thin dress, he had managed to hurt her feelings—which was dumb, considering that she’d be gone in days. Why should she care if he didn’t approve of her? She was a screw up. Everybody knew it. She hadn’t wasted much time over the years in trying to change what they thought.
She heard the door open behind her and heard footsteps. They stopped directly behind her. Thinking it was Freida, she turned.
Saul. She hadn’t seen him inside.
“Hello,” she said.
“I understand that you’re Freida Stroganhaufer’s niece.”
She’d blown her cover. Maybe Jed was right and she should have danced less. She looked down the street but there was no sign of Jed. “Yes, that’s right.”
He leaned close to her face. “I don’t expect to see you in my store again, Miss Stroganhaufer.”
“Wainwright,” she corrected, terribly pleased that she’d remembered her own name. She really didn’t know what the big deal was. He and Aunt Freida sold a few of the same things but mostly different items. “You know competition can be healthy,” she said. Wow. Her economics professor would be so proud.
Saul had evidently not taken economics because the corner of his lip rose in a most unattractive sneer. It appeared that he was on the verge of saying something else when Jed pulled up his carriage. Saul turned and walked away.
“Was that Saul?” Jed asked.
“Yes.”
“What did he want?”
“He wanted me to know that my spying days are over. Can we just go?” she asked. She was freezing.
“Of course.” He got down and offered her a hand to help her up. She took it without a word. Once she was seated, he handed her the blankets. Silently, she covered her legs and wrapped the other around her shoulder, just as she’d done on the ride to town.
“Ready?” he asked.
She nodded.
He sighed. “Bella, I was an ass tonight. I’m sorry.”
Well, hell. She hadn’t expected him to apologize. “It’s fine,” she said. “It really doesn’t matter.”
“It matters,” he said.
Not really. What mattered was that she was a witch who lived a hundred and thirty years in the future. And she needed to stop Toomay from cursing her father and all his generations to come. “Please just take me home,” she said.
Neither spoke on the way. Once he’d pulled into Aunt Freida’s yard, she figured he’d slow down the horses just enough to toss her out of the carriage. Instead, he stopped the carriage, got off, and then turned to help her down. She stood and reached for his extended hand but in the process, her toe caught in the blankets now lumped at her feet and she pitched forward.
He grabbed for her and hauled her up against his chest. It was a bit like stepping off a cliff, hitting a brick wall, and then sliding down it, inch by inch, until her toes touched the ground. She realized what she would have known had she and Jed danced earlier; she was the perfect height to fit right under his chin.
She tilted her head back. “Thanks,” she said, feeling rather foolish. It was so cold that the word came out in a puff of white steam.
“My pleasure,” he said, his voice sounding strained. He had his arms wrapped tight around her and even though they both had coats on, all her important parts were pressed solidly up against all his important parts.
Oh boy. It was probably a good thing they hadn’t danced. The Bump and Grind hadn’t been invented yet. “Uh…Jed.”
He pulled back and with two fingers under her chin, lifted her face. He stared at her. “What, Bella?” he asked. His voice was low, sexy, intimate.
She swallowed hard. He was staring at her mouth. “I…should probably go inside,” she said.
“Probably,” he agreed. He looked very serious. Then he stroked the underside of her chin. His fingers were cold and rough with calluses but his touch was gentle.
Nerve endings, dormant from inactivity, were springing to life. Her breasts tingled. She ached between her legs. “Inside. Yes. Definitely the thing to do,” she added. Her voice wobbled.
“You don’t seem to be the type that always does the right thing, Bella.” he whispered.
Hell, she never did the right thing. “I’m turning over a new leaf,” she protested weakly. She couldn’t even think. How could she act responsibly?
He shook his head. “Not tonight. I’m going to kiss you, Bella.” He bent his head until his lips were just inches from her own. His breath was warm, sweet. He hesitated, as if to give her a chance to say no.
The heck with that. Tomorrow would be soon enough to do the right thing. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him close.
He kissed her hard, his lips warm, his tongue insistent. Probing. Sweeping. She ached with the sudden and intense pleasure. She tasted cherry pie and strong black coffee. She smelled soap and fire. She felt hard muscle and warm skin. She knew determination and need—whether it was his or her own, she wasn’t sure.
When he finally pulled back, they were both panting, the short breaths making quick bursts of steam in the cold night air. He dropped his arms and they hung loosely at his side.
“Oh, my,” she said. Her heart was beating too fast.
“Damn,” he said. He bent over and braced his hands on his thighs and took a deep breath. Then another. Finally, he straightened up. “Bella, I think you should go inside now.”
She didn’t think her legs could carry her that far. The kiss had been explosive. And as crazy as it seemed, it made her forget that she’d ever been kissed by anybody else.
“I think you’re right,” she said. She turned, managed to walk through the door, and quickly shut it behind her. Which, of course, was foolish because it was pitch black inside the cabin. She inched toward the stove where Aunt Freida kept the lantern. She managed to stub her toe—the same one Wymer had stepped on when he’d gotten particularly daring in the middle of a Virginia Reel—and even in the dark, she saw stars.
She found the lantern and got the wick lit. Outside, she heard the soft neigh of a horse. She edged over to the window, lifted the curtain with one finger, and saw that Jed had turned the horses and was leaving.
The cabin was freezing. She held her breath while she got undressed and into her nightgown. Then she crawled under the covers and pulled them up over her head, trying to capture all the warm air.
If there’d be
en anyone to question her, she’d have dismissed the trembling in her legs as pure reaction to that.
She’d have been lying.
She’d never trembled over Bradley. Even when they were having sex, there weren’t that many shaking, quaking moments. But all Jedidiah McNeil had to do was kiss her once and it was like she’d run a marathon.
This was the screw up of all screw ups.
***
When Bella woke up the next morning, every muscle hurt. She stretched and cursed the man who’d invented the damn polka. She threw back the covers and wasn’t a bit surprised to see that the baby toe on her left foot was already turning black and blue.
She’d slept soundly. She hadn’t even woken up when her aunt had come home. Unless, oh my, perhaps Aunt Freida hadn’t come home last night? Was it possible that Thomas Bean had convinced her to go home with him?
No. She dismissed that idea at once. Mrs. Bean would have met the couple at the door and looking at her would not inspire anyone to want to have sex. Bella thought it was amazing that the woman had somehow managed to produce two sons because that meant she’d at least done it twice.
But that didn’t mean that Thomas couldn’t have spent the night cuddled up with Freida in the other room—perhaps testing out to see if they had the what. Trying to be discreet, Bella opened the door and peeked out.
Damn. Freida’s bed was not only empty, she was dressed and already standing at the stove.
“Good morning,” Bella said.
“Morning, dear. Sleep well?”
“Like a log. I didn’t hear you come in.”
“Thomas insisted on staying for the very last dance. Lord, my legs are sore this morning. But it was surely fun. If it’s possible, his brother Earl is even more smitten with you after you took pity on the poor man and danced with him last night. He came over and sat with us and you were all he could talk about. You’re a vision, you know that, don’t you?”
“Excellent,” Bella said, smiling at her aunt. “If he could only see me now.” She pointed at her hair which always looked big and scary in the mornings. “I’m going to get some clothes on, take care of some business outside, and then we can get an early start to the store.”
