by Mary Burton
Immediately, she ran across the yard toward the house, her flimsy gown billowing in the night. Quickly, she looked in on the boys. Certain they were fine, she closed the front door and stood guard.
Tense minutes passed. Finally, Mr. Barrington strode out of the dark toward the porch. He’d already figured out she wasn’t in the barn.
He holstered his gun as he approached. “Stay put. What part of those words don’t you understand?”
The bunched muscles in her back relaxed at the sound of his voice. “I was protecting the boys.”
He glanced at the pitchfork. “Next time, get the gun.”
She’d forgotten all about the gun. She felt foolish. “It was too dark.”
“Lesson number one. Never come outside at night without it. Keep it under your pillow if you must. If it’s not a stranger it could just as easily be a bear.”
A bear. She’d seen a bear in the circus once. It looked soft and furry. “Was it a bear?”
“I think so.” The dark made his features unreadable, but anger singed his words.
“Do they come this close often?”
He glanced toward the moonlit horizon, his face hard. “Often enough.”
“I saw a bear in a carnival once. It looked friendly enough. It wore a red vest and a laced collar.”
He looked at her as if she’d gone daft. “They can tear you to shreds with one swipe of their claws.”
“Oh.”
He tapped his finger against his gun handle. He reached past her for the lantern that hung by the front door. Pulling a match from his pocket he lit it.
“Maybe it won’t come back.”
“It will.”
“How can you be sure?”
“When an animal comes this close to a homestead, it’s grown bold. I start corralling the horses tomorrow, and I don’t like the idea of a bear this close to the homestead.” Buttery, warm light had Abby squinting until her eyes adjusted. Mr. Barrington held up the lantern and studied the ground.
“You’re not going after it tonight, are you?” she asked.
“No, it’s too dark, but I wanted to see if there were any tracks in the yard.” He turned and moved off the porch toward the barn and stopped.
Abby followed him. “What are we looking for?”
He knelt and pressed his fingertips into a large indentation of a claw in the dirt. “Tracks.”
Her hair fell forward as she held up her lantern and leaned forward to study the dirt. “How can you tell much? I mean, it could be another animal.”
He gently touched the imprint burrowed in the dirt. “It’s a bear. A male, judging by the size of the foot.”
“Oh.”
“He favors a paw. If he’s injured he’ll be more dangerous.”
“Good Lord, you can tell that by just one track?”
“Yes.”
“Can you tell what color it is?” she asked flippantly.
He glared up at her.
She shrugged and pretended to stare harder at the dirt. “It looks like just dirt to me.”
He shoved his fingers through his hair. “I won’t be able to get a true read on these tracks until morning. Then I can follow it and find out where it came from.”
“Who taught you all this?”
He rose, his gaze aimed toward the distant horizon. “An Indian tracker for the army.”
Yet another facet to a man she knew so little about. “You’ve certainly had a checkered career.” Nervous laughter bubbled inside her. “To be honest it’s all I can do to follow street signs with a map.”
A half smile curved his lips as he turned.
However, all traces of humor vanished when he faced her. The glow of the lantern accented the hard planes of his face. His shirt was open and the thick mat of hair curled on his broad chest. His eyes darkened with an earthy intensity that had her flesh puckering into gooseflesh. The air between them sizzled.
Her nipples hardened and her breathing grew shallow. “Is something the matter?” she said, her voice little more than a hoarse whisper.
Silent, his gaze moved leisurely and boldly up her body. “Your lantern.”
Self-conscious, she raised her lantern. “What about my lantern?”
“Its light makes your gown transparent.”
Matthias could not lift his gaze from the near-naked swell of Abby’s breasts. His mouth watered as he stared at the threadbare nightgown that molded to her full, taut breasts and nipples.
He flexed his fingers, praying for the strength to walk away. None came.
Slowly, he lifted his gaze to hers, half hoping to see shock or outrage in her green eyes. Anything to jolt him out of this raw lust pulsing in his veins.
What he found was desire, albeit hesitant and untried, in her green eyes. She moistened her lips. Dear Lord, she truly looked as if she wanted him as much as he wanted her.
His erection throbbed. Sanity vanished.
Matthias took the lantern from Abby and blew it out. Then in one swift move, he wrapped his arms around her narrow waist. She came willingly, encircling her arms around his neck. Her breasts strained against the fabric and pressed against his chest.
Her long hair, a rich waterfall of curls, teased the top of her waist as she tipped her head back. Her lips parted.
Matthias kissed Abby on the mouth. Her lips opened and his tongue slid into the warm, wet depth of her mouth. A soft moan rumbled in her chest, and she rubbed her flat belly against him.
He tightened his grip, threading his fingers into the silken mass of her hair. Her desire fanned his and before he thought too much, he backed her up several paces and had pressed her against the side of the barn. His legs braced apart, her thigh pressed seductively over his hardness.
Abby tipped back her head and he kissed the soft hollow of her neck. Her pulse hammered under her tender skin. Her blood raced like his.
Matthias’s hand slid down her firm thigh. He grabbed a handful of her nightgown and yanked it up until his hand touched bare skin. He squeezed her naked buttocks. She arched, her fingers biting into his back.
He kissed the center of her collarbone, then moved south to the top of her right breast. Hindered by the fabric, he sucked her nipple through the nightgown until it hardened into a peak.
Breathless, he lifted his gaze to hers. Her eyes were half open and her gaze shrouded by the dewy haze of passion. Months of pent-up desire exploded. Consequences be damned. He’d have her now.
“Inside the barn,” he said, his voice as rough as the jagged rock of the distant mountain peaks.
She moistened her lips again, nodding. “Yes.”
He gave her buttocks one last squeeze then shoved open the barn door. “There’s a fresh bale of hay in the corner.”
She followed him to the sweet earthy hay and lay down on her back. Leaning back on her elbows, she stared up at him. Her gown was hiked up past her knees. The top four buttons were unfastened, creating a low V between her breasts. The creamy mounds created a seductive cleavage.
Matthias fell to the straw. Grabbing her behind the knees, he yanked her to him before he positioned his body between her legs. Cupping her right breast with one hand he cradled her neck with the other. He kissed her again, devouring the taste of her. Her hands eased under his shirt up his back.
Matthias lost track of time. He didn’t know how long he kissed her, fondled her, but by the time he rose and reached for his belt buckle, his blood boiled with desire.
He unfastened the buckle and then the top three buttons. He ached for release.
Abby lowered her gaze to his pants, staring expectantly. She’d never seen a fully naked man before but in truth nothing felt more right or natural. Soon, she would understand what the women in the kitchens talked brazenly about, what they all craved so much, what Douglas had just begun to inspire in her.
The throbbing in her body was like nothing she’d ever known. She could feel her own dampness and though she didn’t understand it, knew it was right. With only n
ature and meager experience as her guide, she slid her hand down his flat belly. He hissed in a breath. He wanted her. And she marveled at the power of her womanhood.
Matthias reached inside his pants and pulled it out. For a moment she could only stare in shock and wonder. Though she understood the logic of what was about to happen, in truth she couldn’t imagine how it was going to fit.
Matthias pushed up her nightgown. He draped his body over hers, only this time the tip of his manhood pressed against her soft, moist opening.
Deep in her heart, she understood that once they joined, they would in some way be bonded forever. There would be no going back for Abby.
This moment was nothing like she’d ever imagined, and yet it was better. There were no soft words or poetry, only a raw need. But she needed something from him. She wasn’t naive enough to expect words of love, but she needed to know it was her he was making love to.
She stroked the hard muscles of his buttocks. “Say my name,” she whispered, her voice so husky she barely recognized it.
The lust in his veins had stolen his voice, his ability to speak in clear sentences. He pressed his arousal against her opening, poised to thrust.
She wriggled, so that he fell away from her opening. “Say my name.”
The corded muscles in his neck strained as he repositioned himself. Sweat dampened his brow. Closing his eyes, he began to push inside her.
Her body wanted to feel him inside her. Her heart needed to her him say her name.
He pushed inside her. She felt the searing pain as her maidenhood tore, and all reasonable thoughts vanished. Her entire body tensed. He paused, realizing what he’d taken from her.
He began to move inside of her, his movements slow at first but quickly building to a fever pitch.
Raw need pulsed inside her.
Dear Lord, what was he doing to her? Sweat formed between her breasts.
“Wrap your legs around me,” he whispered.
She complied, taking him inside her fully. Her body stretched and molded around him. She didn’t think she could feel more alive. Then he reached for her moist center and began to stroke.
She hissed in a breath. “What are you doing to me?”
“Shh, it’s all right.” He continued to stroke, circling her softness with expert precision. The fever inside of her grew. Her senses reeled. She teetered at the cliff of an unknown abyss.
And then, in a flash, her body exploded in sensations. She moaned and arched her back, letting the ripples wash over her body.
Mr. Barrington withdrew his hand and began to pump harder. And in the next instant, his body tensed and as he found his release, he moaned. “Elise.”
Matthias knew his blunder the instant he’d whispered Elise’s name. A bucket of cold water couldn’t have made Abby’s languid body tense faster. She went rigid.
She pressed her palms against his chest. “Get off me.”
Her voice seemed to come from a very far-off place though her lips were just by his ears.
But as he felt her struggles underneath him grow in strength he forced himself to roll off her.
Immediately, she scrambled out from under him and tugged her nightgown over her legs, now tucked under her. “You called me Elise.”
Lying on his back, he stared up at the barn’s rafters. “It was an accident.”
Tears burned her eyes. “Some accident.”
He stabbed his hands through his hair. “It’s been six years since there’s been another woman.”
Her long hair cascaded over her shoulder draping breasts he’d just suckled. “You don’t want me. You wanted to use my body.”
Though Abby’s body felt nothing like Elise’s, he couldn’t deny her words. A part of him had wanted to resurrect his old love. He tugged up his pants and fastened the four buttons. “I’m sorry.”
Unshed tears glistened in her eyes. “I thought for just a few moments it was just you and me. I was wrong.”
He shoved impatient fingers through his thick hair. “I’m sorry.”
Slowly, she rose. Moonlight cascaded on her gown. That’s when he noticed the streaks of blood. Earlier, he’d felt her tightness, but his befuddled mind hadn’t fully processed the consequences. Now the full weight of his mistake sank in.
She lifted her head high, like a proud warrior goddess. “You win. You were right. I don’t belong here.”
Abby started to move past him. He sprang to his feet and grabbed her arm. She looked up with eyes filled with sorrow and shame.
“It’s not that simple anymore,” he said. Even now, touching her sent desire ricocheting through him.
She jerked her arm free of his hold. “It is for me, Mr. Barrington.”
“I think you should call me Matthias now.”
“I’d rather not.” Her prickly tone reminded him of the first time he’d seen her in the stage—Society Miss.
He stared at the trail of blood on her gown. “I’m sorry.”
She followed his gaze. Her cheeks flamed red, and she covered the fresh spots of blood with her hand.
“I thought you’d been with another man,” he said, his voice hoarse. “You said your reputation was ruined.”
“One does not have to be guilty to be convicted.”
He rubbed the back of his neck, now tight with tension. “I’m sorry.”
She tipped back her head as a tear streamed down her cheek. “Stop saying that.” She started toward the door.
He grabbed her wrist. “Like it or not, we are bound together now.”
“Nothing binds us except business. I’ll stay to the end of the summer or until you can arrange to find someone to take care of the boys.”
He ground his teeth. She wasn’t going anywhere. “You could be pregnant.”
Shock widened her eyes. Her hands flew to her flat belly. For an instant joy flashed in her eyes. “That’s not possible. It was only one time.”
“Once is sufficient,” he said more tersely than he’d intended. “Take my word for it, there could be a baby.”
She shook her head. “There isn’t. I’d know if there was.”
“How the hell would you know? Do you have the second sight?”
She lifted her chin, again the proud city woman. “I just would know.” Wouldn’t she?
Annoyed, he ground his teeth. “Well, I’m glad you’re so all-knowing but you’ll have to excuse me for being a little slower.”
The menace in his voice triggered alarm bells in her. “What are you talking about?”
“Until I know for certain you aren’t pregnant, you’re not going anywhere.”
“I can take care of myself. And my baby if need be.”
His temper held on by a thread. He needed time to think and more time to fix this mess he’d created. “No other man is ever going to raise my child. I take care of my own. You’re not leaving this ranch until I know for certain that you’re not carrying a child.”
“You said you didn’t want any more children!”
“I don’t. But I’ll stand by any I make.”
Her eyes looked wild, desperate. And it tore at him that he’d robbed the sparkle from her eyes.
“You can’t keep me here,” she said.
His resolve, like forged iron, was unbreakable. “Watch me.”
Chapter Twelve
He’d called her Elise!
Still hurt two days later, she stared out the kitchen window watching the boys who were poking a stick in a rabbit hole. She enjoyed the boys and had been growing to love them as her own. But since that night in the barn she’d realized she had been fooling herself. They weren’t her children and never would be. They belonged to Elise. Just as everything else in this blasted cabin belonged to her.
Abby sighed as she ran a soapy washcloth over a tin plate. She had only herself to blame for this mess. Mr. Barrington had been clear about his feelings from the start. He had said he had loved his first wife with all his heart. He had said he didn’t have room in his heart f
or love. But she’d thought if she worked hard enough, hoped hard enough, she could make everything come together. She thought she could change him. How wrong she’d been.
She’d been such a fool.
Tears glistened in her eyes and she tilted her head back so that they wouldn’t spill.
She and Mr. Barrington had barely spoken since that night. He’d left at first light the next morning, determined to track the bear and begin rounding up the horses. He’d told her it could take a day or two before he returned. Reminding her to keep the rifle close, he’d left.
She rinsed the dish and laid it on a drying towel by the sink.
The one ray of hope to rise from this disaster was the possibility of a baby. She imagined cradling the child close, savoring the soft scents of milk. Her baby. She tried to imagine what their child would look like. Likely black hair like Mr. Barrington and the boys. Fair skin.
Someone to love her.
Abby gave herself a mental shake. A baby would also complicate things far too much. A baby would bind her to a man who could never love her. She’d not come looking for love but she realized how much she wanted it now.
She quickly finished the dishes and turned her attention to the rising bowls of dough on the counter. She had two loaves cooling, two baking and three more to set up. Holden’s first coach full of passengers was due sometime today, and she wanted to be ready for him. A thick stew simmered on the stove, and she’d made cheese and butter yesterday.
Abby thought about the hard cash she’d earn today. How much would she make and how long would it be before she could buy a train ticket out of Montana?
“Abby,” Quinn shouted from the door. “The stage is coming.”
Abby glanced out the window. Realizing she still had a few minutes, she quickly shaped the rising dough into loaves and laid them on the rising board. She covered the dough with a tea cloth and wiped her hands on her apron.
She gave the cabin a quick glance to make certain everything was in place. She’d pressed and ironed her grandmother’s tablecloth and set it with the mismatched selection of flatware that Mr. Barrington owned. A chipped mug filled with wild-flowers adorned the center of the table.
