Gideon's Bride

by Amelia Autin

  “Rennie...” His arms enfolded her, pulling her onto his lap, and his mouth descended for a reverent kiss that left no doubt in her mind. But he wasn’t finished. “Does this feel like pity?” he whispered as he claimed her mouth again. Lips clung and withdrew, tongues touching, then dancing aside. He raised his head a fraction of an inch and groaned, “Rennie, I love you.”

  She melted into his embrace, a believer at last. For the briefest of seconds a tiny voice whispered in her mind that she didn’t deserve to be this happy, but she refused to listen. She loved and was loved, and nothing else mattered.

  Her head found its home in the hollow between his neck and shoulder, and she let herself revel in the rapid thud of Gideon’s heart, the snugness of his arms encircling her, as if he couldn’t bear to let her go.

  “When did you know you loved me?” she asked eventually, a lover’s natural curiosity coming to the fore.

  “Last night. Or rather,” he amended, “I finally let myself admit it last night. I think I must have loved you ever since I saw you on that ledge with Nicki, so scared and so determined not to let it show. Or maybe it was even earlier. I don’t know.” He was silent for a moment. “And you?”

  “I think it was the night we were stranded on the mountain,” she confessed. “But I couldn’t admit it, either.”

  “Why do you think it took us so long?”

  “Maybe we weren’t ready to hear it.”

  “Yeah, maybe you’re right.” He rested his cheek against the top of her head. “But I’m ready to hear it now.”

  She smiled softly. “I love you, Gideon.”

  How long they sat there after that, Rennie neither knew nor cared. The sun advanced in the sky, chasing away the last of the early morning shadows. From a dreamy distance she heard a telephone ringing, but she ignored it. Finally it ceased.

  But a minute later the front screen door opened with a hesitant squeak, and footsteps skittered across the porch. “Rennie, it’s the phone for you.”

  Gideon released her reluctantly, stealing one last kiss to tide him over, then one more after that before they both turned to face Trina.

  “Who is it?” Rennie asked.

  “Aunt Emily.”

  “I wonder what she wants,” she murmured to herself as she stood up.

  “She’s probably calling about tonight.” At Rennie’s questioning look, he added, “I stopped in town and called her. I wanted some time alone with you, so I asked her if she’d take the children just for tonight.”

  “Oh.” Rennie’s slow smile was breathtaking. Gideon had planned for them to be alone together! “What did she say?”

  “She said yes.”

  * * *

  That afternoon Rennie put Andrew down for his nap, then just stood and watched him sleep for a few minutes. Love welled up in her at the sight of him, so like Gideon. He slept the same way, too, with a sort of reckless abandon. She saw the years spreading out in front of her, years of watching Andrew grow into the man his father was. And she saw herself as his mother, holding him, loving him, guiding him, and someday letting him go as all mothers must. He was Johanna’s child, but he was hers, too.

  In that moment she let go of the grief she’d denied for so long. She would always regret the loss of the children she’d never bear. That sorrow would reside in its own private corner of her heart all her life. But the sharpness of the pain would fade over time. She knew that now. She had the life she’d dreamed of all those years ago, maybe not quite as she’d envisioned, but then again she herself was different from the girl who’d dreamed those dreams.

  We all change, Rennie thought. We all adapt. And we all compromise. Life is never exactly as we plan. We just do the best we can with what we have and try to build a life for ourselves rich in love and loving. That’s what Gram tried to teach me, only I was too young to understand.

  I have so much—Gideon’s love, Gideon’s children. It’s enough for one lifetime.

  A movement out of the corner of her eye made her turn. Nicki stood in the bedroom doorway, watching her watch Andrew. Rennie motioned for silence, then glided quietly from the room, closing the door behind her.

  “Did you need something, Nicki?”

  The girl shook her head slightly, but there was something in her expression—wistfulness? sadness?—that made Rennie put her arm around Nicki for a quick hug.

  “Then would you like to help me make some brownies? Your dad really liked those mint ones I made last time, so I thought I’d make them again. Trina is coloring, so it’ll just be you and me.”

  Nicki nodded and smiled up at her, and Rennie said, “Come on, then.” Arm in arm they moved to the kitchen.

  It wasn’t until after the brownies were baking that Nicki broached the subject that was on her mind. The pen and paper that were her only means of communication were brought out again, and once more Rennie vowed to herself to find some way to break down the silence barrier.

  Nicki wrote quickly, then pushed the pad toward Rennie. You really love Andrew, don’t you?

  “Um-hm. Very much.”

  And Trina?

  “Yes.”

  Nicki scribbled something, then hesitated before showing it to her. And me? Do you really love me?

  Rennie nodded. “Yes, Nicki. I really do,” she said softly. “I hope someday you’ll believe that.”

  Nicki’s brow furrowed and she bit the end of the pen, then wrote, Would you still love me if I did something really bad?

  Rennie raised her eyes from the paper. Nicki was watching her anxiously. “Of course, Nicki,” she said, reaching over to clasp the girl’s hand. “I would love you no matter what you did. And so would your dad. It might make us sad, but we would never stop loving you.”

  Despite the sincerity in Rennie’s voice, Nicki didn’t look convinced. What about my Mama? Would she still love me?

  “Oh, sweetie, of course she would. There’s nothing you could do that was so bad your mother couldn’t forgive you.” Rennie felt herself on the verge of discovery. There was something here that she couldn’t quite put her finger on, something terrible, in Nicki’s mind at least, behind all these questions. She held her breath, hoping against hope that Nicki’s next question would reveal something more.

  Nicki sat lost in thought for a while. Finally she pulled the pad of paper back and wrote, then turned it for Rennie to see. I’m sorry I made you cry last night.

  “You didn’t, sweetie. It was me. Just something I had to deal with. I didn’t know it would hurt so much to be reminded about never having children of my own.” She smiled reassuringly. “But I’m okay now. Really I am. Please don’t worry about me.”

  Nicki’s hand was still for a moment, then she wrote, Is that why you love us? Because you can’t have children of your own?

  “That’s part of it,” she admitted, refusing the temptation to hedge the truth. “And part of it is because I love your father so much and you’re his children. But Nicki—” she squeezed the girl’s hand “—every day I love you more and more because of who you are, inside.”

  The timer on the oven buzzed. Rennie leaned over and kissed Nicki’s cheek before rising. She took out the brownies and set them on the counter to cool. She sniffed appreciatively.

  “Don’t those smell good?” She flashed Nicki a smile, and the girl nodded eagerly. “Your father’s going to love them.”

  The chocolaty aroma brought Trina running. “Mmmm! Brownies! Can I have one?”

  Rennie shook her head. “Not this time. These are for tonight.” She pulled down the cookie jar. “But you can have some of the peanut butter cookies we made yesterday.”

  Trina pouted, but only for a minute, and Rennie almost laughed at how eagerly she reached for the cookie jar. Soon both girls were sitting at the table, munching happily and sipping at the milk Rennie had given them. Rennie began the topping for the brownies.

  “Guess what.” she said absently, frowning over the recipe, then measuring in the peppermint extract. “A
unt Emily has invited you to sleep over tonight at her house. She’s going to rent that new video you were asking about last week and let you stay up late to watch it. Doesn’t that sound like fun?”

  The silence that greeted her words made her swing around. The apprehensive look on both faces wiped the smile from Rennie’s. She dropped the mixing spoon. “Sweeties, what’s wrong?”

  Tears trembled in Trina’s eyes. “Will you be here when we get back?”

  Then Rennie understood. To both girls, and probably Andrew as well, staying with Emily was equated with loss—their mother, all the housekeepers, even their father. Why hadn’t she and Gideon thought of that?

  She moved to the table and crouched by Trina’s chair. “Do you want me to be here?” Trina nodded. Rennie turned and asked the same question of Nicki, who hesitated only a second before nodding also. “I’m never going to leave you,” she said huskily. “Never. And when you get back, I’ll be right here, waiting for you. You’ll see.”

  “Promise?” Trina threw her arms around Rennie’s neck and Nicki followed suit. She hugged them close.

  “I promise.”

  * * *

  That evening Rennie and Gideon stood arm in arm by the front porch, waving and watching the taillights of Emily’s station wagon recede from view. When they finally disappeared, he turned to her, pulling her fully into the circle of his arms.

  “Alone at last,” he said with a playful growl.

  She laughed a little. “I miss them already.”

  “Then we’ll just have to see what we can do to take your mind off them.” He waggled his eyebrows at her.

  “Oh?” She drew that question out and arched a brow at him. “What did you have in mind, cowboy?”

  This time he laughed. “It’s been so long since I’ve had a night free like this, I’m not sure. We could go into Sheridan, take in a movie, or check out the bars for a live band and do a little foot-stomping. It’s up to you.”

  Rennie glided one finger down the side of his face and smiled at the shiver that ran through his body. “I’d rather just stay home.”

  So would he, but she deserved to be romanced. “Is that what you really want?” he asked softly.

  “More than anything.”

  “Me, too.”

  Their lips met briefly, then he swung her into his arms and carried her inside.

  Chapter 15

  The house was unnaturally silent without the children. Rennie was almost tempted to whisper, it was so quiet.

  “You can put me down now,” she told Gideon.

  “Not a chance, Mrs. Lowell. I’m carrying you over the threshold.”

  “You already did.”

  “Uh-uh. The front door doesn’t count.” He flicked off the light in the living room with his elbow. “It’s the bedroom door that matters.”

  “Is that so?”

  “Um-hm.”

  “How come I never heard that one before?”

  His teeth flashed white in the semidarkness as he carried her down the hall. “You’ve been living in California too long.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “You had to come all the way to Wyoming to find a man, didn’t you?”

  She gasped, then laughed. “I think you just slandered an entire state.”

  He shouldered open the door to their bedroom. “Yeah, well, let ‘em sue me.” He put her down carefully, then cupped her cheek and turned her face upward for his kiss. Long seconds later, he whispered seriously, “I’m just glad you came here, whatever the reason.”

  “There are millions of men in California,” she whispered back. “Good men. Real men. But none of them were you.”

  Irresistibly drawn, their lips met again in a kiss that left both of them breathless and hungry for each other. Gideon broke away first.

  “Damn.” He adjusted the fit of his jeans. “I wasn’t going to start anything just yet.” His gaze was tender, rueful. “But when I’m around you I don’t think. I feel. And you feel too damn good in my arms.”

  “That’s the nicest compliment you’ve ever given me.” Rennie moved to embrace him, but he backed off.

  “I need a shower,” he said.

  “You always say that,” she teased gently, sliding her arms around his waist despite his halfhearted attempt to elude her.

  “Because it’s true.”

  She buried her face against his shoulder and breathed deeply. “You smell the way a man should at the end of the day,” she said dreamily. “I like it.”

  He chuckled. “I smell like horses and sheep.”

  “With a touch of leather and soap thrown in.”

  “I’d prefer a touch more soap and a lot less of all the rest. Come on. I’ll let you scrub my back.”

  She tossed her head. “Oh, now I get it. You just want me along to do all the work.”

  “I have to save my strength.” He nipped at her lower lip. “For later.” His hand closed around hers and he would have led her into the bathroom, but she pulled back as she remembered something.

  “Wait. I have an idea.” At his quizzical look she gave him a slow, seductive smile that started smoldering fires burning inside him. “Trust me. You’ll love it.” She touched the base of his throat exposed by his open cotton work shirt, then slid her fingers slowly down to his belt buckle. “Stay here.”

  She left him standing in the middle of the room, and he watched as she went to the dresser, pulling something out of one of the drawers, shielding it from view with her body. She closed the bathroom door, and he heard the water running in the tub for what seemed like a long time. The water finally stopped and the door opened.

  Rennie stood in the doorway. Her dark curls were artlessly tousled, making him think of mornings after, and she was wearing the peignoir from their honeymoon and nothing else.

  The smoldering fires she’d ignited earlier burst into flames. The peignoir hid nothing. It enhanced. It clung to her slender form at breast, hip and thigh the way his hands wanted to do. She looked soft and sexy and so damned beautiful his body reacted with a surge of desire that had him shaking.

  She walked toward him. Walked? No, what she was doing couldn’t be called anything as mundane as walking. She sauntered, the filmy fabric of her robe floating around her. When she finally reached him, she tilted her head and gave him a saucy, sexy smile.

  “You look like you could use a bath, cowboy.” She slowly unbuttoned his shirt all the way down and pulled it out of his jeans.

  “Yeah.” Was that his voice, that strangled sound?

  She slipped the shirt off and let it fall to the floor. Her fingers played over his bare chest, teasing, tormenting, working their way downward. “We’ve got two kinds of baths in this hotel,” she drawled, unbuckling his belt and drawing it out of the belt loops, taking her sweet time about it. “A regular bath is seventy-five cents.” The belt dropped from her hands. “A French bath is two dollars.”

  The connection clicked, and a hint of a smile played over his lips. His right hand slid into his jeans pocket and came out empty. So did his left one. “Sorry, ma’am,” he said with a woeful expression. “I’d purely love one of those French baths you’re offerin’, but I’m flat broke.”

  She stepped back and eyed him up and down. “Are you good for it?”

  “Oh, I’m good for it, ma’am,” he said, the glint in his eyes leaving no doubt as to the double meaning intended.

  Her response was a throaty laugh that sent fire surging through his veins. Then slender fingers grazed his fly and his already uncomfortable jeans grew impossibly tight.

  “Rennie...”

  When she popped open the top button of his jeans he thought the rest of the buttons would pop open as well. And when she rubbed her knuckles back and forth against the hardness beneath the soft denim, he learned a whole new definition for the word ache.

  Just when he thought he couldn’t take any more, she swirled away in a froth of fabric and lace and sauntered toward the bathroom, tossi
ng him a come-hither look over her shoulder that sizzled his toes.

  “Why don’t you come on back, cowboy.”

  She never made it to the door. Gideon caught her before she took another step, lifting her high in his arms. She squealed in surprise.

  “What are you doing? This isn’t the way it goes.”

  “You have your fantasies,” he told her with a wolfish smile. “I have mine.”

  He caught her mouth with his, capturing and conquering her tongue, drawing the willing prisoner into the moist cavern of his mouth. She twined her arms around his neck and gave herself up to his kiss.

  He carried her into the bathroom, maneuvering through the door with difficulty because he refused to release her passionate mouth. Then he lowered her slowly, letting her body slide down his. They stood there for an endless moment, wrapped in each other’s arms, caught up in the fantasy, surrounded by their love.

  When he finally let her go she swayed, unable to stand on her own. She leaned toward him, steadying herself against the hard planes of his body. Her scantily covered bosom rose and fell, the soft swells of her breasts tormenting him as they brushed his chest with each breath.

  Eventually she regained enough control to continue. Her hands glided down to the front of his jeans, and fumbled just a bit as she unbuttoned the remaining buttons on his fly. Gideon thought he’d die of frustration by the time she got them all undone, but he wasn’t about to interfere.

  She slid urgent hands inside the waistbands of both jeans and briefs and began skimming them off together. That’s when he stopped her.

  “I’d better take my boots off first, don’t you think?”

  She laughed softly. “I guess I’m not that good at this.” With obvious regret she removed her hands, but not until they’d stolen one last caress.

  He braced himself against the doorframe and pulled off his boots in record time, tossing them into the bedroom. “You’re better than you think,” he said as he stripped off his clothes, then straightened to his full height. Her admiring gaze affected him like a physical touch, and his body responded wildly. “But now it’s my turn.”