She interrupted him. “How many hours a day do you and Frank spend in there? And how far down do you have to go?” She raised a hand to his face and stroked a finger along his cheek, coming up with a smudge of grime. “You were clean when we went in.”
“You sure you’re all right?”
“Yes. I’m fine.” She rubbed her skin and held up her thumb to inspect the traces of dirt. “You breathe this in, day after day?”
“We never go in without bandanas over our faces. All my men are on one-hour shifts. Travel down, spend an hour digging or loading. Back to the surface, rest some before going back down. It’s why our shifts are so long. Enough time to breathe clean air, get plenty to drink, eat something, wash off the worst of the ore dust, and then go back in.” He chucked her under the chin. “Nothing to worry about, Retta. My men only work about seven hours total a day, all told.”
Though she chafed at being treated like a tot Addie’s age, Retta’s respect for her husband’s dedication to the wellbeing of his men outdistanced her impatience at his attempt to humor her. “Not all mine owners are like you,” she guessed. When she met his honest, open gaze, she knew it for truth.
“No. They’re not. Which is why my men work hard for me. I pay them well, give them a percentage of ownership in the smaller mines as long as the shaft produces enough. When I read of the pitfalls of working long, torturous hours in the California gold mines, I figured silver mining couldn’t be much better. So I planned accordingly. I would never work any man nor beast to death just to pull minerals from the earth.”
Impulsively, she slipped her arms around his waist and gave him a squeeze, sighing when she felt his answering embrace. “My husband is a very good man,” she whispered against his neck.
“A man is only as good as the woman at his side.” He held her close, and right in front of the mine where his men could see, Harrison kissed her.
Dimly, Retta registered a few whistles, a hoot or two, raspy laughter. And found it didn’t bother her a single bit.
~ ~ ~
Addie spent the afternoon playing with Noodle. Harrison reckoned the odd name fit, especially when the floppy mutt slid over the floor, tiny nails scrabbling for purchase on the freshly beeswaxed surface, ending up in a heap of legs and paws against the hooked rug in the front room. With Addie screeching in joy at the pup’s silly antics, and occupied for now, Harrison sauntered into the kitchen where Retta pared potatoes for stew.
Yep, he was growing right fond of his wife. Besides being easy on the eyes, she was sweet as spun sugar, a wonderful mother, and a damn good cook. Maybe he’d swipe one of the biscuits he’d spotted cooling on the table, before stealing a kiss.
Harrison managed the kiss first, but she smacked his hand before he could snatch a biscuit. He grabbed her around the waist and pressed himself to her backside, enjoying its rounded softness as she tried—none too strenuously, he noticed—to push him away.
His cock swelled, prodding into the curve of her back. Harrison had soon learned what pleased his bashful bride. What parts of her body were ticklish, and what parts liked to be stroked and kissed. Each night, she’d generously returned the favor. Her innocent enthusiasm had overcome any lack of experience.
But his patience was growing short, and he needed more of her. All of her. It was time Retta learned how a real man loved on a woman. With tenderness and care, her satisfaction always coming first. Always.
“You’ll spoil your dinner,” she scolded, laughing softly.
Tonight, I’ll make her mine. A pang of guilt hit him when he thought of Jenny and the life they should have had. But this is what Jenny wants, he reminded himself.
Harrison pushed aside the unwanted emotion, focusing on the here and now. He buried his lips in her silky hair, gathered at her nape. “My dinner won’t be spoiled if I nibble on you.” He ran his tongue up the side of her neck and felt her tremble.
“Addie—”
“Is playing with Noodle. Silly name for a hound,” he grumbled against her shoulder. Slipping his hand from her waist to her breast, Harrison groaned at the firmness he palmed. “I’m not hungry right now, Retta. At least not for food.”
“Well, you’re not getting anything else, Mister Carter, certainly not in the middle of the afternoon with our child running about.” Even as she admonished him breathlessly, Retta crowded closer, resting her head on his shoulder and leaving her throat vulnerable to his mouth. Harrison gladly obliged, scattering more kisses over her soft skin and marveling at how she’d opened up like a flower to his affection.
As he turned her, determined to press every inch of her loveliness against his throbbing cock, Addie tore through the kitchen, with Noodle hot on her heels. High-pitched yips and squeals filled the air as pup and child rounded the table twice, then three times.
Moaning, Retta dropped her forehead against his chest. “Good Lord.”
Harrison muffled his laugh in her hair. “Could be worse, you know. Frank might still take it upon himself to toss a kitten into the midst.”
She slapped a hand over his mouth. “Don’t even think it, much less say it.”
He nipped at her palm before moving it aside. “I need to take care of a few things in my study—”
“You have a study?” Curiosity lit her sweet face.
“I do. Kind of a glorified office.” He rubbed his nose against hers. “Want to see it?”
“Can I?”
“Sure.”
Addie came running over, giggling, carrying Noodle in her arms like a baby. The inseparable pair had been playing together all afternoon.
Retta ruffled the top of her daughter’s head. “It’s time for Addie’s nap. Let me lay her down first.”
“Hungwy.” Letting the puppy slide out of her grip, Addie eyed the biscuits. Then she looked over to Harrison as if sizing him up.
“Such feminine wiles.” He chuckled. “Ask your mother.”
“Mama,” Addie beseeched. “Pease?”
“Yes, you may have one. Then it’s off to bed.”
Addie made a beeline for the pile of golden biscuits, Noodle bumping into the backs of her legs in his attempt to shadow her every move.
After the little tyke finished off two biscuits and a glass of milk, Harrison scooped her up and carried her down the hall to her room. Retta tucked her in, the pup curled into a furry ball beside her. Addie’s eyes closed, sound asleep, before they’d made it out of the room. Taking Retta’s hand, Harrison led her to his den. Fishing a key from his pocket, he unlocked the door and ushered her inside.
At her raised eyebrow, he said, “I used to keep the payroll in this room, until the bank was built. Guess I got so used to locking it, I just kept doing it.” He paused at the untidy desk, tucked under the only window. “It’s dusty in here.”
Retta waved a hand in front of her face at the motes flying up from the ledger he poked at. “Calling it dusty might be an understatement, Harrison.” She looked around the room, drawing a finger over the table where he kept his assessing maps and surveying equipment. She held it up, tsking under her breath. “I could clean in here, you know. Goodness knows someone should.”
“I have been slightly distracted lately.” A weak defense at best, but nevertheless the truth.
Retta’s attention was caught by the ledger he had prodded. Silently she picked it up and carried it to the window, holding it to the waning afternoon light. Harrison started to speak, but she lifted a staying hand.
Almost a full minute went by as she stared at the ledger. Finally, she looked up from the numbers he had painstakingly entered two months or so ago. “Harrison, your arithmetic is incorrect.”
“What?” He reached for the ledger, but she held it firmly and indicated the balance column.
“Here”—she pointed—“you subtracted in error.
And here”—she tapped a deposit several lines further down—“you multiplied instead of adding.”
“Where did you learn this?” He had never in his life met a woman who knew the kind of arithmetic required for keeping accounts and balances.
“My Aunt Millie taught both Jenny and me. From as early as I can remember. Aunty was a spinster, a schoolteacher. She went to university. Arithmetic was her special intellect.”
Retta blinked back tears, before she stiffened her spine and offered a smile. “Harrison, I’ve been wondering how I might help you ease your burden at the mines.” She gestured with the ledger. “If you and Frank didn’t have to worry about the books, or the payroll . . . if I could do this for you, would it help?”
He sank onto the nearest chair, a rickety ladderback he should have broken up for firewood years ago. Beautiful and smart. What other secrets did his wife hold?
He glanced around the study. Truth to tell, he hated numbers and balances, accounts and dealing with finances. He did it because Frank was hopeless with sums and could barely add four and six. Of the two bankers currently toiling at Little Creede Commerce, only Elijah Lambert knew his way around keeping fairly accurate bank books. Jenkins, the other banker, Harrison trusted about as far as he could toss him.
In about a minute, Retta had located two errors he had made in the payroll ledger, and Harrison hadn’t a clue if either or both errors were in his favor or not. He scrubbed his hands through his hair until it no doubt stood on end, then held out a hand for the ledger.
No sooner did she pass it to him than he tossed it onto the desk, raising more dust, then snagged her arm and tumbled her into his lap.
“Harrison!” She wriggled to gain her feet, but he held her tighter and nuzzled the hollow of her throat until she stopped struggling and sighed against his shoulder.
“Retta, will you be my man, er, woman of accounts? I pay very well.” He bounced her on his knee, and her tinkling laugh warmed his soul.
“Your woman of accounts, huh? How will you pay me? I already have all I need.” Her eyes twinkled, and she fluttered her lashes.
Damn. He was lost.
With nimble fingers, he unfastened the first four buttons of her blouse and unlaced her chemise, baring her to the tops of her creamy breasts. He nudged away the fabric to reach silky flesh, then sucked one rosy nipple into his mouth, twirling his tongue around the turgid peak. When he cupped her other breast, her pulse jumped against his palm. “I have plans for the way I’ll recompense you, Missus Carter.”
Her breath unsteady, her blouse and chemise hanging loosely, Retta encircled his head with both arms as she held him against her.
Harrison stood, allowing her to slowly slide down his body until her toes touched the floor. Staring into her dazed eyes, he palmed her enticing bottom.
Aligning her soft center to his throbbing length, he rasped in her ear, “I have big plans, in fact.”
Chapter 10
Retta’s heart raced as Harrison swept her up in his arms and strode down the hall and into their bedroom. Given it was the middle of the afternoon, she found herself slightly scandalized at his actions. Her reaction to his touch left her with not a whimper of protest.
I want his hands on me.
Each night her husband introduced her to more delights of the marriage bed, though he’d never pushed beyond her limits. Without asking, he seemed to know what she wanted, and where she wasn’t yet willing to go.
Her one experience left her with doubts, but she couldn’t deny Harrison his right to her body forever. She didn’t want to. The more she learned of this man, the more she wanted to share her life with him. In every way.
Harrison’s easy laughter jerked her from her ponderings as he placed her on top of the covers. “You’re thinking too deeply, Retta.” He unbuckled his holster and belt before sitting on the edge of the bed. “I’d like to make love to my wife.”
Retta’s heart pounded harder when he reached for the ribbon holding back her hair, tugging until silky strands fell in disarray around her shoulders.
He let out a soft breath. “You’re very beautiful.” He cupped her face and tenderly swept his thumb across the curve of her cheek. “I want you badly, but I won’t hurt you. You’ll only know pleasure with me.”
Even as her womanly center stirred at his sensual promise and the determined look in his eyes, she couldn’t help but remember the searing pain when Cal had taken her so roughly. “Wh-What about Addie?”
His lips quirked at her halfhearted attempt to delay what was about to happen. “She’s sleeping, and won’t be awake for at least an hour.” Harrison whispered against her lips, “A lot can happen in an hour, wife. Let me show you.”
Her nod was barely perceptible, as Harrison took her mouth in a possessive kiss. Surrendering, she melted against him.
Sliding his hands under her hair, he held her head still, his lips thoroughly exploring her mouth. The feel of his tongue against hers curled her toes and made her breasts throb. She moaned, barely recognizing the impassioned sound as her own as she clutched him for support. If she let go, surely she’d float away.
Harrison broke the kiss with a groan and a raspy, “Open your eyes, Retta.”
Slowly her lashes lifted, and she found him staring down at her like a hungry wolf. Trepidation fluttered in her belly. Retta wanted him, but there was a part of her that still resisted. Her chest heaving with her panting breaths, she forced that little voice to the back of her mind. This was Harrison. Her husband, and she trusted him.
“Lovely,” he murmured, as he eased her blouse and chemise off completely. “So perfect.” He tugged her up, lowering his head to cover her aching nipple with the heat of his mouth.
Retta arched her back as Harrison nipped the sensitive peak hard enough to sting, before caressing it gently with his tongue. The contrast of both pain and pleasure felt so good, her fingernails dug into his shoulders as he moved to her other breast and drew harder on her nipple, sending a sharp quiver over her. When he released her, she fell back against the mattress, unable to take her eyes off him as he stood and quickly disrobed. Her husband was all male. Handsome and rugged, devastating to her senses.
Her gaze dropped to his engorged penis, glistening wet at the tip, and suddenly she wanted to give him the same satisfaction he’d given her night after night. Yes, she’d used her hands on him, but even with her lack of experience she knew it wasn’t the same.
Rolling off the bed, she fell to her knees before him, taking his thick shaft into her hands, glancing up at his startled face.
“Sweetheart, you don’t have to do that.”
She licked her lips, and glanced back down, wanting to taste him. “Let me. Please.” Tonguing the very tip, she moaned at his musky flavor.
“All right. But we can stop anytime.” His fingers threaded into her hair and he guided her close to his hard flesh. “Open your mouth, Retta.”
Eager to please, Retta opened wide. As the velvety skin brushed her tongue, she took him in, bobbing forward until he hit the back of her throat. She abruptly choked.
“Easy now,” Harrison murmured, tugging her head back slightly. “There’s no rush.”
Eyes watering, Retta managed to catch her breath. But when she looked up, he appeared anything but relaxed. Tension etched his face, and sweat dampened his brow. A delicious surge of feminine power filled her. She, mousy Retta Pierce, soiled dove and town outcast, held this man’s desires in her hands, her mouth. For the first time in her life she knew what it felt like to be a woman in control. And she liked it.
A thrill shot through her heart as she kept her eyes focused on her husband and slowly moved her mouth down the length of him, taking more care this time. The same techniques she’d learned with her hand, she now attempted with her mouth. Using his passionate ministrations as her gu
ide, she flicked her tongue along the throbbing vein, then swirled it around the broad tip.
Harrison groaned, tilting his head back, but his fingers, twined through her hair, did not force or push as she found and set a steady rhythm.
“That’s it. Your mouth feels so good.” His hips jerked with her movements, but not enough to cause her any discomfort.
At his praise, Retta grew more confident. Longing for this experience to be wonderful for him, she again took him deep inside her mouth, slower this time, until he touched the back of her throat. His deep groan sent tingles of delight through her. Gauging her movements by his reactions, she pressed her fingers into his hips and quickened her pace, concentrating solely on pleasing him.
Harrison’s muscles went rigid, and his low guttural moan rent the air. His hands held her still. With one final pump of his hips, he filled her mouth with the warm rush of his release.
Satisfaction surged through her.
Then she froze when Harrison gave a hoarse shout in his last shudders. “Goddamn, Jenny.”
~ ~ ~
Harrison felt Retta jerk away, and his eyes flew open. The look of horror in her tear-filled gaze had him replaying the last five minutes in his somewhat scrambled brain.
Then it hit him. What he’d said.
Retta’s sweet mouth had been wrapped around him, draining him of his seed, yet his thoughts had gone to Jenny. And he’d fought off a tinge of guilt for having gotten over her so quickly. But it hadn’t been his wife’s name that he’d called out.
“Retta . . .”
Scrambling to her feet, she began to rapidly button her blouse, backing away from him. “I-I need to check on—”
Before she made it out the door, Harrison reached her side and pulled her into his arms. She struggled to get free. “Let me go, Harrison.”
The Substitute Wife Page 9
