She liked that. He could tell because her lips came open and she sighed. He raised his head and found her mouth, then blew gently into her ear. Her entire frame jerked.
“Oh,” she whispered. He kissed her throat and again breathed into the shell of her ear.
“You like that?”
“Yes.”
“More?”
“No,” she whispered. She rose up on one elbow to kiss him, which surprised him. Her mouth opened under his, and as she allowed him entry he realized she was trembling.
“Jenna,” he breathed against her lips.
“Don’t talk, Lee,” she murmured. “Just kiss me. Touch me.”
That surprised him even more. He smoothed his palm over her belly, gradually moved lower until his hand touched the silky hair between her thighs.
“Yes,” she breathed.
He slid one finger past her folds and stroked slowly back and forth. Her breath caught, and her soft moan told him everything he needed to know.
Oh, God, she felt good. She was hot and slick and so soft it was like touching spun silk. His groin began to ache. He wanted her under him, but he knew he’d have to take it slow.
She made a soft noise and the sound sent a bolt of desire through him. He clenched his jaw.
Jenna felt his body stiffen. But his hand, his finger... He was touching her in such an intimate way it made her gasp. It felt wonderful. Intoxicating. And so delicious she never wanted it to end.
He slipped a finger inside her and her heart stopped. Her body slowed and grew warm, as if a hot light were flooding into her being. She lifted her hips to meet his gentle probing, wanting him closer, deeper.
Again his mouth found hers, his tongue teasing and plunging, then withdrawing. He tasted of coffee and something sweet. Blackberries, she guessed.
He made a sound deep in his throat that spoke of hunger and wanting, and she shivered. Her skin felt as if stars were raining down on her flesh.
She strained to get closer, wanted to crawl inside his skin. He lifted his lips from hers, breathing heavily, and spoke against her mouth, his voice low and gravelly.
“Jenna. Jenna, tell me you want this. Say it. That you want me. Want to be with me. Say it.”
She couldn’t speak. Instead, she kissed his mouth, his closed eyelids, his throat. She moved to his shoulder, ran her tongue over one nipple, then the other, and heard him groan. She slid her palm over his belly and then lower, touching him. His body was shaking.
He sucked in air and grabbed her hand away. “Don’t.”
“Why?” she whispered. “I want to touch you.” She smoothed her forefinger along his length, and again he lifted her hand away, breathing hard.
“I’m too close.” He pressed her hand to his chest and held it there while his breath rasped in and out. He put his mouth on her throat, moved behind her ear, then pressed kisses along the valley between her breasts, all the while circling his finger within her intimate folds.
His finger moved deeper inside her and she cried out. It felt hot and sweet and it made her ache.
“Lee,” she murmured. “Don’t stop.”
Gently he nudged her legs apart with his knee and rose over her. “If you don’t want this, tell me now. Later, I won’t be able to stop.”
She reached her hand up to his shoulders and pulled him down to her. “Don’t stop. I want to be with you.”
Very slowly he entered her. When he filled her completely, he withdrew and entered her again. She heard him whisper her name, and then he began to move.
“Oh, God, Jenna.”
She rose to meet him, her body tightening, reaching. She wanted to cry out, to hold him deep inside her. Tears stung into her eyes. She opened her mouth and suddenly something burst inside her and her body convulsed. Wave after wave of exquisite pleasure rocked through her. Behind her eyelids she saw colors, scarlet stars and silver-white shapes that exploded into fire.
Lee covered her cry with his mouth, and then his body stiffened. He was close, so close. Fighting for control, he tried to think of something else, the wagon, the oxen, Devil. But then she moved under him, and he had no choice but to let it come.
He clamped his lips shut against the shout that erupted, he rode her into oblivion.
A long while later he lifted his head and gazed into Jenna’s eyes. He could scarcely believe what had happened. Hell, maybe he was dreaming.
She stirred under him, and he rolled off and gathered her into his arms. Her heart was still racing.
“Lee?” Her voice sounded dazed.
Oh, God, don’t spoil it. Just let it be. “Yeah?”
“Does it... I mean, does it always happen like that?”
He swallowed and tried to steel himself. “Like what?”
“Like...everything exploding, like fireworks. Does it?”
He tried very hard not to grin, but her question made him so damn happy he thought he would split. “Well, it depends, I guess.”
“On what?”
“On whether you want it. On...” he hesitated “...on whether the other person means something to you.”
She said nothing, just lay quietly in his arms. He could almost hear her mind working. He’d bet it had never been like this for her. He felt proud and shaken and grateful and possessive all at once.
She reached one hand to his cheek. “It is a wondrous thing, isn’t it?”
“Not always. But some special times it is, yes.”
“I might never have known this,” she whispered. “I am glad I didn’t miss it.”
Didn’t miss...? He sensed finality behind her words, and he didn’t like it. He turned her hand over and pressed his lips into her palm. Her skin tasted sweet and a little salty.
Like her.
Chapter Twenty-One
Jenna awoke at dawn to find the pallet beside her empty. She sighed and smoothed her hand over the blanket, still warm from where his body had lain. She felt languid and a bit dazed, yet her body was exquisitely tuned to every sound and scent, the soft whicker of horses, wood smoke from someone’s fire pit, the rich smell of frying bacon...
Bacon! She gasped and bolted upright, and the cool morning air washed over her bare breasts. Her camisole and muslin underdrawers and petticoat lay neatly folded at the foot of her pallet; her calico skirt and shirtwaist had been laid out beside them.
She dressed quickly, fumbling with ties and buttons, until she was decent enough to appear in camp, then braided her hair and bound it at the nape of her neck. When she emerged from under the wagon, Lee was bent over a skillet, turning strips of bacon with a fork. Mary Grace stood next to him, mixing up a bowl of something. She smelled coffee!
Lee turned and her heartbeat kicked up a notch. Two notches. She couldn’t look at him.
Mary Grace’s stirring spoon halted. “You look all different, Jenna. Your face looks...funny. You’ve been crying again, haven’t you? Didn’t you like the ball last night?”
“Yes, I liked it,” Jenna managed. “I liked it very much.” She knew her cheeks were flushing but there was nothing she could do about it. Maybe Lee wouldn’t notice.
But he did notice. His eyes met hers for a long moment, and then he grinned. “Are you hungry this morning?” he asked, his voice bland.
“I—Yes, I am. Ravenous.”
He forked up a strip of crisp bacon and held it out to her. “There’s coffee, too.”
“You must have gotten up very early,” she said.
Again his gaze held hers. “Or maybe you slept late.”
“Yes, I was tired after...after the ball.”
“I wasn’t.” He poured her a mug of coffee, brought it over to her and pointed at the apple crate. “You’d better sit down, Jenna. You’re shaking.”
She pl
opped herself down and sipped the coffee while Lee lifted the bacon slices onto a tin plate and motioned Mary Grace toward the skillet.
“I’m gonna make pancakes,” the girl said proudly.
Jenna blinked. She’s going to make pancakes? Good heavens, Mary Grace was growing up right before her eyes. She could only hope that Tess would follow.
That hope was dashed when Ruthie and Tess climbed out of the wagon.
“I wanna make pancakes, too,” Ruthie said.
“You’re too little,” Tess shot.
“Am not!”
“Are too!”
“Girls!” Jenna stood up. “Last night you behaved like young ladies, and I was proud of you. This morning...” She let her voice trail off.
Tess made a face. “This morning Ruthie is still too little to make—”
Lee turned to face her. “Tess.” His tone brought both girls to attention. “You want to eat breakfast?”
“Of course I do. I’m hungry!”
“Instead of teasing Ruthie, you could have helped. You ever consider that?”
An uneasy silence fell. Mary Grace dipped a spoonful of thick batter into the skillet and Jenna drew in a deep breath and looked up at the sky. Maybe she was still dreaming.
Sunlight shone through the aspen leaves, turning them scarlet and gold. It was a beautiful, peaceful morning, with thrushes singing in the trees, cows lowing to be milked, the sounds of people beginning to stir about in their wagons. The last thing she wanted was to spoil the wonder of her night with Lee by arguing with Tess. She closed her eyes and said nothing until a plate of pancakes and bacon slid onto her lap.
“Better eat,” Lee said. “Got a long day ahead of us. And,” he added in an undertone, “a long night.”
She opened her mouth to reply, but he was leaning against the wagon wheel, smiling over his plate of pancakes. She closed her eyes again and tried to calm her breathing.
An hour later, the wagon train rolled away from Fort Caspar and out onto the rutted trail to Oregon. It was a scorching day. No trees grew on the flat, unbroken plain, just spiny-looking gray sagebrush and the occasional sparse stand of cottonwoods near dried-up streambeds. By the time they stopped for their nooning, the girls were so wilted and short-tempered they refused to speak to each other.
Lee climbed down from the driver’s box and reached up for Ruthie, who was drooping in the heat. He carried her to the shade of a spreading oak and set her down next to Tess, then mopped his face with his bandanna and sought Jenna’s eyes. She looked so exhausted his conscience pricked him.
It was his fault. Neither of them had slept much last night, but God knew he wouldn’t trade a single hour with her for a whole day under a shade tree. He stepped close to her.
“You need to rest, Jenna. You’ve been walking since breakfast.”
“I am quite all right. It’s Ruthie I am worried about.”
“Yeah, I know. We’re facing a hundred more miles of this desert.”
“And some Indians,” she added. “Last night at the ball I heard Colonel Owens warn Sam about Indians.”
Lee swore under his breath. He’d have to guard Devil closely at night. He couldn’t afford to lose his horse; he’d pinned all his hopes for a future on having a horse ranch in Oregon, and to do that he needed his prize Arabian stallion. If he had to he’d sit up all night with his rifle.
The rest of the afternoon on the trail he studied the horizon for a telltale dust cloud signaling Indian trouble and praying the emigrant train wouldn’t stumble into the middle of a war between the Sioux and the Crow. Looking into the sun like that made his eyes ache.
He kept an eye on Jenna, walking on the left side of the rolling wagon. Nothing he could say would persuade her to ride next to him on the box. Stubborn woman. Tess and Mary Grace straggled along on the other side, and now they dropped back beside Mick McKernan’s team of horses.
Lee slowed the oxen so the girls could catch up, but it wasn’t soon enough. Mick’s bellowing voice made his hands clench on the reins.
“Hey, girlie, you tell yer ma hello from this Irishman, will ya?”
Tess tossed her head and slipped an arm around Mary Grace’s waist.
“You hear me?” McKernan whipped his team and pulled forward so his front wheels almost touched the Borland wagon. Jimmy Gumpert hurried Tess into a faster pace, while Mary Grace swung herself up into the wagon.
“Hey,” Mick yelled again. “Tell yer ma she’s the prettiest colleen in this train, even if she is in the family way.”
Tess turned to make some retort, but the Gumpert boy yanked her back.
“Ya hear me, gal? You tell that to yer ma, and make sure she knows it’s Mick McKernan that’s sayin’ it.”
Jenna shot Lee a look. “Stop the wagon, Lee. I don’t want the girls harassed.”
“Better to keep moving,” he called. “I’ll outpace him.” Jenna frowned, but she resumed walking steadily at his left.
“What’s a colleen?” Ruthie piped.
Lee leaned toward her. “A pretty girl. Like you.”
He started to add something, but Mick McKernan’s voice stopped him.
“You tell yer ma she’s a damn fine-lookin’ female,” the Irishman rasped. “Bet she’s hungry for a real man ’bout now, and I’m just the—”
His words suddenly broke off. Lee twisted to check on the girls and found Mary Grace walking backward next to her sister, pointing Lee’s revolver straight at McKernan’s belly.
“You leave my stepmother alone!” she shouted.
Jenna gasped. “Lee, she has your gun!”
“Yeah.” He was proud of the girl. “She knows how to fire it, too,” he said. “Glad I showed her.”
The McKernan wagon dropped back, and Lee released a long breath.
Jenna said nothing. She was astounded at Mary Grace’s actions. Part of her swelled with relief and pride that the girl had come to her defense; another part questioned how long her stepdaughter’s regard would last. Just when she thought the older girls were beginning to accept her, one of them said something mean and hurtful.
Lee had been right to teach the girls how to handle a weapon. It gave them a measure of safety on the trail. She supposed that was true of his teaching them to ride, as well.
When the wagons stopped for the night, Lee didn’t bother to unhitch the oxen. Instead, he strode up to the front of the train to talk with Sam Lincoln. When he returned, he climbed back up onto the box, lifted the reins and drove the team forward in a huge circle and then pulled in behind the McKernan wagon.
The minute he rolled to a stop, Tess and Mary Grace stepped forward to unyoke the team. “You did well today,” he said to Mary Grace.
She gestured at their new position in the train. “So did you.”
Supper was corn bread and beans that had been soaking all day in a canvas bag tied to the wagon. They had replenished their dwindling supplies at the sutler’s store at Fort Caspar, and now there was plenty of cornmeal and coffee, even a small sack of sugar. For dessert that night Jenna concocted a pudding using eggs from Sophia Zaberskie’s chickens and milk from Emma Lincoln’s cow.
Darkness fell. Crickets began to scrape in the silence, and mosquitos whined about her head. Jenna smeared Ruthie’s face and arms with citronella oil to repel them. The older girls escaped into the wagon, but Ruthie insisted on staying up to watch Lee carve another wooden figure.
“Is that a woof?” she asked.
“It’s a dog,” Lee answered. “He has a big tail, doesn’t he? Guess he does look a bit like a wolf, though.”
“Woofs sound sad at night,” Ruthie observed. “They make howly noises. And they’re scary, too.”
Jenna jerked to attention. Was the girl frightened at night? She plunged the tin plates into the bucket of hot
wash water. “Ruthie, are you afraid at night?”
“Y-yes, sometimes. Tess pokes me when I’m scared. Could I sleep with you under the wagon, Jenna? Then I wouldn’t be scared.”
Lee caught Jenna’s eye and nodded. “I’ll be on guard duty all night,” he said in a low voice. “Sam warned me about some Indians he spotted.”
“Indians?” she whispered.
“Don’t worry, you’re plenty safe under the wagon. I’ll be three feet away from you.”
“Oh.”
“Disappointed?” he breathed.
“Relieved,” she admitted with a laugh that just burbled out. “I don’t know if I could stand another night with no sleep.”
He sent her a look she couldn’t read. “Didn’t like last night, huh?”
She sloshed the last plate in the rinse water and picked up the huck towel. Lee stepped in so close she could feel his breath on the back of her neck. It sent a shiver of want through her entire body, and her hand faltered.
“Send Ruthie to bed in the wagon and let’s go for a walk,” he whispered.
Her face burned. “I...well, I...”
He laughed softly. “All right, I’ll kiss you right here.”
“Ruthie,” she said quickly. “Go to bed in the wagon for now. Later you can sleep next to me.”
“What about Mister Lee?”
Lee knelt in front of the girl. “Mister Lee isn’t going to sleep tonight. He’s going to be on guard duty.”
“What’s garduty?”
“That’s when someone protects you while you’re sleeping.”
Ruthie flung her thin arms around his neck and smacked a kiss against his stubbly cheek. “Night, Mister Lee.”
Lee found his throat so tight he couldn’t answer. When Ruthie scampered up into the wagon, he rose to discover Jenna had disappeared. Well, hell.
He checked the hobble he’d attached to Devil’s legs, then took his rifle and stationed himself between the Borland wagon and the one ahead of it, settled his back against the iron wheel rim and rested his weapon across his lap.
It turned out to be a long, long night. He thought a lot about Jenna, and about the girls, about the child Jenna was carrying. About the hundreds of miles they had yet to cross before winter would set in.
Baby on the Oregon Trail Page 15
