The Longing

by Wendy Lindstrom

  Amelia smiled. She knew what skidding trees meant, but appreciated Willie’s consideration.

  One after the other, the men introduced themselves by their first name and position. Jake drove and cared for the horses. Axle sharpened their saws and provided blacksmith services. Lonnie dragged the scrap lumber off the saw tables. Cyrus fed scrap wood to the boiler that produced steam and powered the saws. Merle stacked cut lumber and loaded their customers’ wagons. A stocky little man named Shorty puffed up his chest and declared himself the best damned cook in the county. They were a gritty bunch of men, some of whom Amelia remembered, but she felt an immediate bond with all of them.

  As they turned back to their jobs, Kyle locked his fingers on her elbow and guided her directly to the office. He closed the door and leaned against it, his jaw working. “This is not going to work. The men won’t get anything done with you here. Neither will I. I need to squeeze every possible bit of production from this mill to have a hope in hell of resurrecting it. I can’t do that if I’m busy pulling you away from circular saws that will make you mincemeat before you can blink.”

  “I won’t go near the saws.”

  “They aren’t the only danger here. Chains snap in half and slice the air like swords. Logs shift and crush anything in their path. Horses trample our feet if we aren’t paying attention. Boilers blow up and spray water that feels like molten lava. There isn’t one of us who doesn’t have a black fingernail or bruised shin. Tools break—”

  “How is your shin?”

  “What?”

  “Your shin. I noticed you weren’t limping as badly today.”

  Kyle closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. “It’s healing, but we’re not talking about my shin right now.”

  “I’m not leaving,” she said firmly.

  He opened his eyes. “We’re this close to bankruptcy, Amelia.” He held his finger and thumb an inch apart. “I have no idea how I’ll keep that from happening, but I’d better find a way, because if I don’t, my brothers and I are going to have a hell of a time keeping the depot operating. We’ve poured every cent we have into buying this place. Our new saw arrived yesterday and nearly drained my personal bank account. I don’t have anything to fall back on except determination and a lot of hard work.” He straightened his shoulders and hooked his palm over the doorknob as if impatient to get back to work. “I appreciate what you’re trying to do, Amelia, but you’ll help most by going home and letting me get this shipment ready for the Hale contract.”

  The pleading look in his eyes encouraged her to agree, but Amelia was determined to build a relationship with her husband while helping him rebuild their floundering business. “Let me clean up the office, then. It won’t distract the men, or you, and there are no life threatening risks in here that would keep you from concentrating on what you’re doing.”

  He opened his mouth.

  “Please, Kyle. I need to be more than a burden to you.” Amelia lowered her lashes, desperate enough to beg, but refusing to grovel. “I need to contribute something to our marriage.” She was a lousy wife. She hadn’t even cooked for him yet and it shamed her. Kyle had made her breakfast yesterday morning, then last night they had had leftovers from their wedding. This morning, he’d left without any breakfast.

  He sighed and she looked up.

  “Please,” she whispered. “I won’t bother anyone.”

  “Why didn’t your mother warn me that you were so stubborn?”

  “Maybe she was afraid you wouldn’t marry me.”

  The irritation drained out of Kyle’s expression and he heaved a huge sigh. “You’re worse than Rebecca when you want something.”

  “Better for me to plead and cajole than to kick you in the shin again.”

  He snorted, then to her surprise, a lopsided smile tipped his arrogant mouth. “I suppose that was your last resort if I insisted you leave?”

  She shook her head. “Not even close.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  It was the first time Kyle had entered his own house to find supper waiting for him, and though it smelled divine, all he wanted to do was wash the grime off his body and fall into bed. His back ached and his shin throbbed. Dirt and sweat covered his body in thick layers that made his skin itch.

  His stomach growled, prodding him to get to the kitchen, but Kyle ignored it, his gaze glued to the thick cushions on the sofa as he contemplated trying to steal a ten-minute nap before Amelia realized he was home. Even five minutes would be a blessing. Two minutes would suffice.

  He shifted his weight to one leg, reached down and yanked off his boot, then did the same with the opposite foot. Two steps and he would nose-dive into oblivion.

  “I was beginning to worry about you,” Amelia said, standing in the kitchen doorway watching him.

  Kyle jerked upright as if she’d caught him peeking in her undergarment drawer.

  “I hope you’re hungry.” Her lips tilted in a warm, welcoming smile. “I think I made enough to feed our crew.”

  The warmth in her eyes made him ravenous. All he’d thought about during the evening was kissing her sassy mouth. She’d been smart to leave the mill before he yanked those godawful pants of hers down to her ankles and consummated their marriage on the damned desk.

  “There’s a tub of hot water beside the stove. I thought you might want to bathe before supper.”

  “You heated a bath for me?” Kyle couldn’t imagine Amelia struggling with the metal caldron and going to so much trouble for him. His tub was huge. It took forever to fill it with hot water. “I can’t believe you wrestled that heavy tub into the kitchen by yourself,” he said, unbuttoning his shirt as he crossed the parlor.

  “Who do you think did all my lifting and heaving at school?”

  He had never considered it. Before he could comment, his stomach interrupted with an obnoxious growl.

  “Maybe you should eat first.”

  “Not while I smell like a horse.” He angled his chin toward the kitchen and shrugged the shirt off his shoulders. “I asked my mother to pick up a few things for you. Did you have everything you needed for supper?”

  “Yes.” She glanced at his chest, then her gaze flickered back to his face. “The pantry shelves are sagging and the cupboards overflowing. I won’t need to shop for anything but meat for the next two months.” Her gaze dropped back to his bare chest.

  Well, what do you know? Maybe Boyd had been right after all.

  Kyle rolled the dirty fabric into a ball. The evening had suddenly taken an interesting turn. For the hell of it, he unbuttoned the waist of his pants.

  Amelia didn’t say a word as Kyle stepped into the kitchen, but her eyes grew large and she grasped the brass knob on the door between the kitchen and parlor. “I’ll close this for you so you can have some privacy.”

  “Leave it open,” he said, deciding to test his wife’s starch. He freed the rest of the buttons on his trousers.

  Her gaze dropped to his hips, her cheeks blazing. “You’d better hurry. The dumplings will be done soon,” she said, then moved farther into the parlor.

  Kyle had no intention of hurrying. He turned his back to the open door and purposefully slid his pants and undershorts over his hips and down his legs, praying Amelia would discover the mirror on the parlor wall before he got into the bath.

  He greeted the ensuing silence with a long, loud yawn and lifted his arms overhead, tightening his leg and buttock muscles, arching his back as he leisurely stretched toward the ceiling.

  A startled gasp came from the parlor.

  He grinned and stepped into the tub, then turned toward the open doorway for a few bold seconds before sitting down. If he had to share his house with her, then she would have to put up with his bad habits. It was only fair.

  Heat swirled around his fatigued body as he eased into the water. God, this was nice. A hot bath to soothe his aching body, a good meal to satisfy his hunger, and a woman to warm his bed. Life would have been perfect in tha
t moment if he could have looked forward to a night of bold, boisterous sex, but he worried that Amelia would continue to shrink from his touch.

  It wasn’t that he didn’t appreciate the bath and supper. He did. But God, he would appreciate her naked and lying beneath him so much more. Or sitting on top of him. Or...hell.

  He sighed and lay back in the tub telling his awakening body not to expect anything more pleasurable than a bath. His knees popped out of the water like small mountain peaks, but his aching shoulders were blessedly submerged in hot water. It must have taken Amelia two hours to fill the tub. Her back probably ached as bad as his from hauling the metal caldron out of the pantry and into the kitchen. The tub rested in a small wooden frame with casters, but was still a beast to move, not to mention heating enough water to cover him up to his neck.

  He would thank her during dinner. He would tell her she’d done a nice job of cleaning up the mess he’d made in the office while looking through her father’s files.

  Kyle wet his head then lathered away the specks of sawdust and dirt that coated it. He slid beneath the water to rinse his hair. Completely submerged with only his knees poking out of the heat surrounding him, Kyle vowed to repay Amelia for this gift. Maybe he would undress Amelia and put her in the tub. She could sit in the bath and eat her supper while Kyle rubbed her feet. The chance of Amelia going along with his plan was so absurd it made him snort.

  Kyle regretted the impulse the instant he inhaled. He levered himself into a sitting position and coughed the water from his lungs, his shoulders shaking and eyes burning.

  “Are you all right?” Amelia asked from the doorway, her expression a mixture of concern and embarrassment.

  He was fine, but another hard cough cut off his answer.

  She took a cautious step into the kitchen and Kyle realized that she would come to his side if she thought he needed help. The idea was too tempting to resist. He buried his face in his hands to hide his guilt. He shouldn’t do this to her. Really. It would be unkind after she’d worked so hard to please him. It would be unfair to subject her to his state of undress when it obviously flustered her. But he couldn’t resist testing Boyd’s theory a bit more. And dammit, he wanted his wife in his bed.

  He heard the fabric of her gown swish past his ear then felt her clutch his shoulder. “Are you breathing?”

  Not answering was unforgivable, but he had to see what she would do.

  The flat of her palm struck the middle of his wet back, the connecting crack so loud it stung his ears as fiercely as it stung his bare skin. He gasped and jerked upright as if she’d rammed a poker between his shoulder blades.

  Amelia’s breath rushed out and she sank down onto the chair, her hands pressed to her stomach. “I thought you were choking to death. You’d been under water so long I thought you’d fallen asleep and...God, you scared me.”

  She had been watching him! Kyle’s ego started doing somersaults. Amelia hadn’t been able to keep her eyes out of the mirror any more than he could have if she had been the one bathing.

  Kyle’s conscience immediately chastised him for taking advantage of his wife’s innocence, but with her sitting beside him trying not to stare at his water-streaked body, and failing miserably, Kyle refused to waste a moment on shame. He would suffer that bane later. Right now, he was too busy trying to decide if he should ask her to wash his back.

  Amelia would comply, believing it her wifely duty, but to Kyle’s complete shock, he realized he wanted more than a dutiful wife. He wanted the bold woman who had stood up to him at the mill earlier. He wanted a wife who would drop her dress on the kitchen floor and climb into the bathtub with him. A woman who would throw her head back and laugh as they sloshed water across her pretty oak floor.

  “Are you all right?”

  Kyle hunched forward, his body aching. No, he was not all right.

  “I’m sorry I hit you. It must hurt like the devil. I left a bright red hand print on your back.”

  Do not think about her in this tub! Do not think about her warm skin all slick with water and her nipples tight and...ah hell, he was lost. Kyle held the washcloth in front of his eager body. “Our supper is boiling over.”

  Amelia vaulted from the chair. When she peeked beneath the lid Kyle seized the opportunity to stand up and sweep the towel off the chair.

  “The dumplings are perfect,” she said, glancing at him before he could shake open the towel and cover himself. “Oh!” The lid clanged back onto the pot and she stumbled away from the stove. “Oh, I’m...I’m...oh, my goodness!”

  If she wouldn’t have looked so shocked, Kyle might have actually laughed at the expression on her face. But instead of embarrassment, he saw fear in her eyes.

  A mixture of irritation and sympathy swept through him and he covered himself with the bunched towel. “Let me dry off before you dish that up,” he said, nodding toward the steaming pot.

  She backed out of the room without saying a word.

  Well, that had gone well. He was going to kill Boyd tomorrow. Kyle scrubbed himself dry then yanked on his robe. He looked down and saw that Amelia had even brought his slippers to the kitchen. She’d done all of this to please him and he’d acted like an ass and scared her. Why was she so afraid of him anyhow?

  A gush of steam spewed out of the pot and sizzled on the stove. Kyle sighed. He might as well enjoy his supper, because Amelia’s expression told him it would be the only pleasure he would have tonight.

  Amelia’s face was still flushed when she returned, but she went to the stove and dished up two plates of chicken and dumplings, then set them on the table without looking at him.

  Kyle made sure his robe was completely closed and belted before he sat down. “Do you know if your father ever gambled?” he asked, and was immediately rewarded with direct eye contact.

  “Of course he didn’t. How could you even think such a thing?”

  “I don’t think that,” he said, spooning up a gravy-covered piece of chicken. “I’m just trying to figure out where all his money was going.”

  “Probably to fix the mill and pay off his debts.”

  “Maybe, but I think he might have been earning enough to keep the mill in repair without going into debt.” Kyle blew on his chicken before putting it in his mouth. He savored the flavor, grateful for not having to eat his own miserable cooking. “This is delicious.”

  “Thank you.” Amelia took a bite and stared at her plate while she chewed. “Why would Papa borrow money if the mill was able to support itself?”

  “I don’t know. I checked his record book before buying the lumberyard, and he appeared to be producing a fairly nice profit. That’s why I asked if he gambled. Your father has acquired a ton of debt without a logical reason to do so. Initially, I thought it was because the lumberyard wasn’t making money. But I think it is.”

  She glanced up. “That’s wonderful news!”

  He shrugged. “Maybe.” It would take at least three years to pay off Tom’s debts, and that didn’t include replacing the saw, which wouldn’t last much longer, and any other breakdowns or problems they might have.

  Kyle reached for the salt shaker. Missing money made him nervous. That money had been used for something that Tom didn’t want shown on his books. And it had been important enough for Tom to bankrupt his own business in order to fund or support it.

  “I’ll add more salt next time,” Amelia said.

  Kyle glanced down and realized he was burying his food out of habit. “No. This is perfect.” He placed the salt shaker beside the pepper then picked them up in one hand. “Really. I’ve just gotten used to hiding my bad cooking beneath a heap of salt and pepper. Most nights it was the only way I could choke it down.”

  Amelia smiled and Kyle finally began to relax. It felt odd to be sitting at his own table having a conversation. Most nights he sat alone with his head in his hand, gulping down his mother’s leftovers or whatever he could cook the quickest. Occasionally one of his brothers or his mother
would stop by, but they rarely ate with him. He’d been comfortable with that, but it wasn’t a hardship coming home to a good meal and having more than the four walls for company.

  Kyle placed the twin shakers in the middle of the table, and sat back in his chair. Amelia wasn’t temporary company. Barring misfortune or odd circumstance, she would be his tablemate every evening of his life. And soon she was going to become more than that.

  He glanced at her, but her gaze was settled on his chest. Kyle looked down and saw that his robe had gaped open. His first urge was to jerk it closed and apologize, but when he glanced at Amelia, her eyes were brimming with shy curiosity. If he hadn’t witnessed the fear in her eyes when he’d been climbing out of the bath, he would have sworn she wanted him to touch him. Her mixed messages were killing him.

  “Do you think Papa could have been buying another mill?”

  He saw her mouth move, but his mind was too busy seducing her to understand a word she’d spoken.

  “Could Papa have used his money to buy another business?”

  Kyle gulped a breath of air and dragged his mind back to their conversation. He had to get the hell out of the house. He absolutely couldn’t spend another night lying beside her with his fists clenched and his body aching.

  “Kyle? Are you all right?”

  “Did your father have any close friends who might have asked him to participate in a deal of some sort?” he asked.

  “No.” She shook her head as if to confirm her statement. “Papa spent all his time at the lumberyard or with Mama. He came to see me twice a week at my apartment, but that was the extent of his socializing after I...when I started teaching.” Her gaze dropped to her plate. “No. I’m certain he wasn’t entering into any type of business with anyone else.”

  Kyle feared as much, but hearing Amelia confirm it made his stomach queasy. God help them all if Tom Drake had been involved in something illegal or something that was going to come back and bite Kyle in the throat.

  And God help Amelia if he didn’t find an excuse to get out of the house.