Once a Mail Order Bride

by Bold, Diana

  Chapter Eleven

  SARAH JERKED AWAKE, causing a wave of cold water to slosh over the rim of the tub and splatter on the floor. She glanced around, disorientated, until she heard Luke’s voice.

  “Sarah? Are you all right in there?”

  She nodded then realized he couldn’t see her. “Yes,” she called, her voice raspy with sleep. “I’m fine. I just fell asleep. I’ll be out in a moment.”

  “All right. I’ll be waiting for you in the parlor.”

  She didn’t move until she heard him move away from the door. Then she dunked her head in the lukewarm water, rinsing her hair, in case she’d forgotten to do so before she fell asleep.

  She toweled off and then donned her heavy flannel nightgown and robe. Twisting her wet hair in a towel, she left it piled atop her head. As much as she’d like to spend more time with Luke, she was too exhausted. She’d just pause outside the parlor and wish him goodnight.

  But when she saw him, still gloriously bare-chested, setting up a chessboard before the fire, she couldn’t resist his hopeful smile. She patted her towel-covered hair in chagrin. “I have to do something with my hair. I’ll come back down after I’m done.”

  She was halfway to the stairs when Luke’s voice stopped her. “Let me do it, Sarah. Let me brush your hair.”

  “All right,” she murmured in surprise, turning back toward the parlor. She knelt on the plush carpeting in front of his chair and handed him her silver hairbrush.

  “Turn around,” he whispered, pulling the towel free and allowing her golden tresses to spill down her back in a wet tumble. The faint scent of roses grew stronger.

  He inhaled deeply, his pulse quickening despite his best intentions to control it. “You have such beautiful hair. I’ve been dying to touch it.”

  “Really?” She cast him a startled look over her shoulder and then settled Indian-style on the floor, presenting him with the back of her head.

  He gathered her hair in his hands, spreading it in a golden fan over his knees. The silky strands clung to his fingertips and trousers, spinning a web like the one she’d used to capture his heart. He imagined her poised above him in the throes of passion, her hair tickling his bare chest.

  Clearing his throat, he picked up the brush and began to work out the tangles. After a while, she began to relax. Ten minutes later, her arms were resting against his calves and soft sighs of pleasure were escaping her lips.

  “I had a maid who used to do this for me when I was a child. I’d forgotten how soothing it was.” Sarah’s voice was husky and low, the way he imagined she’d sound when they’d made love.

  He set the brush aside and separated three thick blond skeins at her crown. “Would you like me to plait it?” He was reluctant to let her go. He’d never imagined he could get so much enjoyment out of touching a woman’s hair.

  “You know how?” Sarah glanced over her shoulder, her green eyes lit with an impish glow. “You’re a man of many unexpected talents.”

  He grinned. “My mother used to read to me while I brushed her hair. She said it was the perfect way to wind down after a long day.”

  “She was absolutely right,” Sarah declared. “I had a bit of a headache before, but now it’s gone.”

  “Good,” he murmured. Her silky hair slid repeatedly through his fingertips, refusing to be tamed. “I’m out of practice. It’s been a long time.” His mother had died when he was fourteen, and he’d never gotten over it. She’d been the one to encourage his artistic pursuits. Once she was gone, his father had done everything he could to beat such sissified ideas out of his head.

  She lifted her hands, brushing his away and braiding the entire length of her hair in mere moments. She handed him a ribbon to bind the end, then turned around, bracing her palms on his thighs as she stared up at him. “Thank you. This has been a wonderful evening.”

  His gaze drifted to the sweet curve of her mouth, then back up to her eyes. She went so still he wondered if she’d stopped breathing.

  “I want to kiss you again.” He covered her hands with his own, gently imprisoning her in the lee of his thighs. “Will you let me?”

  She let her gaze slip to his chest, heat rising in her cheeks. Then she nodded and a tremor swept her slim body as he leaned forward, brushing her mouth with his.

  It was a chaste, tentative taste, and it wasn’t nearly enough. He slid his hands up her arms and then cupped her face, tracing her fine-boned features with near reverence. Her skin was satiny soft, and the scent of roses made him dizzy with longing.

  He lowered his lips to hers again. This time the kiss was longer, deeper. She opened for him with a little gentle urging, and then he was drowning in the hot, heady taste of her.

  Sarah put her hands on his shoulders, as though to steady herself, but a moment later she began molding the contours of his upper chest. He shuddered, releasing her mouth to explore the tender shell of her ear with his tongue and his teeth.

  She trailed her fingertips across his bare stomach, and then lower, fingering the loose waistband of his trousers. “You’ve been so distant the last few days. I was afraid you didn’t want me anymore.”

  He pulled away a bit to gaze down into her troubled eyes. “I want you, sweetheart. Never doubt it.”

  His answer chased away the shadows that had been building in Sarah for days. Impossible to believe she hadn’t even known this man a week ago. How had he come to mean so much to her so quickly? All she wanted to do was hold him, please him, love away his obvious pain.

  Then he slid to his knees on the floor in front of her. Burying his hands in her hair, he kissed her deeply, releasing the braid as his tongue danced with hers.

  Fanning her damp hair across her shoulders, he fumbled with the tiny buttons of her nightgown. Impatient, she brushed his hands away and shed the heavy fabric. Maybe this was wrong, perhaps she was foolish to allow him such liberties without benefit of marriage, but she couldn’t deny her desire for him any longer. Her life had taught her time and again that tomorrow was not guaranteed, and tonight she just wanted to feel alive, if only for a little while.

  He broke the kiss and guided her down to the soft carpet, bracing himself on one elbow as his other hand made a slow sweep down her body. He skimmed her breasts, belly, and thighs, gazing at her with appreciation.

  She closed her eyes when he parted her thighs, content to let herself feel. She was already soaking wet for him; his pleasure had aroused her to an unbearable level. He parted her damp curls and slid two fingers inside her, flicking her most sensitive flesh with his thumb.

  She moaned and thrust against his hand. He gave a soft laugh and leaned forward, circling her nipple with his tongue while his fingers continued to work their magic.

  God, the feel of his mouth at her breast was incredible. She buried her hands in his silky hair, wantonly offering herself. He turned his attention to her other breast, teasing it to rigid attention with his lips before lashing it with his tongue.

  When he moved lower, pressing light kisses across the sensitive plain of her belly, she wanted to protest the loss. But then she realized where he was heading.

  Moaning in mingled shock and dismay, she pushed up on her elbows. Chest heaving, she watched as he knelt between her thighs, spreading her wide.

  “So pretty,” he whispered. “I want to drown in you, Sarah.”

  Then he pressed his mouth to her core, the sensation ripping through her very soul. She cried out, arching against him as he plunged his fingers deep inside her, thrusting in rhythm to the hot lash of his tongue.

  It was too much. The tension built within her, cresting in waves until it burst, shattering her entire world. Ecstasy streaked through her, leaving her weak and trembling in its wake.

  Before she had time to regain her senses, Luke moved back over her, rubbing himself against her wet heat, then burying himself to the hilt in one swift, deep plunge.

  She wrapped her legs around his lean hips as he began to pump deep within her, his lac
k of control sexier than anything she’d ever known. Within moments, she was coming again, crying out in sheer bliss as he moved faster and harder, the slap of skin echoing her sobbing disintegration.

  And then he shuddered, every muscle in his body standing out in sharp relief as he spilled his seed and joined her in heaven.

  LUKE PROPPED HIMSELF on one elbow, watching Sarah in the candlelight. After their earth-shattering lovemaking, she’d fallen asleep in his arms. He’d held her for a long time, still drifting in the pleasant aftermath.

  But after a while, he’d grown restless, and a burning need to capture the moment had sparked within him. This time, he knew he could draw her. He slipped away and grabbed a sketchpad and some charcoal out of the desk on the other side of the room.

  Within moments, he’d sketched her likeness, from the unselfish purity of her sleeping face to the perfection of her lush, welcoming body. She lay on her side, one hand folded beneath her cheek, the other reaching for him even in sleep.

  He couldn’t look at her sweet mouth without getting hard. God. He’d never had such a giving, generous lover. Never known a woman so unafraid to show her passion.

  He didn’t ever want to let her go. Sighing, he decided he needed to get away from her. He needed to get some perspective.

  Leaning down, he pressed his lips to her temple then left his small sketch where she’d be sure to find it. He only wished he could give her more.

  Chapter Twelve

  SARAH SPENT THE NEXT day immersed in cleaning the years of neglect from Luke’s home. She found it strangely satisfying. With every passing day, the big house felt more like a home.

  It was a far cry from the Greek Revival mansion where she’d grown up, but within its walls, she could envision a far cozier type of life. Luke’s house fairly cried out to be occupied by a large, happy family.

  Unfortunately, she and Luke hadn’t made any more steps in that direction. After the blissful hours they’d spent in the parlor last night, she’d expected him to offer to share his bed. Instead, she’d awoken cold and alone. He’d left a small sketch of her, and she’d found it beautiful, yet disturbing. He’d been more than flattering, making her look like a sleeping angel, but it made her uncomfortable to think that he’d stared at her nudity long enough to draw it. She’d hidden it in her room, wondering what she was supposed to do with a naked picture of herself.

  He’d been up at dawn and had spent the entire day out on the ranch. She’d been waiting for him to return all afternoon but didn’t know what she would say to him when he did.

  She didn’t know how she could go on like this, giving herself to him so completely without any real indication that he intended to make their relationship permanent. He probably thought she was a whore and who could blame him, given her recent behavior?

  When she was with him, her base instincts took over. She couldn’t look at him without wanting to touch him, without wanting to feel him inside her. It had never been like this with her husband William. Though they’d made love repeatedly in the weeks before William had left for war, he’d been as shy and embarrassed as she was. Their encounters had been perfunctory at best, done in the dark and never spoken of.

  With a sigh, she finished straightening Luke’s room and then closed his door behind her. She was on her way to check on dinner when she heard a commotion at the front door. A woman’s laughter echoed down the hall, followed by Luke’s deep murmur.

  “Sarah,” Luke called, freezing her in her tracks. “Come here. There’s someone I’d like you to meet.”

  She walked down the hall, dreading what she’d find. Luke stood in the doorway, and he smiled with apparent pleasure as Sarah approached. For a moment, she was too lost in the depths of his smoky gray eyes to pay much attention to the woman beside him. Knowing she was being rude, she wrenched her gaze away and glanced at his guest.

  The woman was gorgeous and dressed in the very latest fashion. The smile she bestowed on Luke was full of affection.

  Sarah was achingly aware of her own oft-mended gown, unkempt hair, and the smudges of dirt on her arms and face. With reluctance, she joined the pair, jealousy rising within her as she wondered why she’d ever thought she could make Luke care for her.

  “Sarah, I’d like you to meet my sister-in-law, Rebecca. Becky, this is Sarah.”

  Sister-in-law? A rush of relief swept through her, startling in its intensity. Rebecca was married to Luke’s brother. Therefore, she was no threat. But then she realized if Rebecca was here, Luke’s brother couldn’t be far behind.

  Rebecca gave her a nervous grin. “It’s nice to meet you, Sarah.”

  Sarah’s fleeting good humor disappeared. She glared at Luke and saw that his smile had slipped as well.

  “My brother, Matt, is still outside talking to Hank. He’ll be in shortly.” Luke shrugged, an apology in his eyes. “I invited them to stay for dinner. That is, if you’ve made enough.”

  Sarah nodded. “There’s a roast in the oven. It should be done soon.”

  “Are you sure it isn’t an inconvenience?” Rebecca asked. “I told Matt we should send word ahead.”

  “It’s no bother,” Sarah told the other woman, but she knew her voice was unwelcoming.

  Rebecca paled and cast a desperate look at Luke.

  He shrugged and turned toward the door. “I’m going to visit with Matt. Becky, why don’t you see if you can help Sarah in the kitchen?”

  Then he left and the two women were alone. Sarah couldn’t believe he’d had the nerve to thrust this woman’s help upon her. He had to know how much she resented his brother’s interference in her life.

  She hurried down the hall, leaving Rebecca to follow, or not, as she chose. Unfortunately, she heard Rebecca’s high-heeled shoes clattering on the wooden floor behind her as she reached the kitchen.

  “What can I do to help?” Rebecca smiled, obviously determined to make friends.

  Sarah spared her a scathing glance. “You’re not dressed for kitchen work. If you’ll wait in the parlor, I’ll bring you something cool to drink.”

  Rebecca flushed then reached out to touch Sarah’s arm. “I know you’re angry with us. You have every right to be. But please, give me a chance to explain.”

  Sarah stared at Rebecca for a long moment and then sighed. “I think an explanation is the least of what you owe me.”

  Rebecca nodded and pulled out one of the kitchen chairs, seating herself at the table. “Sit down and talk with me for a moment.”

  Sarah took the seat across from her, a frown tugging on the corners of her mouth. “I wasn’t the only one you and your husband hurt. Luke was devastated by your actions.”

  Rebecca steepled her fingertips and stared at Sarah. There was no mistaking the speculation in her eyes. “So, you do care for him.”

  It was Sarah’s turn to blush. She looked away, unable to meet the other woman’s steady gaze. “We’ve become friends. He’s a good man.”

  “Yes, he is,” Rebecca agreed. “And that’s why his brother and I couldn’t bear to watch him stew in his misery any longer. He’s been lonely for so long.”

  “He’s a very attractive man,” Sarah admitted. “I’m sure he’ll have no problem finding someone to love, once he’s ready.”

  Rebecca glanced over her shoulder, as though to make sure they were still alone, and then lowered her voice. “Luke was in love once, to a woman named Christine.”

  Rebecca’s words caused Sarah’s heart to sink. Even though she’d known there was a woman in Luke’s past, it pierced her to hear the name. “What happened?” she asked, unable to pretend she wasn’t dying of curiosity.

  “Christine never loved Luke,” Rebecca told her. “She was horrified when he lost his foot. She told him she’d never share his bed because she found him so repulsive.”

  Sarah caught her breath. Luke’s embarrassment and defensiveness made sense now. “Poor Luke.”

  Rebecca reached across the table and squeezed Sarah’s hand. “I didn’t
tell you any of this because I wanted you to feel sorry for him. I just wanted you to understand why he’s so angry and bitter. I don’t want you to give up on him. He’s worthy of your love, Sarah. He’ll realize you’re not like Christine. Everything will work out, just give him some time.”

  Sarah snatched her hand away, determined not to give in to Rebecca’s friendly overtures so easily. “I’m not in love with Luke Chandler.”

  But she knew it was a lie. She’d cared for Luke ever since the first time they’d had dinner together. And despite all the problems they were having, she knew she wouldn’t be happy until he loved her, too.

  Rebecca gave her a knowing look. “He cares for you, Sarah. And he’s changed since you arrived. There’s a spark of life in his eyes that hasn’t been there in years.”

  Sarah stared down at her clenched hands, wanting to believe Rebecca’s words but afraid to allow herself to hope once again. “He doesn’t want a wife. He’s told me so repeatedly.”

  Rebecca laughed. “Well then, we’ll just have to find a way to change his mind, won’t we?”

  Sarah smiled, warming to Rebecca’s unabashed optimism. “If you could help me do that, Rebecca, I could forgive you for deceiving me in the first place.”

  “Call me Becky,” Rebecca insisted. “And that’s a deal I’m anxious to take you up on.”

  THAT NIGHT, LUKE ENTERTAINED his guests in a house that sparkled with cleanliness. As he seated himself at the head of the dining room table, watching Sarah and Rebecca bring in steaming platters of roast and mashed potatoes, he realized the extent of the transformation she’d made in his life.

  Sarah had made him proud of his home, unashamed to offer Matt and Rebecca the use of one of the spare rooms for the night. She’d given him so much, and he’d offered damn little in return.