Silver-Tongued Devil

by Lorelei James

  “I can build one,” he offered. “Would you like it right next to the stove?”

  She crossed over to the other side of the cabin. “Actually, I think this corner would be better. That stove tends to get hot. The food would stay cooler on this side.”

  “There will be more room over there once Jonas is out.”

  “With the bed gone? Definitely. But I’m claiming the wardrobe for my clothes. Plus, I’ll need space for my sewing machine, desk and trunk.”

  “So what do I need to fix first?”

  “I’d ask you to add shelves to the wall by the stove for dishes.” She ran her hand along the table beneath the window. “Then build a wider table with more storage shelves underneath. We could abut this skinnier table at the end, closing off the space. The wash tub and water pitcher could go on top here. We could even store the kindling sticks for the cookstove below. Then if you build the larder in that corner, there’d still be room for the table and chairs and my credenza under the window.”

  He grinned. “You’ve been here five minutes and you’re already makin’ changes.”

  Dinah wheeled back around. “Does it bother you? Because I’m not saying we have to do all of it. I’m not bringing even a full wagonload of things with me, but I will need places to store my things as well as basic household items and an area to prepare our food—”

  “Hey.” He tugged her against his body and kissed her. “I’m not bothered. I’m happy you’re seein’ the potential of this place.” His face heated but he kept his gaze locked to hers when he admitted, “This cabin ain’t much. I wish I could build you a house like Henrikson’s—”

  She pressed her lips to his. “I haven’t had a home since my dad died.” Her mouth curved into a sheepish smile. “So I might’ve gotten a little carried away. Besides, we’re not getting married until next summer. There’s time for setting up housekeeping.”

  “But knowin’ exactly what you want done would give me something to work on when I’m here alone and missin’ you over the next year.”

  “If you truly want me to write things down, there’s paper in my bag.”

  “Let’s get them bags unpacked.”

  Silas got sidetracked watching all the items Dinah pulled out. Flour and lard in glass jars. Sugar, eggs, a crock of butter, and a bottle of milk. Fresh greens, a bunch of small carrots, dried apples, and dried beans. When she glanced up and saw him staring, she blushed. “I didn’t know what staples you had on hand, so I brought the necessities.”

  “Keep goin’. I’m curious to see what else you deem necessary.”

  She hugged a mysterious wrapped bundle to her chest and walked to his bed to shove it under the pillow. She wouldn’t meet his gaze when she returned.

  Interesting.

  “You could help, you know,” she suggested.

  Silas peeled the flap back to his bag and pulled out a handkerchief that’d been tied at the top. After untying it, he dumped out…ten sprouted potatoes. “Is this for supper?”

  “They’re for planting. If you turn over some dirt tomorrow, I’ll cut these, plant them, and cover them with dirt and straw. Hopefully it’s not too late in the season to grow enough to fill your root cellar with potatoes this fall.”

  He rubbed the back of his neck. “Ah…about that. What if I tell you I don’t have a root cellar?”

  “Do you have an icehouse?”

  “In the winter. It’s called the creek.”

  She flapped the bandana at him. “You’ll have a shovel in your hand tomorrow so you might as well dig another hole.”

  Amused, he said, “Where?”

  “Close by. Where the ground will be cool, but dry.” She propped her hand on her hip. “Where do you store meat?”

  “In barrels in the far corner of the barn. Salt beef and brined pork. I’m low on both, which is why I’m happy for the summer when the huntin’s good.”

  “What can you catch for supper? I’d planned on making stew and dumplings.”

  “Probably easiest to shoot a rabbit.”

  She smiled widely. “Can you teach me how to skin them and clean them?”

  “Whoa, you sure you’re ready for that?”

  “Yes. Martha trades us rabbit meat for milk and eggs. But she keeps the skins. I’ve wondered what it’d take to clean buckshot out of the meat and tan the hides.”

  Silas moved closer to touch her, just because he could. “You don’t gotta learn how to do everything in one day, Dinah.”

  “You’re right. Shame though.”

  “What?”

  Her exaggerated sigh sent his warning bells clanging. “I’d looked forward to learning how to make you a sugar pie since it’s your favorite, but since I don’t gotta learn how to do everything in one day, I’ll just make apple brown betty instead—”

  Dinah shrieked when Silas picked her up, spun her around and set her in front of the cookstove.

  “I was wrong, woman. Please please please make me that pie. Right now.”

  She laughed and slumped against him. “Gonna tie me to the stove until I do?”

  I’d rather tie you to my bed and eat up every inch of you until you moan.

  His body reacted to the idea of a naked Dinah, squirming beneath his hands and mouth.

  “What were you thinking about just now? The truth.”

  Pulling her hair aside, he found a spot to taste and tease on her neck. Then he sank his teeth in, latching onto her upper arms when her knees went weak. “How I can’t wait to learn all the ways to touch you that make you thrash and beg and come undone,” he murmured.

  “But…I thought you said we weren’t…”

  “Oh, it ain’t gonna happen tonight.” At least not the act of him rutting between her thighs. “I’ll keep my word about that. But you oughta know: I can make my body behave, but my mind wanders to us rollin’ around bare-ass nekkid in my bed…pretty damn often actually.”

  Dinah turned her head and nipped his jaw. “Mine too.”

  That shocked him.

  And excited him.

  Mostly it sent his thoughts careening back to ones where they explored this mutual desire.

  She disentangled from him. “Stop distracting me. Go catch us a couple of rabbits and let me start making our supper.”

  Yep. She’d be as bossy with him as she was shy with others, and he wouldn’t have it any other way.

  Silas returned with two fat rabbits and a young wood duck.

  And he’d picked her a handful of wildflowers.

  She fussed over them as if he’d given her gold. After arranging the purple, yellow and orange blooms in a water-filled glass jar, she set it in the center of his table—which was now covered in a lace tablecloth.

  Already making her mark.

  Even though she’d left the door open, the scents of yeast and sugar filled the cabin.

  A tray of biscuits cooled on the table beneath the window, next to a creamy yellow pie and two apple scrambles she’d baked in the tin cups he’d bought at the picnic. A towel covered a loaf pan, which he could see held a mound of rising dough. A pot of water boiled on the stove and she’d left a pile of chopped carrots, snap peas and onion next to a dish of butter.

  Damn. The woman worked fast.

  “Smells great in here, darlin’.”

  “Thank you.” She slammed the cookstove door and straightened to face him. “Where are we skinning the rabbits?”

  “Outside by the handpump. Less messy. I filled the tubs with cold water.”

  It hadn’t occurred to him that Dinah wouldn’t be bothered by butchering until she mentioned she’d grown accustomed to seeing blood, bones and skin working with Doc.

  After cleaning up the rabbits and tacking up the skins on the sunny side of the barn to dry, he brought the pot of boiling water outside. He dunked the duck in it until the pin feathers were easier to remove. Since she’d never dealt with duck, he showed her all the ways waterfowl were different from domesticated chickens, including how to pluck them.
He gutted, cleaned and quartered the duck. Then he started the first step of rendering duck fat by plopping the pieces in his biggest cast iron pan with lard and salt and covering it with a lid. It’d take two days on the coolest part of the hot stove, but he swore the end result was worth the effort.

  Silas thought it was sweet she wrote down everything he told her.

  She scrubbed out the stockpot and began boiling water for one of the rabbits, casually mentioning if she had another pan, she could’ve fried up the other rabbit like chicken for Sunday lunch.

  Silas made a mental note to add that piece of cookware to his next Robinette’s order. He wouldn’t fret about the cost of all of this, he’d just…make up the difference somehow.

  While the stew cooked, they staked out a place for the root vegetable garden. Then they’d gone inside and she’d drawn out a basic design for the cold storage/root cellar, based on the ones Doc had. She sketched the spacing for the shelves next to the stove, where to place the hooks above the stove for pans, and even tacked a birds’ eye view of how her outline would utilize the most space.

  If he hadn’t already been in love with her, he would’ve surely fallen that afternoon. Working with her didn’t seem like work and she filled his house—and his heart—with lightness and joy.

  With the bread cooling and the stew simmering, they sat at the table. Silas poured them each a mug of beer from the growler he’d picked up at Sackett’s.

  Dinah was busy writing. She’d brought three different workbooks with her. One had lines like the ledger he used for ranch finances. One resembled a school primer—that’s where she’d rendered her drawings. The last one had a leather cover tooled with flowers. Fancier than the others, it also had a buckle and strap across the top and bottom to keep the stack of thick papers bound inside.

  Curious, he picked it up, only to have her try and snatch it back.

  “Don’t open that.”

  “What’s in here?”

  “None of your business.”

  “Recipes?”

  “No.” She held out her hand. “Give it back.”

  “Not until you tell me what it is.”

  “It’s my journal.”

  “Your teacher’s journal?”

  “No. It’s my personal journal.”

  “What do you write about?”

  “Everything.”

  A wide grin split his face. “I’m in here, ain’t I?”

  “Yes.”

  “How many times?”

  Dinah glared at him.

  He let loose a low whistle. “That many times, that you don’t wanna talk about it, huh? Woman, you’ve got it bad for me, doncha?”

  “No! But those thoughts are private, Silas.”

  “What did you write about me, darlin’?” He held it up as if contemplating the contents. “Is it poetry? You comparing my eyes to jewels and my manly form to one of them fancy marble statues like in the Vatican in Rome?”

  She snorted.

  “Or did you draw nekkid pictures of me?” He tipped his chin to the sketches sitting in front of her. “Because you are pretty good at drawin’.”

  “The only thing I’m gonna draw is my fist back, aimed at your face, if you don’t give me my journal right now.”

  He clucked his tongue. “So violent. Darlin’, I worry your temper is gonna lead you into ruin. First it’s just verbal threats and then next thing you know…you’re pickin’ a fight in church and throwin’ pews over some woman’s stupid comment about your hat.”

  “SILAS.”

  “All right. I’ll give it back. But only after you tell me one nice thing you wrote about me in here.”

  The woman smirked at him. “I wrote that you didn’t whine too much after Zeke West tried to rip your arm off.”

  His mouth dropped open. “Now that ain’t nice at all, Dinah”—he glanced at the journal cover and noticed her full name embossed on the bottom—“Louise Thompson.”

  Her nose wrinkled. “Don’t say that. I hate my middle name.”

  “Aw, Louise ain’t bad, sugar pie. It could be something worse like…Prudence.” He pointed to her mug of ale. “Or Temperance.”

  She cocked her head toward his bed. “Or Chastity.”

  Silas threw back his head and laughed. “Damn, woman, I love you.” When she didn’t retort with outrage or disbelief, he glanced over to see her entire body had gone stiff. “What?”

  “Do you mean that?” she said softly.

  He set the journal on the floor and said, “C’mere.”

  “Silas.”

  “Come. Here.”

  She stood and took the two steps to his chair.

  Silas tugged her onto his lap, parting her legs over his so she straddled him.

  Then his lips were on hers, kissing her with every bit of passion he’d tried to temper. Treating her to a drawn-out, teasing, wet, tongue-tangling, hungry clashing of mouths. His left hand clutched the nape of her neck while he used his right hand to outline her face. Stroking from her temple down her jawline and back up.

  But each caress went a little further. First to her chin. Then down her throat to the slope of her shoulder. Then lower to tease the swell of her breasts.

  She didn’t bat his hand away; instead, she arched closer.

  His cock went rigid beneath her. His heart beat so fast and loud in his ears he swore she had to’ve heard it. Could she feel his hardness throbbing in the cradle of her thighs where they were pressed together?

  Dinah’s fingers began to mimic his touch on her face. She wiggled her bottom against him and he groaned with need for more.

  Finally, he broke the kiss and trailed his lips down the path his fingers had traveled. When he sank his teeth into the upper curve of her bosom, blowing a warm puff of air through the cloth, she moaned.

  “Yes, I meant it,” he said against her chest as he tried to catch his breath. “You got a little prissy when I suggested I call you my intended after courtin’ for two days, so I figured you might act the same if I told you how bein’ with you fills me with joy and hope and purpose. I’ve never been in love, but I reckon this is how it feels.”

  “Silas.” She clamped her hands on his head, forcing him to meet her gaze. “Thank you.”

  “For?”

  “Not being afraid to tell me how you feel, even if it seems fast.” She outlined his lips with hers. “You listen to me. You teach me. You don’t mind I’m a little bossy even when I don’t always know what I’m doing. So I can admit…I’ve been sweet on you since you showed up at Doc’s. I love being with you because I like you more every time we’re together.”

  This sweet woman deserved better than a cash-poor rancher, but he couldn’t wait to prove she’d made the right choice by going all in with him. “Well, that’s handy, bein’s we’re gonna be married and all. In a goddamned year.”

  Dinah laughed.

  They stared at each other with their goofy love faces and he’d never been happier.

  “I got something for you,” he said after kissing her for a good, long time. “But I’m afraid I can’t give it to you until we settle a couple of things.”

  “What things?” she said, right back to wearing that cute look of skepticism that said he wouldn’t get away with nothin’ around her.

  “Your journal. Now darlin’, I suspect how this’ll go. You’ll fill that journal up. I’ll buy you a new one that has Dinah Thompson McKay on the bottom. Over the years I’ll keep buyin’ you fancier journals because I’ll secretly love how dedicated you are to putting our life together into words and writin’ it down on paper as our history for our family to read.” He pushed her hair over her shoulder. “My family’s history died with my parents. I have no idea about their families or the lives they led in Ireland. I don’t even know if McKay was the name they brought here or the name they gave themselves when they started anew. But you are changin’ that for future McKays. They’ll have a past to look to with pride.” He paused dramatically. “That said, darlin’,
I’m gonna insist you rewrite the incident that happened between me and Zeke. See, I can’t have anyone believin’ that lowlife bastard got the best of me. How’ll that make me look to my future kids, grandkids and great-grandkids?”

  “Oh, I don’t know…like you were an honest man?”

  He snorted. “No. I’ll come across as a lousy fighter. So when you rewrite that, you gotta say that it took Zeke and Zachariah West to take me down. And they broke my arm, not just sprained it.”

  “So I should leave in the part about Madam Ruby from the whorehouse dragging you to Doc’s?” she demanded hotly. “Because that’ll make you look like some kind of stallion to future McKay males?”

  “Jesus, Mary and Joseph, no. That part can stay out.”

  “Good. Then I will…revise it.” She raised an eyebrow. “Slightly.”

  Silas grinned. “There’s my girl.”

  “However, in the interest of fairness, I’ll expect if something happens that leaves me in an unflattering light, then I have the all clear from you to revise it.”

  “Only slightly,” he teased.

  She whapped his shoulder. “Now, you said you had something for me?”

  “Yep. Hang on.” He stood with her still on his lap and hiked her butt up higher so she could tighten her legs around his waist.

  “This is indecent,” she huffed.

  “You like it, sugar pie.”

  She buried her face in his neck. “You are insufferable.”

  “Mmm. You like that too.” He half dropped, half flung her on the bed. “Now cover your eyes.”

  Silas walked backward to Jonas’s side of the room and warned, “No peeking!” when he saw her hands move. He pulled the box out from Jonas’s wardrobe and brought it over, setting it beside her. “Okay. Now you can look.”

  Dinah opened her eyes. “Two gifts? Really? What did I do to deserve this?”

  He shrugged away his embarrassment. “I realized I like buyin’ stuff for you. Open it.”

  She undid the paper around the first gift and said, “The Red Badge of Courage by Stephen Crane.”

  “Have you read it?”

  “No. I wanted to, though.” She turned the book over in her hands. “Have you read it?”