by Sandy James
Sara was nibbling on her bottom lip, her fingers wet from the snow she’d plopped on him.
“Why, Mrs. Young... Are you perhaps teasin’ me?”
She nodded, still tugging at her bottom lip. He wasn’t sure if she was nervous and fearing she’d overstepped her bounds or trying to stifle a giggle.
“Then get ready for my revenge.” Hoping she’d see the fun in what he was about to do, he growled and charged. Dropping his shoulder, he grabbed her backside, lifting her. He arranged her like a sack of grain over his shoulder and headed for the door. “I reckon the best revenge is to give you your bath in a snow drift tonight.”
With a squeal, she slapped her hands against his back. “You wouldn’t dare!” Then she laughed, making him smile.
Caleb jerked the door open and strode out into the snow. It still fell heavily as he marched to the pile he’d made when he’d cleared the walkway to the house earlier in the day. He stopped and feigned flipping her into it.
Sara’s fingers dug into his flannel shirt as she tried to stay on his shoulder. “Caleb! No!”
“No?” He smacked her backside. “You started this. I’m only payin’ you back in kind.”
She squirmed against him. “I’m sorry. I thought you’d find it amusing.”
“I did,” he admitted.
Her gasp echoed around them. “And you still think to toss me into the snow?”
Easing her from his shoulder, Caleb set her on her feet. When he noticed she was shivering, he took her into his arms and settled his mouth on hers.
There was something different in her kiss, a wealth of emotion that had been absent before. She was the first to deepen the exchange, slipping her tongue into his mouth and lazily rubbing it across his.
Despite the cold, he’d have been content to stand there all night. But Sara trembled, and while he hoped it was from passion inspired by the kiss, he wasn’t about to make that assumption. He broke away and swept her into his arms. “Fun’s over for now. Need to get you warm again.”
Back inside the house, he brushed the snow from her hair and shoulders. Damn, but she was a beautiful woman. Her cheeks were rosy from the cold, and her eyes sparkled as she smiled up at him in a way that made his cock harden.
Sara could see Caleb’s confusion. Not only was it plain in his eyes, but as he stared at her, he’d tilted his head like a curious child.
She’d come to an important decision.
It was time to allow her husband to truly share her bed.
He’d been so kind, so gentle. He’d shown her pleasure that she’d never dreamed possible, but it cost him. Not that he was rude to her or took out his sexual frustration on her. No, he was almost too kind, too solicitous.
Yet she could feel the depth of his desire. He was a passionate man, and he deserved a true wife, one who gave him everything she had to give. She was so very lucky to have him as her savior, and she was ready to offer him her body freely. In all honesty, she wanted to see if the delights he’d shown her with his fingers and his mouth would be half as sweet when he claimed her with his body.
The bad memories were fading more and more with each passing day in Caleb’s company. Her nightmares had ended. Having him hold her close through the long, chilly nights kept her demons at bay, and Sara dared to hope the past would stay in the past.
While on the road to accepting Caleb, she’d also achieved a peace she’d never expected. She’d begun to forgive herself. She no longer thought of herself as a whore, nor did she constantly berate herself for having been forced into working at The Palace. The only taint preventing her from assigning her past to nothing but harmless memories was the anger. She couldn’t seem to shed her hatred for Jean-Claude setting her in Crazy Kate’s control.
Perhaps one day...
For now, Sara wanted to explore her growing feelings for Caleb and to make a good life for them on this wonderful farm. Their marriage was the most important thing in her life, and the time had come to accept her husband as her lover.
Rising on tiptoes, she stretched her arms around his neck and kissed him again. Their tongues lazily mated, a thrust and parry that sent her head spinning. When they finally ended the kiss, she was thrilled he was panting for breath. To her surprise, she was as well.
“Need to get outta those wet clothes, sweetheart,” he said, smoothing his knuckles against her cheek.
“So should you,” she said. She grasped the top button of his shirt and opened it. Then she popped the second.
“What are you doin’?”
“I’m helping you get out of this wet shirt.” She opened two more buttons.
Caleb pressed her hands flat against his stomach. “Sara... Honey, you go change first. Get out of them wet clothes, put on a warm nightgown, and get in bed. I’ll join you in the bedroom soon.”
Sara fisted his loose shirt in her hands and tugged. “How about you join me in the bedroom now?”
He groaned as he dropped his chin to his chest.
She nudged his face back up so she could see his eyes. “I am quite serious, husband. I–I am...ready. Ready for more than sleeping at your side.”
His gaze searched hers and his fingers dug into her hips. “Ready? Sara, are you sayin’—” He breathed a sigh and shook his head.
“Am I saying what, Caleb?”
“Sara, it ain’t right to tease a man. Not about...that. I want you too much to stand it.”
“I assure you that I am not teasing you.” She pulled her arms back, took his hand in hers, and led him to the bedroom door. “And I want you too. I want to be your wife in every way.”
“You’re sure?”
“I want you, Caleb.”
Caleb’s mouth was on hers as he embraced her. His tongue thrust into her mouth while his hands rubbed her back, moving slowly lower.
Heat bloomed between her thighs. By giving her time and showing her the way he could make her body sing, her husband had done more than teach her to trust him. He’d freed a part of her that she’d never known before—the passionate Sara who now yearned for his touch.
His hands settled on her backside, pulling her hard against his groin. She wiggled against him, no longer dreading the feel of an erection. Instead, knowing she’d pulled that reaction from his body made her heart pound and her blood run hot.
Sara wriggled her hands between them, tugging his shirt from the waist of his pants, needing to touch him, to feel his skin beneath her fingertips.
As she tried to strip his clothes, he returned the favor, tugging her blouse apart so roughly, the pearl buttons popped off, skittering across the floor.
A loud pounding at the door interrupted their interlude.
Sara froze, fear snaking through her like ice water in her veins. No one had ever come calling without an invitation, and someone arriving so late could only be bad news. “Gideon, perhaps?” she whispered, struggling for an explanation.
Turning her loose, Caleb strode to the door as he stuffed his shirt back into his waistband. He grabbed the rifle he always left propped behind the coat tree. “Who’s there?”
Someone shouted an answer, but she couldn’t hear from so far away. She busied herself with trying to right her blouse, a difficult task considering she’d lost several of the buttons.
Caleb opened the door, sending snow swirling inside as a man stepped through, too bundled up in a knit scarf and hat for her to identify.
“Damn, Adam,” Caleb said. “You’re gonna freeze to death.”
Adam. This had to be Adam Morgan, a man Caleb had told her a lot about. The stories showed how much her husband admired the older man, and she worried that she’d be meeting someone so important to Caleb in such disheveled clothing.
She tried to scurry inside the bedroom, hoping to quickly change her blouse, but a shout stopped her. “Wait!”
“Sir?” she asked, whirling to face him as her skirts swished around her ankles.
He started unwrapping the scarf, revealing a kind face ruddy from
the cold. “Are you Sara?”
“I am.”
“Sara,” Caleb said, taking the scarf from Adam. “This is Adam Morgan.”
She inclined her head. “It is my pleasure to meet you, Mr. Morgan.”
“Adam,” he said, plucking the thick knit cap from his head. His short hair stood on end, but she suppressed a smile at him being every bit as unkempt as she was. “Please.”
Clutching at the front of her blouse so it wouldn’t gape open, she hurried to Caleb’s side. “Might we inquire what has brought you to our home in such foul weather?” she asked, glad that the hard pounding of her heart had begun to ease. She was quite confident there was nothing to fear from Adam Morgan—at least according to her husband.
She trusted Caleb.
Completely.
Although she should’ve been amazed or at least perplexed by that startling revelation, Sara simply gave her head a little shake. Now wasn’t the time to ponder such a momentous change, nor was she willing to explore what tender feelings might lie beneath that trust.
“Ty sent me,” Adam replied. He moved to the fire, warming his hands by rubbing them together.
“Why on earth would Ty send you here?” Caleb asked. He draped Adam’s scarf over a chair. “Especially on a night like this? The snow’s pilling up out there.”
Adam snorted. “Wasn’t a pleasant ride. That’s for damned sure.”
Her curiosity was killing her. “Then why—”
“Cassie,” he interrupted. “I came because of Cassie.”
That made no sense. Unless...
Her heart started slamming in her chest again as fear flooded her. “Has she become ill?” She put her hand on Caleb’s chest. “If she’s ill, I should go to her.”
Adam shook his head. “Cassie’s not ill, Sara. It’s her time. She’s taken to her childbed, and she begged me to fetch you to be with her when the baby comes.”
Chapter Eleven
Sara’s hands were so cold, she could barely open the door to Ty’s home. She shivered so hard her teeth chattered, and she longed to strip her coat, hat, scarf, and mittens and warm herself in front of a roaring fire.
“Cassie?” she called as she stepped inside.
“She’s in here!” Ty came stomping out of the bedroom. He set his hands against his hips and glared at her. “Took you long enough!”
Since it was next to impossible to have conversation with her face wrapped tight, Sara unwound the scarf, not surprised to find it caked with ice and snow.
The weather fought them the whole way. Adam had hitched his horse to a small sleigh to get them through the storm. Between the high winds and drifting snow, the ride had been treacherous. Had the trip been for a less important reason, Sara would have stayed home. But how could she refuse her new sister by marriage? Thankfully, Adam seemed adept at handling the horse and got them to their destination safely.
Now Sara understood why people from Montana tended to believe they were such sturdy folk. Rough winters had a way of making people strong.
Caleb remained behind to care for the animals, promising to follow in the morning to see how things were going. After the horrible trip through nearly blinding snow, Sara wished she had some way to contact her husband to tell him to stay home where he was safe and warm. Perhaps when he saw that the weather had taken a turn for the worse he’d reconsider. She had enough on her mind at the moment and hated to add worry for Caleb’s safety.
Her brother continued to glare at her as she removed her mittens and coat and set them on the back of a chair near the stove so they could dry. “We came as quickly as we could manage,” she said, rubbing her hands together. The stinging feel of the skin rewarming made her wince.
Ty grabbed her elbow and tugged her toward the bedroom. “Cassie needs you. Now.”
Sara had never seen her brother so rattled. Ty had always been a man who could hold his countenance. It took a lot to get him angry, but then his temper burned hot and fierce.
But fear?
That was new to her. Although he was dragging her like a naughty child about to be disciplined, she had to smile. Her brother obviously loved Cassie a great deal. Only his wife could throw Ty off center so effectively.
Cassie was on the bed, red-faced and panting for air. Sitting on the side of the bed was a woman who had one hand on Cassie’s swollen abdomen.
“It’s easing now,” the woman said, her voice soft yet full of confidence. “Rest until the next one comes on you. The pains are still a bit apart, so we might have a long night ahead of us.”
“Sara,” Cassie said, still a bit breathless. “You came.”
Ty gave Sara a nudge into the room. “Told you she’d come.” He went to the opposite side of the bed, sat down, and took Cassie’s hand in his. “Told you so,” he said again with a decisive nod.
With a wan smile, Cassie nodded in return. Then she closed her eyes and dropped her head against the pillows piled up behind her. “I’m sorry I can’t greet you properly, Sara.”
“Oh, pish-posh,” Sara said, coming closer. “You’re far too busy for pleasantries.”
The woman chuckled. She picked up a small cloth, dipped it in the pan of water, and wrung it out before laying it across Cassie’s forehead. Her gaze shifted to Sara. “You must be Sara Young.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“I’m Grace Morgan. I’m pleased to finally meet you. Ty has told us so much about you.”
Sara froze. Surely Ty had protected her secret. The welcome she saw in Grace’s eyes had to mean that she saw Sara as nothing more than Ty’s sister or Caleb’s wife. “I–I’m pleased to meet you as well.”
“Are you settling in on Caleb’s farm?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“You can call me Grace. I imagine helping Cassie through the birth of her child should suspend any formalities.” Her smile was welcoming. Dressed in a tan blouse—the sleeves rolled up to the elbow—and a brown skirt, she fussed over Cassie. “We’re here to help Cassie bring her baby into the world. She told me she really wanted to have her new sister at her side. It was good of you to brave the cold to come to her.”
“Of course I came. It was very kind of your husband to come out in this storm to fetch me, although I’m afraid I can offer nothing but moral support,” Sara admitted. “I have never attended a birth before.”
“I still think I should go for Doc Adams,” Ty insisted before kissing the back of Cassie’s hand. “I’m worried ’bout you, Cassie girl.”
Without even opening her eyes, Cassie shook her head. “We talked about this already, Ty. I’m fine. Grace has had two children, and I have Sara to hold my hand.”
“But—”
“I don’t want Doc Adams,” Cassie insisted. “I’m—” Her words ended on a grunt as she lifted her head from the pillow and squeezed her eyes shut.
Grace’s hand flew to Cassie’s abdomen. “Breathe through the pain, honey. They’re starting to come closer now, aren’t they?” She kept up pleasant chatter, probably trying to distract the expectant mother.
Not sure how to help, Sara went to where Ty sat at Cassie’s side. His face contorted as though he was in pain as well. “Ty? Are you ill?” Sara asked.
“She’s gonna break my hand,” he whispered, nodding toward where Cassie had a tight grip on him.
“Almost there, Cassie,” Grace said. “It’s easing, isn’t it?”
Cassie nodded but still bit hard at her bottom lip.
Sara’s heart went out to her, and she offered up a quick prayer that mother and baby come through the birth healthy. Cassie was so little. How could such a small woman bring a baby into the world?
“Ty,” Grace said, her voice calm as she took the cloth and refreshed it in the pan of water. “I think you should go and wait with Adam. I’m sure he’d welcome some brandy, and I imagine you could use some as well.”
“More like whiskey,” he snapped. Cassie had let go of his hand, and he shook it as if to return the circulation. “B
ut I can’t leave Cassie.”
“Yes,” Grace countered, “you can. It’s time for you to take your leave. Let us take care of Cassie.”
“But—”
Cassie cut him off with a curt order as she pointed at the door. “Go. Now.”
His gaze shifted from Cassie to Grace to Sara and back to Cassie. “Are you sure, Cassie girl?”
“Go. Now.”
Dragging his feet like a child being ordered to do his chores, Ty took his time following his wife’s command. At the door, he cast one more glance to his wife.
“Go on.” Grace shooed him away with a flip of her hand. “This is no place for a man.”
He closed the door behind him.
At loss for how to help, Sara took the place next to Cassie that Ty had vacated. “Why did you wish him to leave?”
Grace smoothed the wet cloth over Cassie’s face. “This is no place for a man,” she said again.
Cassie snorted. “I don’t want him seeing me like...like...this. In pain? Laid out on this bed like a fileted haddock? No thanks.”
Sara couldn’t help but chuckle at the imagery. “I suppose it is a bit...ignoble.”
“A fitting word,” Grace said. “Men don’t understand. They can’t deal with the pain. Or the blood.”
When Cassie clutched for her hand, Sara took it and stroked Cassie’s palm with her thumb. “But they aren’t the one in pain. What is there to handle?”
“Of course they’re not,” Grace replied. “Not only could men not tolerate the kind of pain childbirth brings, they cannot handle seeing a woman hurting so, nor can they deal with the rather messy side of having a baby.”
“D–does it hurt badly?” Sara asked. Her curiosity was tainted with her fear. Although she knew a bit of how a child came into the world, she’d never quite accepted exactly how the child made his way from his mother’s body. The notion of a child’s head emerging from...there?
Impossible.
“It’s hard to describe.” Cassie relaxed against the pillows again. “But it’s no picnic.”
Grace smoothed her fingers across Cassie’s cheek. “As soon as you hold your son in your arms—”
