Daniel's Desire (8 page)

“Maybe while we’re here Jacob can do some chores for you. I’m sure you’re havin’ a hard time since Hans passed, and with you having that injury, and all.”

As usual, Jacob remained quiet, letting his wife prattle on. It amazed Rosemarie how he put up with it.

“Mama, Mr. a’Coy sent me to fetch some water.” Amelia rushed into the kitchen, one of Susan’s girls following in her wake.

Susan turned to Rosemarie, her eyebrows raised. “Who’s that?”

“Mr. McCoy. He, ah, is the hand I hired to help out for a while.”

“Really?” Susan turned to Jacob and nudged him in the elbow. “You better go see this Mr. McCoy, make sure he’s not a criminal.”

“No.” Rosemarie snapped. “Sorry.” She turned to Jacob. “There’s no need to trouble yourself, Jacob, he’s been here for a while now, sleeping in the barn, and won’t be much longer. He just needed some work, and then he’ll be on his way.”

Jacob glanced at his wife. One look at her glare and he rose. “No problem, Miz Wilson. It would be a good thing to take a look at the man.” He slapped his hat on his head and left the house.

“Really, Rosemarie, how could you allow a strange man to stay in your barn? And with three children? Why, he could be dangerous.” She touched Rosemarie’s hand to stop her from arranging biscuits on a blue and white flowered plate and leaned in close. “You know,” she whispered, “I had a visit from some soldiers who were looking for a Rebel who escaped from prison!”

Rosemarie’s heart thudded. Although no longer in a Confederate uniform, once Daniel opened his mouth, Jacob would know he was a Southerner. She’d had another visit herself from Captain Nelson and his men, and got the distinct impression he knew Daniel was here. Luckily, that day Daniel had been away from the farm on the horse he’d stolen, hunting deer. The way things stood, he’d have to leave soon for his own safety.

Susan prattled on while Rosemarie kept her ear cocked, waiting for Jacob to rush in and announce that the Wilson farm harbored an escaped prisoner. No matter how much she strained, all she heard was the laughter and excited shouts of her children playing with the McDonough children.

After what seemed like hours, Susan stood, shaking out her skirts. “Well, land sakes, I don’t know where Jacob has gotten himself off to, but I have to get home and start my supper.”

The two women walked to the front door, Rosemarie with visions of Jacob tied up in the barn and Daniel miles away. Even though she knew that day would arrive, and most likely very soon, the thought of him leaving tightened a knot in her stomach.

Ever since the night a week ago, when he’d returned and kissed her with a passion she’d never felt before, things between them had shifted. After his last kiss, he’d pulled away from her, ran his knuckles down her cheek, and left the room. The longing in her body kept her awake most of that night. She’d been embarrassed to admit to herself she wanted more. More of his kiss, his touch.

The next morning, she took extra pains with her hair, made sure she wore a clean apron. Then she laughed at herself. What was she doing? Daniel had a life to return to, if he wasn’t recaptured first. She was a plain, work-worn mother of three children. Obviously, nine years with Hans had left her aching for tenderness and caring. But this was not the man, nor the time, to imagine she’d found it.

But one glance at Daniel when he’d arrived at her bedroom door the next morning to help her into the kitchen twisted her emotions. His warm smile and strong arms as he scooped her up and carried her down the hallway had her heart thumping again.

More than once, she’d caught a hunger in his eyes, right before he shifted his gaze away. If it hadn’t been for the distraction of the children, and the exhaustion of trying to work while her leg healed, she feared she would have done something foolish. Daniel was a hunted man, and it would serve her well to remember that.

No longer using the walking stick, Rosemarie hobbled to the front door. A sense of relief swept over her as Jacob and Daniel made their way from the barn to the house. She and Susan joined them as they reached the bottom of the porch steps.

“Seems like your man here has things under control,” Jacob said as he slapped Daniel on the back. “The barn’s clean, the wood’s piled up, and it looks like he’s getting your garden ready for plantin’ in a few weeks.”

“Where are you from?” Susan peered at Daniel, her eyes narrowed.

Jacob chuckled. “Won’t do you any good to ask him questions, Susan. The man can’t talk. He’s been doing some kind of sign language thing with me, but I figured out what he was sayin’.”

Rosemarie bit the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing.

Can’t talk? Doing sign language?

“Well, I declare. I never met anyone who did the sign language thing.” Susan turned to Rosemarie. “How do you manage to get him to work?”

Rosemarie kept her gaze from Daniel, knowing she’d burst out laughing if she looked at him. “It’s not hard, actually, I just sort of point to things, and he knows what to do.”

Daniel gave the woman a small salute, and turned toward the barn. Susan followed him with her eyes. “I don’t know that I could be around someone who didn’t talk.”

“No worry, you would do enough talking for the both of you.” Jacob turned and shouted for his children, who raced around the yard, chasing Missy, Amelia’s barn cat.

“No, David, leave my kitty alone.” Amelia ran after the ten-year-old boy, her arms outstretched.

Daniel stopped and squatted. The cat ran to him, and he scooped her up. He glared at David as he handed the cat to Amelia and ruffled her hair.

“Well, your children certainly seem comfortable. Him being a stranger, and all.” Susan sniffed and headed to the wagon where four children scrambled up, pushing and shoving each other.

• • •

Within a few days, Rosemarie could hobble around well enough to do most of her chores. Daniel did quite a bit of hunting, skinned rabbits and deer, cut the larger animals into chunks, and stored them in the smokehouse. More than once, he found it necessary to revisit the tunnel under the house when Captain Nelson made what was becoming his routine visit.

With the help of the two younger children, Rosemarie managed to do laundry. Daniel set up the tubs for her in the mudroom, heated the water, and carried it. The children gathered all the dirty clothes, and Rosemarie sat while she washed and rinsed them. Then Daniel would hang them on the clotheslines Hans had strung up years ago, joking with Chandler about how important it was for men to do women’s work when they needed to. Somehow, she couldn’t picture Hans doing laundry, no matter how far behind she got.

Daniel took Chandler hunting with him, and her son stood tall when they returned with two rabbits that he’d shot. “I told you I could take care of ya, Ma.”

“Yes, I see that.” She held back her laughter, enjoying the moment with Daniel as he smiled behind Chandler’s back at the boy’s pride.

Now that they had plenty of meat, supper was the time Rosemarie enjoyed the most. With chores completed, Daniel and the children would wash up, then they all hurried to the table, hankering for food.

• • •

The early spring sun dipped behind the barn, casting the yard and small house in dusky shadows. It had been another long day, but Rosemarie was happy with her accomplishments. Each day she grew stronger, and as thankful as she was for her health, the niggling thought in the back of her mind that Daniel would soon leave them dampened her spirits.

“Can I help you finish up?” Daniel stood at her back, watching her scoop stew into a bowl. His nearness, and the smell of the soap he’d used to wash up, wafted over her. Her stomach did funny little jiggles every time he came near.

“If you want to pour milk for the children that would help.” She took a deep breath as he moved away. Rosemarie chided herself. This was crazy, she was an older, widowed mother of three. There was no place in her life for these feelings. Lt. McCoy had merely helped them over a rough spot.

Since when is he Lt. McCoy? Since I know he’s leaving. Very soon.

After placing the large bowl of stew in the center of the table, Rosemarie returned with the loaf of fresh baked bread and butter from the cold pantry. Daniel poured the milk for the children and cold water from the pump for both adults.

As they all settled in, hands joined, heads bowed, they thanked the Lord for their food. Rosemarie let her gaze roam over the group. Her children’s faces were flushed red from their playtime in the cold air, and they ate with enthusiasm. Daniel discussed the fine art of whittling with Chandler, while Amelia hung on to his every word. Jace, his eyes heavy with fatigue, spooned the stew into his mouth.

Don’t get used to this. Regardless of how he makes you feel, remember, this is all temporary. Daniel doesn’t belong here.

• • •

Daniel explained whittling to Chandler, all the while aware of Rosemarie across the table from him. Each time he’d glanced in her direction, she would shift her eyes, a slight flush on her cheeks. Had her feelings also grown over the past week?

Once recovered from the worst of her infection, the dark circles under her eyes disappeared and the sunken look to her cheeks filled out. She was truly a beautiful woman, even after years of hard work and bearing three children. Her full breasts, hidden under her work dresses and aprons, would fill his hands nicely. Earlier, as he watched her walk from the house to the barn, even with her slight limp, her hips swayed enticingly enough to cause him to re-adjust his trousers.

Her soft voice as she read to her children at bedtime each night brought a sense of happiness and security he’d had as a child when his stepmother did the same with him and Stephen. His gut twisted when he remembered the present time and place. Nothing had changed.

They’d hidden the horse he’d stolen from the soldiers in the back of the barn, only letting him out to exercise, always concerned someone would ride up and ask questions. As much as he hated to admit it, the time grew near for him to leave.

“Mr. McCoy, when the weather gets warmer, will you take us fishing?” Chandler wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

“Fishing.” Jace nodded.

“Can I come, too?” Amelia asked.

Daniel pushed his plate away and leaned his forearms on the table. “I have to return to my regiment very soon.”

“What’s a regiment?” Chandler wrinkled his forehead.

“That’s the group of soldiers I’m fighting the war with.” Daniel glanced over at Rosemarie. She placed her spoon alongside her bowl and folded her hands in front of her, eyes downcast.

Amelia left her chair and climbed onto Daniel’s lap. “I don’t want you to fight in a war.” She stuck her fingers in her mouth and rested her head on his chest.

His large hand smoothed her golden brown curls. “Sometimes we have to do things we don’t want to do.”

The little girl raised her soft blue eyes to him. “Like go to bed?”

He chuckled and hugged her. “Yes, like going to bed.”

“Speaking of bed, it’s time you all got washed up and into your nightshirts.” Rosemarie pushed away the food that had turned to dust in her mouth. She stood and began collecting dishes.

Amid groans, the three children left the table and headed down the hallway.

• • •

“I love listening to you read stories each night.” Daniel slid over on the settee to give Rosemarie room to sit as she returned to the parlor.

“A habit my mama started when we were all young.” She settled next to him. Very little pain radiated from her wound. In a day or so, she would be back to normal. And there would be no reason for Daniel to remain.

Her heart thumped. When had she gone from despising the idea of having another husband to wishing this man could somehow fill that role? So different from her father and husband, Daniel McCoy was all that a man should be. He’d made her realize a man could be strong, but tender. Since he could have easily left days ago, the silent message he spoke warmed and chilled her at the same time. He wanted more, too.

“You’ve never spoken much about your family. Tell me about them. Do you have brothers or sisters?”

Rosemarie smiled, happy for the distraction from her troubling thoughts. “We were seven daughters. Papa was not happy with all the girls.” She turned toward him, her elbow leaning on the top of the settee, her head resting in her cupped hand. “In fact, he thought all those females were punishment from the Lord for something he’d done wrong in his youth.”

Daniel grimaced. “That must have hurt.”

She shrugged. “When you grow up with that attitude, it doesn’t seem as bad as it does to someone hearing it for the first time.”

“Are you among the oldest, the youngest?”

“I was the last one. Like the rest of my sisters, when I turned thirteen, Papa sent me out to work. I was lucky, though, to work for Mr. Oliver Morton, who was a judge at the time, and now our governor. He’s a real nice man.”

“And how did you end up married to Hans Wilson?”

Even after all these years, her stomach still clenched when she remembered that day. “Papa came to the judge’s house when I was fifteen and told me he’d arranged for me to be married.”

Daniel’s brows rose. “Fifteen?”

Rosemarie nodded. “One year older than the sister before me.”

Daniel blew out a low whistle.

“It wasn’t so bad. I have three beautiful children.”

“Yes, you do.” Daniel moved closer and twirled a strand of hair that had fallen from her bun. “Makes sense, since they have a beautiful mother.”

She studied his lips as he spoke, then raised her eyelids until her gaze met his. Her heart thundered at the hunger in his eyes. “I don’t feel beautiful,” she whispered.

“Oh, but you are.” Daniel lowered his head, brushed his lips over hers. When she sucked in a quick breath, he pulled her closer and took possession of her mouth, probing her lips with his tongue. His palms skimmed over her curves, lightly at first, then with firmness, his fingers massaging her slim shoulders and her back muscles.

Rosemarie leaned into his hard body, her breasts crushed against his chest. Never before had she felt this heart-stopping desire. Her head spun, and her woman’s core ached with need. To have him touch her, to feel his work roughened hand against her naked skin.