Dorothy Garlock - [Wyoming Frontier] (39 page)

Mara was about to cry and desperately choked back the tears. She went back to the kitchen, left the lamp on the table and hurried up the stairs to her room. With trembling fingers, she lit a candle. After she closed the door, she leaned against it. What did it mean? Had Pack chosen the things for her home? Did it not occur to him that
she
should have had that privilege?

Mara washed, removed the pins from her hair and plaited it into one long, thick braid. Her pride had been dealt a blow and the pain was immense. She gritted her teeth against it, slipped the nightdress over her head, blew out the candle and got into the bed. Then and only then did she allow the tears to come. She cried silently and agonizingly, unable to control the turmoil that filled her mind.

The Lord never puts more burdens on a person than he is
able to bear.
Brita had said that once when she was in pain and Mara had stood helplessly by watching her suffer. How long would it be, she asked herself, before her pain and humiliation eased? And this other thing . . . this awful attraction she felt for him. He was insufferably arrogant and bossy and it brought out a childish side of her own nature that she hadn’t known existed. Their relationship had deteriorated to a point where it was beyond redemption.

Mara didn’t even wonder if he would come to sleep with her. She
knew
he would. How was she going to cope with it? She moved to the far side of the bed, turned to face the wall and prayed for sleep. At the first sound of his footsteps on the stairs, she began to quiver. He opened the door quietly and pushed it back against the wall. Several minutes passed while she lay tense, listening to him remove his clothes. By the time he was in the bed, she was hanging onto the far edge.

“Mara Shannon, I know you’re not asleep. Come here, honey.”

He reached for her. She hit at his hands.

“No! I don’t want you here. Get out of my bed!”

Strong hands flipped her over. Strong arms pulled her to him. “I told you last night what to expect. I’m holding you in my arms every night. We may fight during the day, but when night comes, I’m holding you.”

“But I don’t want you here.”

She placed her fists against his muscled chest and pushed with all her strength, but he didn’t budge. She could feel his breath on her face. He pulled her closer until her breasts were flattened against his chest. His skin smelled cool, soapy, and was damp from washing. She stopped resisting his superior strength. She was too confused and too weak to cope with all the anger and disappointment inside her.

“It’s going to take time for us to get used to living with each other.”

“A lifetime won’t be long enough.”

“If you’re not going to try, we’ll just have to be miserable.”

“I’ve never been more miserable in my life.”

“It’s not been a very happy day for me, either.”

“Oh, wasn’t Miss Candy Camp nice to you today?” She pushed with all her strength and kicked his shins.

“Mara Shannon! Stop it!” He captured her thighs between his and held her so tightly she could scarcely move even though she had wedged her arm between them in an effort to hold herself away from him. When she stopped struggling, he began to cover her face with soft kisses. “Are you ready to listen to me? I’m only going to say this one time. I’ve not been unfaithful to you. Like my mother, I’ll honor my marriage vows. Candy and I were friends, more than friends. We were lovers. But that’s all over now. She’s a mature, understanding woman—”

“And I’m not!”

“When I was in town yesterday, I told her that I was married and that I would not be calling on her again.”

“I bet that was a shock.”

“She understood.”

“Poor Miss Camp lost her lover!” Mara said scathingly. “I bet she wishes she had two thousand acres of land instead of a saloon.” Mara knew, even before Pack went suddenly still, that she had gone too far, that what she had said was childish and hateful. Tears of regret tightened her throat. “Pack, I’m sorry,” she whispered.

He said nothing at all. The arms holding her loosened. He gently moved her thighs from between his and rolled onto his back.

“That was a mean and hateful thing to say.” Words tumbled out of her. “You didn’t deserve it. It’s my fault. All of it. You didn’t want to be tied down to this place . . . to me . . . but I pushed you into it.”

He remained quiet. Desperately she pressed herself to his side, her hand caressing his chest, combing through the hair. Unknowingly her nails scraped his male nipples, causing him to stop breathing. Her hand moved up to his throat, and higher to cup his cheek with her palm. She turned his head toward her. Their noses collided. Her wet eyelashes scraped his face. Misery choked her.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t carry on about it.” His voice held no anger, only resignation.

“I don’t want you to be hurt!” In a fever to make up for her cruel words, she trailed her lips along his jaw. “I don’t know what gets into me. I never said mean, hateful things until I met you.”

“Forget it and go to sleep.”

Tears made her voice ragged, but there were things she wanted to say before she broke into sobs.

“I can’t forget it! These feelings are new to me, Pack. I . . . feel things I’ve never felt before. It’s like I’m groping in the dark. I’m edgy and weepy and I’m . . . jealous.” She couldn’t hold back the sobs any longer.

Pack would never know what it cost her to make that admission, and she would never know the joy that flowed through him on hearing her words. Love, pure, shining and forgiving, shattered his determination to put space between them. His arms reached for her, enclosed her gently, and his tongue licked her tears.

“It’s all right.”

“No. I’ve turned into something I don’t like. I’m ornery, waspish, sharp-tongued and hateful.”

“You’re also sweet and honest. Hush, hush, little love, don’t cry.”

She moved her head and found his mouth waiting for hers. She kissed him deeply, opening her lips, tasting the heat, the hunger and the sweetness of his mouth. She hadn’t expected this wild hunger in herself and was powerless to stop it. Her arms strained him to her, her senses spun wildly when she felt the shudder that went through him when her tongue boldly entered his mouth. She loved him, and nothing else mattered.

“Love me like you did last night,” she whispered anxiously, tearing her mouth from his.

“Ah, love, kiss me.”

She did. She moved her lips lovingly over his mouth and felt his body shift, tighten, tremble. She kissed his mouth, his chin, his eyes. Feverishly, she kissed him with her mouth closed and with it open. She slid her tongue along his lower lip as he had done to her the night before. Hands, soft and sure, moved over his back and down to caress his buttocks. She didn’t care if he thought she was bold; all she wanted was to be closer to him, to erase the bitterness that had been between them. Inside her a writhing, burning desire sent messages of an emptiness that begged to be filled.

A ragged, raspy breath broke from him. He turned her onto her back and impatiently flipped her nightdress up and over her head because he couldn’t bear for anything to be closer to her than he was. He ran his hands over her naked flesh, from her smooth shoulders to her knees, as if he had to make sure that all of her was there. His features were strained. He was a man on the verge of agony. She was a woman wild with hunger for her man.

He hung over her, then moved into the cradle between her thighs. Her hands glided over his upper body, feeling the power of his shoulders and back. He groaned deeply in his chest, his lips sought her breast, found it, and pulled the nipple into his mouth. His nose nuzzled the soft mound, his lips greedily sucking on the small bud. His tongue was rough and strong and pulled at her inner being. He was no longer gentle; she no longer wanted him to be.

A thin whimper broke from her lips, not a cry of protest, but of intense pleasure. His mouth on her breast intensified the sexual hunger that throbbed at the core of her femininity. And then his hand was there, in that place, cupping, touching, stroking, probing. His fingers slipped inside and were doing things to her that made her roll her hips toward him, cease to exist as a person; she was only want and need and aching emptiness. His mouth moved up to her mouth, leaving her wet nipple to nestle in the rough hair on his chest. His hands cupped her buttocks and ground her soft mound against the elongated sex that had sprung up, hard and ready, tortured with the desire to be home inside her soft body.

Mara felt the pressure and the aching need inside her was almost more than she could stand. Her fingers dug into his tight buttocks. She feared she would shatter if he did not fill her soon.

“Pack, please,” she whimpered.

“Please what?”

“You . . . know. I can’t . . . bear it.”

One of his hands came up and tightened almost savagely in her hair. She was completely helpless against his strength. He stared down at her, his face hard and taut.

“I told you last night,” he growled in a raspy voice, “that when you want me, take me in your hand and bring me to you. That’s the only way I’ll ever go inside you.”

Her hands left his buttocks, worked their way between their tightly pressed bodies and grasped him. He lifted his hips. For a long moment her two hands held him cradled between them. The loving gesture sent his heart into an odd little dance that left him gasping. And then, in a movement that was almost more than he could endure, she rubbed the tip of him back and forth across the taut skin of her belly before she guided him to the entrance between her thighs. He entered fully, with one quick thrust, into the mysterious, dark, tight haven.

“Ahhh,” he sighed in pleasure.

“Ohh . . . yes, yes!” She gasped at the exquisite pain as her body stretched to accept him.

He withdrew and stroked, seeking to be planted deeper.

She caught her breath and held it.

They clung together like two lost souls floating above the clouds. He delved deeper and deeper, seeking more and more gratification. Her pleasure mounted until she thought it had surely reached its heights. They rocked together, consumed by the demand for fulfillment. He held her tightly, slid in and out of her slowly, deeply, sweetly, using all his strength to hold back his own release, because he wanted it to go on and on, because he wanted always to be deep inside her, because he wanted to feel the ecstasy ripple though her body.

Mara’s body stiffened with pleasure so intense that she had to bite her lips to hold back a scream. Even then small, fragmented cries rode out on uneven breaths. Pack felt the tiny tremors deep inside her. It had started for her.

“I . . . love . . . I love you,” she cried, trying to control the words that burst from her mouth.

Dimly he heard her words. His control burst into a shattering release.
I love you, I love you, I love you.
The words beat against his mind as his body shook with wave after wave of pleasure. With all his strength he locked himself so deeply within her that his pleasure and hers were like one.

“You’re mine, mine, mine, mine,” he whispered savagely.

They lay silently for long moments, simply holding each other, awed into silence by the bliss they had found together. Pack rolled onto his side, bringing her with him. When he spoke, he placed the tip of his nose against her.

“I give a part of myself to you each time. I am yours and you are mine.”

A long sigh escaped her. “I know. I could feel you all through me. You touched my very soul.”

His fingers brushed the tangled curls around her ears. His mouth played with tender warmth upon hers.

“Sweetheart, I’m not a polished, educated man. At times I think I’ve done you an injustice by marrying you. But I’m a selfish lout! I wanted you. I only hope that in the days, months, years ahead you’ll not come to be ashamed of the man you married.”

“Oh, Pack! You must never think that. Polished and educated isn’t everything. Papa once said you had plenty of common sense. You have principles or you’d not have felt responsible for me.” The words came shivering and sweet from her throat. Her lips caught his and clung, released and caught again. Her kiss spoke not of passion, but of newly discovered love. “And . . . I love you,” her whispered words came haltingly.

“Mara Shannon, sweetheart, ye dinna be knowin’ what ye’re sayin’.” What common sense he had left him. He lapsed into the Irish brogue without being aware of it.

“I do be knowin’, Pack Gallagher. Ye dinna need to be tellin’ me what’s in me own heart,” she mocked him gently.

“Don’t tease me, love!” he warned.

“I’m not teasing,” she murmured between quick breaths. Tears glistened in the corners of her eyes. “I’ve known for some time that I had a special feeling for you . . . I’ll not burden you with it.”

“Oh, God! Oh, sweetheart!” With his face buried in the softness of her auburn hair, his words tumbled over each other. “I couldn’t believe it when you said it before. I was sure you didn’t know what you were saying. I love you so much, I’ve not been able to think of anything else. Do you really love
me?
” His mind was empty of everything but her. His lips covered her face, stopping at each closed eye to feel the flutter of it, moved down her nose to lips that waited, warm and eager. “Say it again, sweetheart. Say it again.”

“I love you.”

“And I love you.”

They talked, laughed, kissed. He held her wrapped in his arms while they whispered nonsense to each other.

“Who picked out the things downstairs?” she asked, as if suddenly remembering them. She felt now that she could ask him anything.

“I did. If there’s anything there you don’t want, we can take it back.”

“You picked out all those things?”

“I had to have something to do while Sam was with his friend and Judge Moore.”

“Pack?” She leaned over him and rested her chin on his chest. Her hair spilled over onto his shoulders. “Do you think Sam and Emily are as happy as we are?”

His hand moved up to the back of her head and pulled her lips up to his. “Nope. No one could be as happy as I am right this minute . . . or as horny,” he said between kisses. He lifted her and settled her on top of him, cradled her between his thighs, trapping his hardness between his firm belly and her soft one.