Harlequin Historical February 2014 - Bundle 1 of 2: The Major's Wife\To Tempt a Viking\Mistress Masquerade (8 page)

Her relieved sigh was probably heard in Texas, but it did little to ease his apprehension.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

She needed his protection. That's all this was. He repeated the justification as he reached over and turned down the lamp wick, and then, as if it was the most natural thing on earth, he slid an arm beneath her neck and tugged her close. “Come here.”

She stiffened, but only for a moment, and then rolled onto her side to snuggle against him, resting her head on his shoulder and her hand on his chest, right over his thudding heart. This time he did swallow hard, for something deep inside called a warning, while another part of him rejoiced. He slipped his free hand beneath the covers and cupped her hip to hold her in place.

“Better?” he asked.

“Much,” she whispered. “Much, much better.”

“Good. Go to sleep now, it's late.”

“How late is it?”

“After midnight.”

“I was trying to stay awake, to wish you good-night.”

Her hand was playing havoc on his already heated body as her fingertips teased and parted the hair on his chest. “You can say it now,” he whispered, as hoarse as a frog with a cold.

“Good night, Seth.”

“Good night, sweetheart,” he answered. This was crazy. He should have heeded the warning. Or he should crawl out of the bed now, while he still could. Her leg had curled up and one knee was resting on his thigh, awfully close to the other part of his body that was growing more eager by the second. He'd never wanted a woman as badly as he wanted her, as thoroughly. Had never reacted to anything this way. Even in the heat of battle his heart hadn't raced like this. Furthermore, patience wasn't his best virtue, and right now he found himself wishing she was Rosemary. Wishing he could be sure. Actually, her name didn't matter. Truth was he'd gotten caught in his own snare. He was no longer pretending. Might never have been. He wanted her, this beautiful woman that the entire fort was talking about. His wife.

Millie couldn't quite grasp what was happening inside her. The fear of the snake—though she'd never been more afraid in her life—was gone, and the way Seth called her sweetheart had her heart singing the sweetest tune imaginable. But beyond all that there was an energy building inside her that wouldn't slow down, and her breasts were on fire. They felt heavy and swollen. An odd thing for sure, and embarrassing to think about, but the sensation of being pressed against Seth heightened their sensitivity and consumed her thoughts. As did her leg. It was folded over his, and her inner thigh could feel the coarse fibers of his wool britches. She'd never experienced anything like this awareness before.

If it was possible, her body wanted to get even closer to him.

She wiggled slightly, pressing tighter against him. Her heart leaped as if rewarded when his hand, the one resting on her hip, slid upward, rubbing her side, and the stirring in her stomach increased as he kissed the top of her head.

Millie shifted, just to glance up. The room was dark, but she could see his smile. His blue eyes held hers for several quiet moments and then a wave of delight flooded her being as his face came down to meet hers.

His lips were tender and warm, and swept over hers so gently her lips chased after them. It was fun, and created a tiny giggle. He chuckled, too, and then softly bit her bottom lip. She laughed again.

It was unfathomable, but goodness gracious, wonderful. So much so that she copied his action. It was like a game of copycat, or hide-and-seek, that ended when his mouth completely covered hers. His lips were firmer, more precise, and his hand held the back of her head. Astounded, having never experienced anything so magnificent, she arched upward and pressed her mouth fully against his.

With her head spinning and her body flaming with an inner heat, all Millie could comprehend was that his kisses were all she'd ever wanted.

Or so she thought, until his hand glided to the edge of her breast. The sensation had her toes curling, and then his palm covered one, kneading it in a way that provided such bliss she couldn't contain the moan that bubbled in her throat.

His tongue had entered her mouth, and hers had leaped to life, twisted with his, and she didn't want it to stop. Didn't want any of it to end.

The heat and pressure building inside her was agonizing and wonderful at the same time. His body was so firm and hard beneath her fingertips, and a driving inner force had her scooting closer.

He stopped the kiss so abruptly she gasped, or maybe she was just breathless. She pulled air into her lungs as he kissed her forehead and then rested his chin on her head.

“We have to go to sleep. Now. Or we never will,” he whispered.

She nodded, not really sure why. There was no way she could sleep. Her very center was on fire, and her breasts were stinging, wanting him to touch them again. His hold was still strong, kept her firmly pressed against him, and she hoped—no, prayed—that he wouldn't let her loose. Not yet, or maybe not ever.

He rubbed the top of her head with his chin and stroked her side with his hand, and the actions were comforting, slowly allowing her to relax. But even as sleep crept in, Millie continued to relive the moment, over and over again. It had been extraordinary.

The next thing she knew was that she was alone in the bed.

Startled, she sat up. Sunlight was streaming in the window. Turning, she stared at the bed, half afraid she'd dreamed it all. There was a clear indentation in the pillow next to her and a smile formed as she recalled the comfort of his shoulder beneath her head.

“Good morning.”

Her gaze snapped to the doorway, where Seth was leaning against the frame, as handsome as ever, perhaps more so.

“Good morning.” Noting he was freshly shaved and fully dressed, she said, “I must have overslept.”

“You had a rough night.”

A frown pulled at her brows. It had been the most delightful night of her life.

“I have men coming over in an hour. They'll sweep the house for snakes.”

Her heart leaped, and she scanned the room.

A warm and gentle hand folded around her fingers. “Come on,” he said. “I'll take you back to your room so you can dress before the men arrive.”

Embarrassment at wearing nothing more than her bedclothes stung her cheeks, but she shook her head.

“All right,” he said, “just tell me what you need and I'll get it for you.”

She did, and he gathered it all, and then stood outside his closed bedroom door as she dressed. Her hands had never shaken so, and it had nothing to do with snakes. The fact that Seth had touched her private garments had her heart threatening to pound its way right out of her body. This should never have happened—him gathering her underclothes or her sleeping in his bed.

Once fully dressed, she fixed her hair and then straightened the bedcovers. Not sure what to do with her nightgown, Millie draped it over the footboard of the bed before moving to the door. Once the men had checked for snakes, she'd take it into her room, and make sure nothing like this happened again. Rosemary would be furious.

“Ready for breakfast?” Seth asked, holding out his arm as she opened the door.

Her heart did a complete cartwheel when he took her hand, but she managed to nod demurely. She couldn't pull away—she was his wife. But not really, so she shouldn't encourages such advances. Oh, good heavens, nothing made sense.

“Our food was just delivered,” he said as they walked down the hallway. “At least that's what I'm assuming. I heard the front door close.”

He was so very handsome, she could spend hours just looking at him and never tire of the sight, and when he smiled at her as he was right now, her insides turned all warm and soft, making her want to feel like this forever. That, too, was wrong and selfish, and she had to put a stop to it.

Once they were at the bottom of the stairs, she sought what she hoped was a safe subject. “Would you prefer I cooked our meals?” Cooking wasn't her best talent. Lola had made all the meals back in Richmond, but Mr. Ryan was sincerely kind, and he'd probably assist her if she asked.

Seth tugged her toward the kitchen. “I,” he said, leading her toward the table, “prefer that you do whatever you want. If you want to cook, cook. If you don't, don't.”

Sitting in the chair he held out, she glanced over her shoulder. “You don't even know whether I can cook or not.”

He paused, gazing at her curiously as he pushed her chair in. Her stomach flipped. Rosemary would never have offered to cook, and his look said he knew that.

“I have some things to see to this morning,” he said, after sitting down across from her and filling her cup with tea. “But this afternoon, I can take you over to see Jenkins. A cargo wagon pulled in a short time ago. Your boots might be in it.”

“Oh, I forgot about them,” she admitted. Shopping was something Rosemary would do. She lived for it. “I can go over there this morning. There's no need for you to take me. It's only across the compound.” She cut a piece of bread in half, thankful her insides were returning to normal—or as normal as they could be. “It'll give me something to do while the men look for snakes.”

“I can send Russ with you if you want.”

“That's not necessary,” she answered, pulling up Rosemary's tone. It chilled her to the bone, but it was the only thing she could do to still her heart and fulfill her purpose.

Chapter Seven

D
amn, he was tired of these eerie feelings. Fighting the urge to devour her all night had left him so full of frustration his skin was too tight. But right now, her tone sliced him deep, as did the set of her chin. Together they caused a peculiar inner instinct to kick in, as if he somehow knew a storm was brewing.

They finished the meal in silence and that irritated Seth even more. The shine was gone from her eyes, the glow from her cheeks. She was like a chameleon, changing her skin color to adapt to her surroundings.

A knock on the door had him pushing away from the table. The movement didn't help the knot in his stomach, the one that coiled itself around his spine until his back ached. That gut-wrenching sensation occurred whenever he was reminded of the old Rosemary, and nothing relieved it. Hadn't for years.

Aw, hell. He was putting too much thought into all this, that was the problem. This wasn't an Indian uprising, where he had to strategically consider every move, find a way to think ahead of his opponent. This was about one tiny woman. He had to quit questioning if she was Millie or Rosemary. He knew the answer to that. Carrying Rosemary to his bed would never have happened. Would never happen. Ever. His goal, to get to the bottom of why Millie was here, and send her home, hadn't changed. The fort was no place for her. She was too innocent for this untamed territory, and for him.

“Major? We're here to check for snakes.”

Shaking his head, Seth glanced up, half unaware he'd even opened the door. Stepping aside, he waved a hand. “Come in, Private.”

“Ma'am,” Kent Wickham said, clicking his heels together as he squared his shoulders and pulled the hat off his head.

From the archway between the two rooms, she nodded. “Good morning.”

The way her cheeks grew pink again when Seth caught her gaze had him clenching his teeth. Leaving as soon as possible was what would be best for everyone. The men were taking too much notice. Even in the simple dress, green with tiny white stripes, without lace or ruffles or other embellishments, she looked as stunning as a woman decked out in finery for a fancy ball. The form-fitting gown enhanced her slender figure, but it was more than that. Natural beauty hovered around her like a glow an artist painted around images of angels.

He'd discovered that something soft and whimsical swirled around his heart whenever he looked at her lately. A reaction he'd never before experienced, and that worried him. Almost as much as what had happened last night worried him. He had a fort to oversee and couldn't afford to be distracted. He certainly couldn't afford to take Millie's innocence.

Two other privates greeted her as they entered, and Seth quickly explained the situation last night, before he moved to where she stood in the archway as the searchers went upstairs.

He was a military man, had embraced that choice for years. But when it came to spending time with her or carrying out his duties, resentment toward his obligations tended to flare up. That had never happened before and couldn't happen now. Things were precarious out here, and needed his constant attention. Per-Cum-Ske was insistent upon going to Washington, and that was what needed Seth's focus right now. He should have been at it an hour ago.

“I'll walk with you as far as headquarters,” he said.

“I'll need my bonnet and wrist bag.”

The grimace when she glanced toward the stairs made him grin, even though he didn't want to. “I'll get them,” he offered. “Where are they?”

“Thank you,” she said. “They're in the wardrobe closet. Hanging on a hook on the left.”

He nodded and shot up the stairs. After insisting the men double-and triple-check every nook and cranny, he grabbed her items and found her waiting on the front porch.

“I'm sure there aren't any more snakes,” he said, pulling the door closed behind him.

“I hope not.” She took the bonnet, slipped it on and tied the long ribbons on the side of her chin before taking the bag. “Thank you. Both for getting my things and for having the men search the house.”

There was a shyness about her again, and with it came the desire to kiss her again. It had been there the moment he'd awakened with her still snuggled against his side, and had been with him ever since, other than that fleeting moment in the kitchen when she'd reminded him of the past. Then he'd wanted her out of here as fast as possible. Now, looking into those clear brown eyes, he didn't want her to be anywhere but at his side. Which was impossible.

Seth dwelled on that as they walked, and if she hadn't stopped, he'd have kept going right past headquarters. The big stone building with its wide double doors mocked him this morning. Challenged him to ignore the responsibilities that lay inside it. Inside him.

“Have a good meeting,” she said.

Accepting his duties, as he always would, he let loose her arm.

Millie, with her hands trembling and her insides fluttering, turned, knowing he wouldn't go into his meeting while she was standing there. He was too much of a gentleman for that. Putting one foot in front of the other had never been quite this difficult before. The desire to tell him the truth, the entire truth, created a rather intense argument inside her.

By the time she reached the trading post she had resigned herself again to the fact that she couldn't tell Seth anything, but it left her stomach churning. She told herself to ignore it. Not that it helped.

“Aw, Mrs. Parker, your boots are in.”

“Good morning, Mr. Jenkins,” she said, maneuvering through the space, which was even more crowded than usual. Crates made of thin wooden slats were balanced precariously and stacked head high in most every direction. “My husband thought they might have arrived.” A thrill circled her heart.
Husband
. One word had never filled her with such pride.

“Yes, yes, just this morning,” the bearded store owner answered. “I'd sent a wagon to Denver the day you ordered them, to make sure I'd get them as soon as possible. No one wants to disappoint the major.”

“I'm sure they don't,” she answered, turning toward the dusty window, where the faint outline of the headquarters building could be seen. Seth was a firm leader, but well respected and admired. She'd gathered that from the first day, and every day since.

“Here they are, ma'am.”

Mr. Jenkins, the lower half of his face covered in white whiskers, had set a pair of black boots very similar to the ones she was wearing on the counter. “These are perfect,” she said. “Thank you.”

“Would you like to try them on?”

“I don't believe there is any need.” Then, remembering the soldiers searching for snakes, she realized spending time at the trading post seemed a much better idea than returning home. Especially if another slithering creature was uncovered. “On second thought, I believe I will.”

Mr. Jenkins pulled a stool around the plank-and-barrel counter and set it down, patting the round top. “Here you go. Sit right here.”

In no hurry, she removed a boot and slipped her foot into one of the new ones. It fit perfectly and the inner sole was as soft as a pillow. “These are very nice boots, Mr. Jenkins.”

“Only the best,” he said with a wide grin. “I have something else for you, ma'am.”

“Oh?” she answered absently, while removing the boot. The idea that Seth had picked them out filled her with a unique sense of endearment. She'd save them for special occasions.

“Here you go.” The man held out a yellow parasol, complete with cane handle.

Shaking her head, she sought for an explanation. “I don't recall ordering that, Mr. Jenkins, though it is very beautiful.”

“You didn't order it, ma'am. It's my gift to you.” The top of his head, very close to being hairless, took on a pink glow. “Seeing how your other one was ruined on your journey out here.”

His smile was so bright and his tone so sincere, she had a hard time shaking her head again. “I couldn't accept such a gift, Mr. Jenkins. But thank you for the thought.”

He extended it farther. “I insist, Mrs. Parker. It's a gift to welcome you to our fort. Please take it.”

“Oh, but I couldn't.”

Shaking his head, the man said, “Then I'll have to tell the major.”

Her stomach flipped. “Tell the major what?”

“That you wouldn't accept my welcoming gift.” There was a teasing glint in his eyes. “He'll make you take it. He likes to keep everyone happy. Makes for easier living.”

Relieved, because for a split second she'd thought he had discovered her true identity, Millie clicked her tongue. “You, Mr. Jenkins, are a rascal.”

His guffaw echoed off the walls, ceiling and unevenly stacked crates. “That I am, ma'am. Now are you gonna take my present or not?”

“I believe I have no choice.” She grasped the handle and ran her other hand over the silk and lace folded and tied along the intricate woodwork. It was a beautiful piece, and finely made. “Thank you, Mr. Jenkins. I appreciate your thoughtfulness.”

“And we appreciate you. The major's been grinning ever since you stepped off that wagon.”

Her heart seemed to double in size. Everyone at the fort was so kind to her. Had been since her arrival. She leaned closer to the man and teasingly whispered, “He's probably still thinking about the comical limp my broken heel gave me.”

The storekeeper's rumbling laughter filled the room again. “You were a sight, ma'am.”

She couldn't help but giggle. “I know.” Happiness like this was so new, sometimes she wondered if she should pinch herself. Setting the parasol on the counter next to her boots, she asked, “May I leave these here? I'd like to look around a bit.”

“Of course.” He picked a can out of the box next to him and set it on the shelf. “I gotta get this freight unloaded, but you just holler if you find something you can't reach.”

“I will,” she assured him, already scanning the shelves and tables. There truly wasn't anything she needed, but it would take the men time to check the house, so she might as well explore the merchandise. Besides, with Seth at headquarters, there was little else to fill her time.

Time. Now that was an amazing thing. A week ago, she'd thought Mr. Jenkins a scary-looking character, but now recognized he was an enterprising shop owner who was also generous. A kind-hearted soul. Not even the Indians filing in and out of the doorway fazed her. She offered a smile to those who glanced her way. Who'd have ever imagined she'd adjust so well, so quickly? It just proved people could get used to new things if they would only try.

Her hand stalled on the glass chimney of the oil lamp she'd been admiring. The tiny flowers on the base no longer drew her attention. She'd adjusted all right. More than she should have. A heavy weight settled in her chest.

She'd tried to become Rosemary this morning, but hadn't put forth much effort. It was as if something inside her refused to allow the disguise to manifest, and she'd readily accepted that. How would she ever make it to December? September was barely over, and every day it grew more difficult to remember why she was here. It wasn't that she didn't think of her sister and the baby regularly. But being here wasn't so much of a chore anymore, and that wasn't right. Rosemary wouldn't be enjoying life at the fort, and that's who Seth had to divorce. Rosemary. Not Millie.

The air around her grew suffocating. It was as if she no longer existed, yet at the same time, she had never been happier. And that was the problem. This wasn't about her. It was about her sister and Seth. Millie felt as if her head was spinning. The harder she thought, the more confusing everything became. Of all the skirmishes and incidents she'd had to clean up for Rosemary, this was the most complicated, especially for her.

Millie cleared her lungs with a long sigh, but it didn't help. What kept her head spinning and belly churning the most, what turned her inside out, was that she didn't want Seth to not like her. But he had to dislike her in order to divorce her, didn't he? Divorced people didn't like each other—at least she assumed they didn't. She'd never known a divorced person.

“Do you like the lamp?” Mr. Jenkins asked.

She spun around, and walked to the counter. “Yes, it's very pretty, but I have no need for it.” Pointing to the shelf behind him, at items that had caught her eye earlier, she asked, “Could I have one of those tablets, and a pencil holder and lead?”

“Do you like to draw?” he asked, stepping onto a stool to reach the paper.

“Yes, I do.” There was no reason to explain that she hadn't spent much time drawing lately. She hadn't done a lot of things she used to do. Lack of money. Lack of time. Lack of desire. The reasons just continued. Right now, she needed to draw. Needed something to occupy her mind.

“I have this new lead holder.” The shopkeeper held up a metal tube much larger than her miniature ones at home. “The men swear by it. They say the size is much easier to use. I have smaller ones if you prefer.”

“No, actually, I'd like to try the larger one, thank you. I'll need a box of leads, as well.”

“Anything else?”

“No, that will do.” She pulled open the top of her wrist bag. “How much do I owe you?”

“I'll just put it on the major's account,” Mr. Jenkins said, arranging the boots, paper tablet and pencil set in a small crate.

“I'd rather not. I'll just pay you.”

He was shaking his head. “Can't do that, Mrs. Parker. The major would have my scalp, and I ain't got much hair left to lose. If you wanna pay someone, pay your husband.” Jenkins turned then and shouted over his shoulder, “Wind, come carry this for the major's wife.”

Short of arguing, insisting she'd pay for her supplies and causing undue distress for the shopkeeper, Millie closed her bag and hooked the string over her wrist. “I can carry the crate. There's no need to trouble anyone.”