Jane Bonander (26 page)

He tossed a rueful glance out the window. “No snowflakes, I’m afraid.”

“But I’ll always remember the first time we danced together in the snow.”

He grinned, touching her hair with gentle fingers. “After the Stedersons’ party?”

She shook her head and gave him a lusty smile. “No.”

Frowning, he answered, “No?”

She rested her face against his chest, listening to the thundering of his heart. “The first time I danced with you was in my mind, after that story you’d spun to the Hatfields.” She gazed up at him. “I knew the story was about you and your wife, but . . . but it was so easy to picture myself there, pressed close to you, knowing there was love in your eyes as we danced outside on the snowflakes.”

A chuckle rumbled up from his chest. “By the time I got done with that story, I wasn’t sure how much of it was truth and how much was wishful thinking. I’d been drawn to you from the beginning, sweetheart, but that night—” He heaved a deep sigh and hugged her close. “That night was the turning point in my feelings for you.”

She closed her eyes and cuddled closer. “Mine, too, but from the minute you came to my rescue, I’d thought about you. You were like no man I’d ever known. You hadn’t asked me for anything in return for all the work you’d done. Your touch didn’t repulse me, in fact, when you took my hand and introduced yourself, I knew something was different. From then on, every time I saw you my heart almost broke free from my chest.”

They turned and watched their family and guests eat and drink with gusto. Noisy voices and laughter filled the house. “And here we are,” Nathan said, sounding supremely satisfied.

“And here we are,” Susannah repeated. She glanced at the window again, watching the rain, knowing they needed it, but wishing for something else just the same. “Nathan, does it ever snow here?”

“I’m afraid not, sweetheart.”

She smiled at her foolishness. “Just wishful thinking, I guess.”

“You know I’d make it snow just for you if I could, don’t you?”

Her heart expanded with love. “I know. And I love you for it.” She took his arm, and they strolled back into the noisy room.

They clattered over the rutted road in their new buggy. She was blindfolded. “Nathan Wolfe,” she scolded, touching the cloth over her eyes, “just what are you trying to prove?”

He stilled her hand. “Don’t remove it, darling. Trust me.”

She gave him an indelicate snort. “It’s a good thing I don’t get sick from the motion.”

The air was cold, far colder than when they left the ranch. “Won’t you tell me where we’re going?”

“It’s not far now, love. Be patient.” He squeezed her knee, then caressed it, snaking his fingers up under her skirt.

She gave his hand a playful swat. “Oh, no you don’t. You get nothing until I find out where we’re going.”

The horses stopped, and her heart lurched. “Are we here?”

He left the buggy, then lifted her to the ground. “We’re here.” He removed the blindfold.

Susannah blinked at the sight in front of her. “Oh, Nathan,” she said on a sigh. They were high in the foothills. It was snowing. Big, white flakes drifted down, making the world look like something out of a fairy tale.

“It’s the best I could do,” he said, taking her in his arms.

Her eyes filled with tears. She pressed against him, allowing him to guide her through the steps of a waltz. “You are the most wonderful man.”

As they danced, she glimpsed the cabin hidden under the trees. “What’s in there?”

He squeezed her bottom. “The makings of a splendid honeymoon.”

Swaying with him, she murmured, “I suppose it’s too cold to make love in the snow.”

His chuckle was warm against her ear. “I don’t think I could get the ol’ chap up, sweetheart. But there’s a bearskin rug inside that’ll feel great on your bottom—or mine, depending on who’s on top.”

“Do you think it will be snowing in the morning?”

“I can almost promise you it will.”

“Good,” she said, anxiously tugging him toward the cabin. “Tonight let’s try out the rug.”

F
rom the newly built porch, Susannah watched the children play. Louisa and Kito’s three-year-old son, Abasi, Abe for short, sat in the wagon, one-year-old Miranda seated safely in front of him

Corey, a handsome six-year-old, waved to his mother as he pulled the babies toward the house. He whistled clear, clean notes, imitating the sweet warbles of many of the resident summer birds that nested in the trees around them. His music also served to entertain the smaller children.

When Miranda saw Susannah, she laughed gaily and clapped her chubby hands. “Mama! Mama!”

Susannah’s heart melted at the sight. Sunshine glimmered off Miranda’s cinnamon curls, turning them to flame. Her dimpled cheeks were pink with excitement. Susannah hurried down the steps and plucked her daughter from the wagon. They rubbed noses. “Were the boys good to you, sweetheart?”

“‘Course we were,” Corey said indignantly. “But you gotta change her, Ma, she smells somethin’ awful.”

Susannah sniffed. “Oh,” she said, wrinkling her nose, “she does, doesn’t she?”

Abe scrambled from the wagon and stood in front of her, appearing eager to speak. He was a handsome boy and already big for his age. Susannah had no doubt that one day he would be as big a man as his father. She could already detect strains of his mother’s dry wit in his personality

She put Miranda on a blanket on the porch and started to clean her up. “What is it, Abe?”

“I’m gonna get a puppy,” he said, his dark eyes glowing with excitement.

Abe had been speaking clearly in full sentences since he was two years old. “I heard that. What are you going to call him?” Max had found a paramour at the next ranch. She’d recently had six pups.

“I dunno. Maybe ‘Doggie.”

Susannah laughed. “Well, you bring Doggie by when you get him, all right?”

Abe smiled and grinned, exposing his straight white teeth.

With some of the wealth Susannah had gotten as a result of Harlan’s death, she’d given Kito and Louisa the means with which to purchase some land of their own, adjacent to the ranch. When they’d insisted on paying her back, she’d argued that she hadn’t gotten them a wedding gift. Just having them close was all she ever wanted.

Glancing up, she saw Nathan and Jackson returning from the barn, Max loping along beside them. As always, her heart bumped hard against her ribs at the sight of her husband. They both waved at her.

“Hello, you two! Did you get everything done?” They were building a new enclosure for the pigs. Some of their neighbors had let their pigs run free, and the result was destruction to everyone else’s gardens.

“It’ll be done in a few days,” Jackson informed her. “Pa said I could finish it myself if I wanted to.”

In the three years since he’d returned home, Jackson had become a different person. He rarely spoke of his life with the Yuroks, and everyone respected his silence. Nearly twelve, he was on the verge of manhood. His voice had even cracked on occasion. Although Susannah sensed he was happy, he was still a very serious child.

“So,” Nathan said, sitting down beside Susannah. He kissed her, sending a rush of hot expectation through her. “What’s happening here, my lovely wife?”

She brushed some hay off the front of his jeans.

His eyes filled with mischief. “I’ll give you an hour—”

“Stop that,” she said with a shaky laugh, then glanced at the children. “Corey informed me that your daughter ‘smells somethin’ awful.’”

“What? Not
my
daughter,” Nathan roared dramatically. “Not my dandy little Mandy!” He bent down and sputtered against her bare tummy causing her to giggle sweetly. She kicked her plump legs and gripped handfuls of her father’s hair.

A buckboard rattled toward them, over the grass. The horses stopped in front of the house, and Louisa waved. “You kids ready for some lunch?” She carried her new baby daughter, Kaya, against her bosom in a slinglike contraption Susannah had made.

Abe toddled to the wagon and struggled to get in. Louisa cuddled him close against her side and kissed the top of his head.

Louisa had softened since her marriage to Kito, but she was fiercely protective of her children, a trait that brought out all the old qualities that Susannah had grown to love.

Susannah finished pinning Miranda’s diaper and pulled down her dress. “Are you sure you want all of them, Louisa?”

“It’s Friday, ain’t it? Friday I get ’em all. An’ don’t expect me to bring ’em back till late, y’hear?”

Corey scrambled into the back of the buckboard. Jackson picked up Miranda and followed them.

“Jackson?” When he turned, Susannah said, “You really don’t have to go if you don’t want to.” She knew he was often torn between playing with the younger children and spending time with the adults.

He looked at his father, then at her and gave her a knowing little smile. “Aw, I think I’ll go with the rest. Pa says I can finish the pig enclosure over the weekend, and Nub’s gone to visit his sister. Kito promised to teach me how to strip the bark from the oak trees. He says that once I learn, I can sell what I strip to the tanners myself. Anyway,” he added around a sly little smile, “no doubt you’ll be busy the rest of the afternoon.”

Nathan clutched Susannah to his side. “You’re a wise young man, son.”

He chuckled a bit as he walked away, giving his father a backward wave. “Try to leave some water in the tub for the rest of us,” he said as he pulled himself into the back of the wagon and settled Miranda on his lap. “It’s bath night, remember?”

As they rode away, Nathan shook his head. “Is he trying to tell us he knows how we spend every Friday afternoon?”

Susannah smiled and snuggled against him, desire tightening her. “No doubt he’s become observant with age.”

Nathan dragged her off the porch and headed for the shed. “Observant with age? Hell, Susannah, he’s only twelve.”

She couldn’t help smiling. “Twelve going on twenty.”

“Well, we’re not giving up our Friday afternoon bath,” he said gruffly.

Susannah squeezed his waist. “Don’t be silly. We don’t have to give up anything. Jackson senses what’s going on, and he’s wise enough to understand. And it’s because
you
are such an understanding father. Were it not for you, I would have worried myself to death when Corey discovered his privates, remember?”

“God, that seems like a lifetime ago.” He gave her a lopsided grin. “He was proud of his ‘little one.’ Wanted to know if you’d like to see my ‘big one.’ Did you?”

She laughed, remembering. “Maybe I did. I just didn’t know it at the time. I was so embarrassed I thought I’d burn up.”

She caught his sudden grim expression. “Don’t worry about Jackson, darling.”

“I can’t help it. I wish I knew what had happened to him those five years he was lost to me.”

“Maybe one day, when he’s older, he’ll want to share it with you.”

They continued to stroll to the shed. The sky, clear and blue, was so bright it almost hurt Susannah’s eyes. The meadow was adrift with color; fresh wildflowers waved in the wind. Chickadees and warblers and buntings sang in the trees. The hills were drenched with oat and rye grasses, thick and green and succulent.

“I love summers here,” Susannah mused. “Winters at the cabin are still wonderful, but summers here in the valley are spectacular.”

He squeezed her hand. “I guess we could start a tradition of dancing on the meadow.”

“Why not?” She dragged him toward the flowers, but he stopped her.

“First the tub, then the flowers.”

She raised her eyes seductively, then rubbed against him. “No,” she argued, continuing to tease him with her body. “First the flowers,
then
the tub.”

His eyes darkening with desire, he took her in his arms and waltzed her toward the wildflowers. “I believe you’re right, Mrs. Wolfe. I believe you’re right. Nothing like making love outside, for all the world to see.”

He rubbed her bottom, pressing it against his groin.

“I’ll give you an hour to stop that,” she ordered, melting against him.

Laughing together, they danced on the meadow.

But the lark is so brimful of gladness and love,

The green fields below him, the blue sky above,

That he sings, and he sings, and forever sings he,

I love my Love, and my Love loves me.

Dear Readers:

I hope
Dancing on Snowflakes
touched your heart. If I ever go off course and sideline the romance, I hope someone will tell me. I also hope that readers of historical romantic fiction realize that while there will always be a happy ending, getting there can often prove to be a painful trip. Which, to my mind, makes the ending that much sweeter.

Those of you who have read my stories before know that I rarely, if ever, write just one book, leaving interesting (hopefully!) characters undeveloped. They usually clamor for a story of their own, and I try to accommodate them. I have some characters in mind from this story, but I’d be interested in hearing from you, too. Some of my best ideas have come from readers.

Happy Reading!

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San Ramon, CA 94583-6834