Jodi Thomas (35 page)

“I love the way your hair smells,” Chance whispered, hypnotized by the feel of her warm breath on his shoulder as she worked. “Untie me and let me bury my face in it like I did this morning. Let me teach you more of touching.”

She lay the bandage aside and examined his bruised ribs. “The light isn’t very good. I’ll have to touch you and you tell me when it hurts.”

Her fingers moved over his chest from his waist to his shoulder, and though he’d felt her touch before, this was different. And that ounce of difference weighed upon his flesh as heavily as the desire pounding in his ears. This time her fingers were a caress upon his skin. This time her touch burned his flesh with passion.

“Does that hurt?” she whispered, his nearness suddenly flooding her senses. What had started as only concern was becoming more . . . far more.

“No,” he answered as he leaned down to brush his lips against the tiny curls at the base of her neck.

Moving her fingers over his body, she delighted in the rippling of his muscles and in the warm feel of his smooth skin that seemed layered over an oak-hard frame. So many times she’d watched him work, glistening with sweat in the fields, and she’d wondered what it would be like to touch such a man. He seemed so wild and free—part savage, part civilized. He was a breed apart from all the people she’d ever known, this man who called himself a Texan.

As she spread her palm wide over his chest, she heard his sudden intake of breath. “Am I hurting you?” She withdrew in alarm.

“No,” he answered, slinging his hair from his eyes. Their blue depths were dark with need. Chance looked up at the loft, not wanting her to be frightened by the hunger simmering in his eyes.

Anna brushed the thick blackness off his forehead as he straightened, closing the gap between them. She let her fingers comb through his hair, loving the way it felt. So many mornings she’d watched him stand at the washstand beside the cabin. He’d dunk his head in the water, then comb the dark mass back with long fingers. She’d longed to touch his hair just as she was doing now. The feel of him against her brought a pleasure unlike any she’d ever known.

He lowered his lips to hers with a kiss as soft as spring leaves. Anna knew she had only to step away and he couldn’t follow. If she moved an inch or more she would be free of his kiss. But she didn’t want to move. She didn’t want to pull away. The knowledge that she had the choice was the courage that created boldness.

Breaking the kiss, Anna let her lips drift along his skin to his throat. She kissed the short growth of beard under his chin until she reached the soft, pulsing hollow at the base of his neck. Her hands moved over him, loving the feel of him. Amazed at the way her touch changed his breathing, she pressed her body against him and felt his heart through her clothes. Slowly, she moved against him, feeling the pounding of his heart between her breasts.

Chance stared at the roof above him. “God, woman, untie me!” he whispered.

Leaning against him, Anna listened to the racing of his heart. “Not yet. Not until I’ve bandaged you again.”

“I don’t need a bandage. I need to pull you against me. You’re driving me mad with your touch.” His voice was low and seemed to ripple over her senses like the first warm breeze of spring. “I need to feel your heart against mine, Anna.”

Looking up at him, curiously unafraid, she knew she’d caught the wild animal and he wanted to be free. She saw the passion in his eyes. She saw the hunger, but it didn’t frighten her the way it had the night of the storm, for she knew him better and feared him less. When he’d grabbed her during the storm, all her bad memories had flooded over her. Now he was the one tied and trapped and it was she who held his freedom.

Anna lifted a fresh bandage. “We must get back to the others.” She wrapped the cloth around him. “They’ll miss us and come looking.”

“Not before you touch me once more.” Chance brushed her ear with his lips. “Not before I taste your mouth.”

Anna dropped the bandage as her lips found his.

At first she teased him by pulling away, but his kiss drew her to him. As it deepened she opened her mouth to his and loved the way his tongue explored. As his kiss brought her pleasure she moved her hands over him as he had touched her before. When her fingers closed about his hips and pulled him against her, he moaned softly and his kiss deepened to a passion neither had ever known.

Finally, Chance raised his head. “Dear God, Anna, untie me.”

The rope snapped free with her sudden tug and Chance pulled her against him. His embrace was wild and free with hunger. She clung to him, holding fast as a tidal wave of need overpowered them both.

He wound his fist into her soft hair and was almost lost to any world but her arms when he heard Maggie’s voice.

“Chance,” she called from what seemed like miles away. “Chance, Anna, supper.”

Anna pulled away from his arms, but the pain of her leaving was overshadowed by the promise that smoldered in her eyes. “It will be good to get back to our place,” she said as if they’d been gone for days and not hours.

Chance smiled. “Yes,” he whispered, as he fought the need to pull her against him once more. “It will be good; in fact, it may be heaven.”

At dinner Chance didn’t scold the boys for tying him up, and they lost interest in their pranks because of his lack of concern. He and Anna were so wrapped up in watching one another that the dozen other people in the room might as well have been furniture. She watched his movements, and his eyes never seemed to leave her. Sitting beside her on the bench, his leg accidentally touched hers beneath the table and Anna had trouble concentrating on what Mrs. Basse was saying.

Turning suddenly toward Chance, Anna let her breast brush his arm slightly. He stumbled over his words, silently revealing how greatly her small action had affected him.

Wordlessly, he took her touch as a challenge, and began a silent game of affection that paralleled their everyday actions on the surface but stoked an inner fire within them both.

He lowered his hand beneath the table and ran it lightly over her leg as he talked about next year’s crops.

She lay her fingers over his while she refilled his coffee cup.

An hour later, as she rocked the baby, Chance knelt beside her. He stroked her arm with the back of his hand as he pretended to touch Cherish’s sleeping face.

While the children dressed for bed, Anna leaned close to Chance once more as she helped clear the table, apologizing with soft insincerity as she brushed his shoulder.

The game continued until bedtime without anyone except Anna and Chance aware of it. Yet each slight touch was responsible for the glow in her cheeks and the twinkle in his eyes.

As the candles burned low, Anna was assigned to sleep with the girls in the loft and Chance had his choice of the boys’ room or the barn. He took the barn without hesitation. As he stepped to the door, he pulled Anna close and touched her cheek with a kiss. The endearment was more of a promise than a farewell.

Mrs. Basse gave the order for sleep and to Anna’s amazement the house quieted and settled in for the night. Within minutes, it seemed that everyone except Anna was sound asleep. She nursed Cherish for a while, thinking of the way she’d felt when she’d touched Chance. It had been exciting and frightening at the same time.

Closing her eyes, she remembered all the months they’d been together. She thought of how often he’d helped her, touched her tenderly, cherished her. He’d never hurt her. He’d never taken; he’d always given. In less than four months, their time together would be over and she would never know his touch again.

A need deep inside her grew. Could passion be such an ugly thing if it were a part of loving someone? Would she go her whole life without knowing the feel of a loving man?

Anna pulled her wrapper tightly around her waist. She had to ask Chance how he felt, she told herself. She had to check on his wounds. But inside she knew the reason for her journey to the barn and it had nothing to do with Chance’s injured ribs.

She would taste his love before her fear overwhelmed her and forever quieted her need. She would go to him and ask him to hold her, to touch her, to make her his, if only for one night.

Crossing the moonlit yard to the barn, Anna heard the low sounds of the horses and smelled the damp, sweet aroma of hay. The night was heavy with heat and the air so still it was almost tangible, as though you could sweep it up in your hand.

She slipped between the doors and whispered Chance’s name in the darkness.

There was no answer.

Moving into the center of the barn where she’d seen the lantern, she gripped the flint and struck. The candle inside the iron lantern flickered to life. “Chance,” she called as she moved to where he’d spread his bedroll.

The straw poked at her bare feet as she walked, and the candle multiplied her shadow on the walls like sentries following her every move.

At the sight of Chance’s bedroll lying tied beside his saddle, Anna’s spirits plunged. He wasn’t in the barn. Finally she’d been brave enough to give love an opportunity, and he was gone.

She walked slowly back to the house, disappointment making each step heavy. In the morning, she’d be glad, she told herself, but tonight all she felt was a hollow need inside her.

Flickers of light from the house next door drew her attention. She looked up and saw Chance through the window of John Meusebach’s house. The two men were talking with a third man whose back was to the window.

Curiosity drew Anna closer. She couldn’t hear what they were saying, but she could see Chance’s face and knew he was arguing with the unknown man.

Suddenly, Chance threw up his arms and stormed out of the house. He was off the porch and around the corner before Anna thought to step into the shadows.

“Anna?” Chance snapped. “What are you doing out here? Were you listening?”

“No!” Anna felt her face redden and was thankful for the darkness.

“Then what are you doing up at this hour? We have to leave early in the morning to get back to the farm.” He was moving closer as he spoke. She could hear the anger in his voice but couldn’t tell if its fire had been from the argument he’d just had or if he was mad at the thought that she might have been listening.

“I . . .” The reason for her coming suddenly disappeared. “I . . .”

His fingers closed tightly over her arm. “I’m sorry for snapping at you. What we were saying shouldn’t be heard by women. I don’t want you getting worried about something that John and I are never going to let happen.”

Anna tried to pull her arm away. “I couldn’t hear you. I only just came from the barn.” She didn’t like the idea that he wanted to protect her as though she were a child. Suddenly, she realized her journey outside had been a mistake. “Let go of me.”

Chance released her but didn’t step out of her way. After a long moment he gently put his arm around her waist. Now his touch was not protective, but loving. His hands moved along the folds of her wrapper as he pressed her against him. “So you weren’t spying. You were looking for me.” His lips touched her cheek. “Could it be, my beautiful wife, that you wanted my touch? My kiss? Or did you come to torture me as you have all evening?”

Anna answered by lifting her arms and running her hands through his hair. She pulled his mouth closer and felt him stiffen in shock at her boldness. His kiss was hesitant, as if he were testing, checking, but hers was not. She opened her mouth willingly to his kiss. His hands slid over her hips and pressed her against him as their kiss deepened. All the longing of the evening climaxed in a sudden need to be closer.

Anna didn’t understand what he’d been angry about or what the meeting had been about. She would worry about that tomorrow. For now she only knew she wanted this man to hold her. The longing he’d started with his touch had built until there was no denying her need. She held him tightly and leaned against him as he drew her into the magic of his kiss.

For the first time there was no hesitation in their relationship .  . . no holding back . . . no fear.

“Well, well.” A voice shattered the silence of the night. “What have we here?”

Groaning, Chance pulled his mouth from hers. His arms didn’t loosen as his fingers pressed against her waist. For a moment she saw the passion in his blue eyes, a fire that would have consumed them both in a few more minutes.

He pulled her close and faced the intruder. “What we have here, Walter, is a man kissing his wife.”

Walter’s laughter fouled the evening air. “I saw that, and quite a show it was. I tell you, Anna, I didn’t think that brittle stiff body of yours was capable of molding so closely against a man. You certainly showed no such passion to my dear departed friend William. I was beginning to think you had inherited none of your mother’s hunger for men.”

“That’s enough, Walter.” Chance’s voice was low and deadly. “I’ve had quite enough of you tonight. If you want to be alive at sunrise, you’ll say good night.”