Judith E French (20 page)

Using a bit of French soap that she’d brought with her from home, Caitlin carefully bathed herself from head to foot and dried herself with a clean towel. She had washed her hair the day before, but she took great pains to brush it and pin it up in a soft knot.

The room was warm, but gooseflesh still rose on her arms and shoulders. She felt as nervous as a bride on her wedding night.

She was a bride. Not only had she not been with any man in eight years, she and Shane had been together only a few hours before he went away to America.

“If only I was a virgin,” she murmured. “Better we had never consummated the marriage.” Then, at least, Shane would have known that she’d been faithful during their separation.

A log snapped in the fire, and she jumped.

“I’m not afraid,” she lied to herself.

Trembling, her mouth dry, she tiptoed up the stairs and into Shane’s bedchamber. She’d brought no candle, but she needed none. She made her way to the bed and slipped under the blanket. And then she waited.

The moonlight shimmered silver against the surface of the black water as Shane waded into the rocky creek near the house. He gasped as the icy current closed over his knees and then rose to cover his hips and groin. A few yards down, he’d cleared away the stones to form a pool deep enough to swim in. Taking a breath, he closed his eyes and dove under.

From the stream bottom, Shane scooped a handful of sand and gravel. When he came up, he scrubbed his chest and arms until his skin tingled.

The cold water numbed his flesh and shriveled his sex, but he wasn’t worried. He was in no danger of losing his virility. The way he’d been thinking the past few days, it was a wonder he hadn’t heated the creek to the boiling point.

Tonight he would take Caity as his wife or know the reason why. She was ready and willing—he’d read that in her ginger-brown eyes. He’d nearly thrown her down and made love to her on the edge of the meadow this morning. Whatever they had to settle yet between them would be easier to manage once he was back in her bed where he belonged.

Strange how a man’s mind worked. When he’d first come to America, he’d thought of nothing but Caity. He’d turned down a lot of women he could have had—some
without paying a dime. But Caity had been his first, and he’d wanted no other.

Then, when he’d sent the money and waited futilely for months, a callus grew inside him. He’d drunk too much one night and laid down silver to bed with a blonde at a filthy tavern on the Mississippi River. And after that there had been a widow he met at a dance, and a handful of women whose faces he couldn’t remember. None of them had been Caity, and once his physical need was satisfied, he’d been ashamed of himself.

As the years passed he’d thrown himself into the work of helping his uncle build Kilronan, having as little to do with females as possible—until he met Cerise. It was Cerise who’d taught him how to please a woman. He supposed he should be grateful for that. He’d been as green as grass the night he and Caity had consummated their marriage vows.

“Draw, fumble, fire,” Cerise had said after they bedded the first time. “You’ve all the right equipment, but none of the know-how.” Her words had wounded his pride sore, cutting as deep as a Shawnee scalping knife. But once he’d had a taste of her—pepper and all—he’d come back for more, until even she was satisfied with his performance.

“It’s time I let you go,” he whispered into the night. He took a deep breath and sent one final thought Cerise’s way.
Fare thee well, wherever you’ve landed
. Then he dived under the water again and didn’t surface until his lungs were screaming for air.

Shivering, teeth chattering, Shane splashed to the creek bank and scrubbed his legs and feet. Aching cold seeped through to his bones, but he didn’t care. The clear, rushing water had eased the aching in his ribs and made him feel clean inside as well as out. He’d not felt this cleansed since he’d sought out a priest after Cerise’s
death, made confession for his sins, and received his first holy communion in many years.

He regretted the sins he’d committed in the eight years he and Caity had been apart. He’d kept his penance, and he hoped Father Gregory’s absolution would count with the Lord.

He wanted the chance to be a husband to Caity again, and he wanted the past to stay buried. He prayed it was possible.

Cherokee nickered from the paddock, and Shane reached for the rifle he’d left propped beside his clothing and boots. Then he caught sight of Gabe beyond the pasture gate and heard the wrangler’s pinto whinny a response.

He was jumping at shadows. If a hungry Indian had slaughtered Thompson’s cow, he’d be a long way from here by now. He sighed. Trouble was, it didn’t sound to him like any Indian he’d ever known. Most were not given to waste a rabbit hide, let alone three-quarters of a beef.

He and Gabriel had driven all his stock close to the house, and Gabe was riding guard. He’d have to trust Gabe’s good sense, he decided. After all, what rustler worth his salt would try to drive off animals on a night as bright as this one?

With one last glance around, Shane picked up his rifle, boots, and clothing, and started back toward the house and Caity.

She’d promised herself that she wouldn’t fall asleep in Shane’s bed, but as the hours passed, her morning in the saddle and the day’s work took their toll. Caitlin drifted off and didn’t wake until she heard the squeak of the bedroom door.

“Oh.” Her eyes snapped open, and she stared at Shane
in astonishment as she remembered where she was and why. And all the while he stood not two feet from the bed with his boots in one hand and a shirt over his arm. “Shane?”

“And who else were you expectin’, darlin’?” he answered.

Heat radiated under the surface of her skin as she realized that he was as naked as the day he’d been born. The moonlight danced over his broad shoulders and muscular chest. It gleamed like gold dust off his flat belly and narrow hips, and accentuated his tumescent shaft springing from the curly mat of dark hair below.

Caitlin’s breath caught in her throat. She wondered if she should pinch herself to find out if she was dreaming or awake.

The air in the room seemed charged with energy, as if Shane had brought the outdoors with him. She caught the sweet odor of basswood flowers and the faint scent of new mown grass. No, Shane was not a dream; he was as real as life.

But the feeling of being caught up in a dream remained. Surely even a married woman should feel shame at looking at her husband this way, she thought. But she could not tear her gaze from him, and she could not prevent the lustful thoughts rising in her mind. Moistening her lips with the tip of her tongue, she struggled to regain her composure.

“I thought I’d have to track you down,” Shane said in a husky voice. “And here you are, exactly where you belong.”

Unconsciously she jerked the corner of the sheet up to cover her breasts and sucked in a deep, ragged breath. The hair prickled on the back of her neck, and goose bumps rose on her skin. “You must think me … a brazen
hussy,” she said. “I didn’t want to wake Derry, so I came in. …”

“Ah, Caity girl, you needn’t make excuses for comin’ to your husband’s bed.”

She trembled as he took hold of the sheet and pulled it back. “You’re a fair sight, Caitlin Mary.”

She slid to the far side of the bed and scooted up on her knees. Her white linen gown covered her from ankle to throat, but the fabric had been washed so many times that it was as thin as morning dew. She could feel the cloth clinging to her breasts and thighs, rubbing against her sensitive nipples and stretching tightly over her buttocks.

Feeling foolish, she crossed her arms over her chest and watched wide-eyed as he slid onto the mattress beside her.

“Don’t be afraid of me, darlin’,” Shane murmured.

His words spilled over her like warm, sweet-scented honey. “I’m not afraid,” she protested.

Lies, she thought. How could she not be afraid—frightened that he’d be disappointed in her, that she would not be a match for his Cerise?

“You know I’d never hurt you, Caity.”

Did she? She was trembling from head to foot, and the air seemed too thin to breathe. “I want you, too, Shane,” she whispered. “I do.”

He reached over and touched her hair. His big hand that had seized the horn of a monstrous bull was so gentle that he might have been handling a newly hatched chick. “Let it down,” he said. “I want to see your ginger-red hair fallin’ over your shoulders.”

His searching fingers closed on a hairpin, and he pulled it free. Then he drew out a second and a third. Her knotted tresses tumbled gypsylike down her back. “Better. I always thought you had the most beautiful hair I’d ever seen.”

Her tongue felt stuck to the bottom of her mouth. She wanted to say something in turn, but she was too full of emotion to speak. She felt so strange, as though her body belonged to someone else. Just having Shane so close to her was enough to make her giddy.

How many nights had she lain awake thinking of him and wanting him beside her? How many nights had she prayed that they’d have another chance to be together?

“Say something,” he coaxed. “Else I’ll think I’m here alone and just dreamin’ you’re beside me.”

“Your hair is nice, too,” she stammered woodenly. “Even brown.”

He laughed, then leaned close and kissed her lips tenderly. She closed her eyes and savored the caress, not giving and not retreating, just feeling with every fiber of her being.

“Stay right where you are,” he said.

To her surprise, he sprang off the bed and went to the far side of the room. She heard the scrape of something hard against the floor; then Shane heaved up the heavy trunk and carried it to the door, blocking the entrance. “There,” he said. “That should keep the rascals out.”

“Which rascals?”

“All of them. Big and small.” He turned back to her. “I’ve waited so long to have you here. I’m not about to let us be disturbed by man or beast tonight.”

She chuckled softly. “It would more likely be a child—yours or mine.” And then she sighed with contentment. “I thought perhaps you were barring the door to keep me in.”

The mattress rustled as he climbed into the bed. His scent reached her first, male and a little unnerving. “You’ll not want to get away, darlin’, I promise you. Of course, if you did need to escape, there’s always the window.”

He covered her hand with his and brought it to his lips, turning it gently so that he could kiss the length of each finger in turn, then her palm, and finally the sensitive skin over the pulse at her wrist.

Caitlin gave a small sigh of pleasure as a rainbow of sensation spread up her arm and warmed her body. Then Shane trailed slow, teasing caresses up to the underside of her elbow. She could feel his breath through the thin linen sleeve of her nightgown. “That tickles,” she whispered, trying to keep the mood light.

But his kisses didn’t really tickle; instead, they stirred her in a way that she could not fathom. They made her weak and vulnerable.

He slid closer and pulled her other arm away from her breast. “Don’t hide from me,” he murmured. “I want to see you, Caity, all of you.” Again he started at her fingertips and kissed her hand and arm until she cupped his cheek in her hand and lifted his head so that she could kiss him full on the mouth.

Then, somehow, without thinking or knowing how it happened, her arms were around his neck and he was holding her so close that his long, naked legs pressed against hers.

“Shane …” What kind of woman was she that she could feel so undone at a man’s touch? The heat between her thighs had become a throb; her bones were so heavy that she had no strength to move.

“Yes, darlin’?”

She sighed again. “I like this.”

“You’ll like what’s to come even more,” he promised.

A shiver of anticipation ran down her spine. “We should have done this on the first night I came to Missouri,” she dared.

He chuckled. “You’re right, and the fault was all mine. But now we have all that time to make up for.”

He ran an exploring finger over her lower lip, and it seemed the most natural thing in the world for her to open her mouth and gently suck the callused tip. “Caity,” he groaned. “You’ll unman me.”

They kissed again, and this time it was the tip of his heated tongue that she drew in and toyed with. She liked the taste and unfamiliar sensations that made her want to deepen the caress until they joined in a swirl of pleasure and forbidden thoughts.

“Wife …” Shane kissed the corner of her mouth and her cheek, and then the hollow beneath her ear. His tongue brushed her lobe and she moaned softly. He continued on, planting warm, moist kisses down her neck to the top ribbon tie of her nightgown.

And all the while he kissed her, her hands were busy, touching his face, tangling in his hair, and rubbing the hard taut muscles on his neck and shoulders. Not only were their legs entwined, but she could feel a rising heat against her belly.

“Ah, darlin’,” he whispered.

She felt a slight tug as the first tie came undone and then the pressure of his warm mouth against her skin. She could see the curve of his naked shoulder and the corded muscles along his back.

He cupped her breast in his hand, and her nipples tightened into hard, aching buds. “Do you want me to stop?” he rasped.

“No.” It came out more as a breath than a sound. She couldn’t say what she felt. She couldn’t describe the pressure building in the pit of her stomach, the heat that spiraled tighter and tighter.

How could this be? She was no virgin. She and Shane had consummated their marriage eight years ago, but she had never experienced these sensations then or since. She had not known that they were possible.

Another tie came loose.

Caitlin squeezed her hands into tight knots and squirmed closer to him. Shane was teasing her nipple with the pad of his thumb; his skin was rough against the thin cloth, and she felt the catch and release of individual threads of linen.

How hard Shane’s shoulders were, how soft the curling hair that sprang from his broad chest. Her searching fingers brushed a male nipple and he gasped. “Two can play this game,” she said.