Summer Breeze (35 page)

within her until she arched upward, frantically seeking release.

With a fierce growl, he gave her what she sought with harder, quickening flicks of his tongue until the throbbing ache inside her shattered like thin glass, shooting shards of sheer ecstasy all over her body.

"Joseph?" Disoriented and suddenly uncertain, Rachel reached for him as he drew away to kick off his boots and remove his trousers. "Don't go."

"Not on your life, darlin'." He returned to her then, kneeling between her parted thighs. When their gazes met, she saw his concern for her beneath the glaze of passion in his eyes. "You're as ready as I can get you, sweetheart. If this hurts too much, just tell me, and I swear I'll stop."

Rachel wasn't worried. No matter how much it might hurt this first time, she wanted it over with so he would never have that worried look in his eyes again. "Just do it," she whispered. He slowly nudged himself into her, and Rachel did indeed feel pain. She clenched her teeth and clutched at his muscular shoulders, braced for the invasion. Only it didn't come.

"I'm hurting you," he whispered raggedly. He started to withdraw. "I can't do this."

Rachel locked her bent legs around him and bucked forward with her hips to finish it herself. Pain exploded through her. It hurt so much that it fairly took her breath.

"Oh,
shit."
Joseph gathered her into his arms. His body was shaking, shaking horribly. "Oh, sweetheart. Why did you do that?"

She'd done it because he couldn't. Tears stung Rachel's eyes. He would have stopped rather than cause her pain. That told her how very much he loved her, as words never could. And the pain was receding now, becoming more a dull ache than an actual hurting.

"It's better now, Joseph." She trailed kisses along his jaw. "Make love to me. Make me feel as if I've died and gone to heaven."

He pushed up on his arms and moved tentatively within her. "How's that?"

Rachel's breath caught at the sensations that darted through her. "Good, very good."

He thrust with more force, magnifying the delight.

"Oh,
yes,
Joseph,
yes!"

Joseph had never felt so drained in his life. His bride was an insatiable bed partner. Not that he was complaining. Holding her close, he lay on his side, facing the kitchen. Her soft, naked bottom was nestled against Old Glory, who'd given up the ghost and didn't stir even when she wiggled.

Joseph tried to remember how many times they'd made love over the course of the night. One time blended together with another, creating a glorious blur in his mind. He could only say with certainty that he'd loved her well and thoroughly.

The kitchen looked as if a storm had come along and rained clothing. He smiled and buried his face in Rachel's curls. Oh, how he loved her. Never in all his life had he imagined himself capable of loving anyone this much. She was so wonderful—and so brave—and so openly honest about her feelings. /
want to see you, too.
How many virgin brides faced their first bedding with such enthusiasm?
Oh, Joseph, you 're pretty, too.
Was it any wonder he loved the girl?

Exhaustion settled over Joseph like a black blanket. He gave himself up to it, moving from consciousness into sweet, rose-scented dreams.

When Joseph awakened some time later, Rachel had left the bed. As he sat up, he realized that the day had long since dawned, the porch door was flung wide, and the ironwork was hanging open.

He slipped from bed, drew on his trousers, and padded barefoot to the doorway. The sight that greeted his sleepy gaze— Rachel, strolling barefoot about the garden, wearing nothing but the gossamer gown—nearly took his breath away.

Weeks ago, he had tried to picture how she might look in her courtyard, but his imagination had failed him on two counts. The garden was far prettier than he had envisioned, and the woman in it was even more beautiful. Her hair fell in a glorious cloud of golden curls to her narrow waist. Her body could have been sculpted in ivory.

Mesmerized by her, Joseph moved out onto the porch. She gave a tinkling laugh when she saw him. "Come look, Joseph. We have a rosebud."

The only rosebuds he was interested in were at the tips of her breasts, but he obediently followed the path of stepping-stones until he reached her side. After giving the rosebush due attention, he caught his wife around the waist and kissed her. She melted against him in eager surrender, then stiffened slightly and glanced uneasily around the courtyard.

"I'm not sure this is the place for this. I feel self-conscious."

Joseph nibbled the silken slope of her neck. "No need for that. Except for Buddy, it's completely private here." He skimmed his hands up her sides to cup her breasts and then lifted them to his searching lips. "Ah, Rachel, you're so beautiful."

She moaned and arched her spine. "Joseph?"

"It's all right. Trust me," he whispered.

She moaned again, and by the sound, he knew that he had won. He proceeded to make love to her in the sunlight on a patch of new grass—and then on the porch—and then on the kitchen table.

A man needed breakfast, after all.

Darby remained at Eden for a week after the wedding to give the newlyweds privacy, and Joseph made the most of each day. Because he couldn't take Rachel anywhere for their honeymoon, their activities were limited. They talked, they ate, they completed the few chores that they absolutely had to, and then they spent the rest of the time doing what they enjoyed most, making love.

Rachel continued to surprise Joseph with her unabashed enjoyment of physical intimacy. Most ladies in his acquaintance adhered to strict rules of social conduct that he suspected followed them to the bedroom. Such was not the case with Rachel. Joseph didn't know if it was because she'd been sequestered

for so long, or if she simply possessed a free spirit. He only knew she never said no to anything.

One evening, upon request, she happily cooked his supper while wearing nothing but her apron.

That ended with the meat scorching. Not that either of them cared about eating when the meal was finished. Another evening, they bet articles of the clothing they were wearing while playing poker. When Rachel lost her drawers to Joseph, he threw in his hand.

In all Joseph's life, he couldn't recall a time when he'd laughed so much. If ever he'd had doubts about getting married, they vanished during that week. Rachel was his companion, his wife, his lover, and his confidante. He loved to hear her giggle. He loved listening to the inflections of her voice when she read to him. He loved watching the myriad expressions that entered and left her beautiful blue eyes while they conversed about any subject. In short, he just loved the girl. She was everything he could have wanted in a woman, and she made him feel complete, as if he'd found the other half of himself. Even better, he knew that Rachel felt the same way. They were meant for each other, plain and simple.

Darby's appearance at the garden gate on Monday morning, a week and one day after their wedding, marked the end of Rachel and Joseph's honeymoon, but Joseph didn't expect it to end their happiness. While Rachel stayed in the kitchen behind her bars, Joseph let the old foreman into the courtyard, patted him on the shoulder, and invited him to join them for breakfast.

"That'd be good," Darby said as they followed the

stepping-stones to the porch. "I have some news to share."

"What kind of news?" Rachel beamed a smile through the ironwork as she inserted a key into the lock. Pushing the bars wide, she beckoned Darby inside. "Something wonderful, I hope."

Darby swept off his hat and nodded. "I think so. I ain't so sure how you're gonna feel about it."

Rachel's smile faltered. She wore a pink shirtwaist tucked into a gray skirt with organ-pipe pleats at the back. Joseph suspected what Darby was about to say, and a premonition of doom came over him like a gray cloud.

"You're leaving," Rachel said softly. It wasn't really a question. The sadness in her eyes bespoke certainty. "Oh, Darby, not because I'm married, surely. You'll always be welcome here."

Darby slapped his hat against his leg. "I know that, honey. This isn't about me feelin' unwelcome.

It's about me havin' a life of my own. You've got a husband to love you and look after you now.

I'm not needed here like I used to be. I'm finally free to do other things and go where the wind takes me."

Rachel nodded. And then she smiled just a little too brightly. "Of
course."
She clamped a hand over the swirl of braid atop her head. "Oh, of
course,
Darby. How selfish of me. I never thought. I just never thought. Have you found another job, then?"

Joseph wanted to gather Rachel up into his arms and shield her from what Darby was about to tell her, but the rational side of him realized that he couldn't protect her from everything.

"Not another job, exactly, although it will mean me workin' somewhere else." Darby's larynx bobbed. "There's a lady I've loved for a good many years, and I've asked her to be my wife. I know it's a little late in life for me to be tyin' the knot, but I'm gonna get hitched anyhow."

Rachel's mouth formed an O of surprise. Then all the clouds of regret vanished from her eyes.

She clapped her slender hands, laughed with absolute gladness, and threw her arms around Darby's neck.

"Married? Oh, Darby, that's so lovely. And it's never too late! I'm so happy for you, so very happy! Joseph, did you hear? Darby's in love."

"I heard," Joseph replied solemnly. He thrust out a hand to the foreman. "Congratulations, Darby.

I'm happy as I can be for you. I truly am."

Rachel loosened her arms from around Darby's neck and fairly danced in front of him. "Who is she? Tell me all about her. Is she pretty? Is she good enough for you? When did you meet her?"

Darby moistened his lips. Then he shot a look at Joseph. "I met her years ago, honey, long before you were ever born. As for whether she's pretty or not, I think she's beautiful, and that's all that counts."

Rachel's smile faded again. "You don't act very happy about it, Darby."

He sighed and smoothed a gnarled hand over his hair. "That's because I'm afraid the news is gonna hurt you, and you gotta know I'd never hurt you for anything."

"That's just silly. I'm delighted for you. Why would the news hurt me?"

"Because the woman I plan to marry is your aunt Amanda."

All the color drained from Rachel's face.

"I'm sorry, honey. I know you've got hard feelings toward her. I'm not sure why, but there it is.

You've got a right to your feelings, just like I've got a right to mine."

Rachel swayed on her feet. Joseph stepped in close to grasp her arm.

"Amanda," she whispered. "You're going to marry Amanda Hollister?"

"I've waited well over half my life to be with her," Darby replied. "I'm an old man, and time's runnin' out. Forgive me, little girl. I know you're gonna hate me for it."

Rachel squeezed her eyes closed. "Never that, Darby. Never that."

"For the last five years, I've made all my choices for you," the foreman went on. "I don't regret a single minute, mind you. Please don't be thinkin' that. But now that you have Joseph, I can make some choices for myself. I hope you can find it in your heart to understand."

Rachel wrapped her trembling hands around Joseph's arm as if she needed his strength to support her weight. "I do understand, Darby. You've given five years of your life to me. I shan't begrudge you a chance at happiness, no matter who it's with."

Darby's green eyes filled. He nodded and looked out through the ironwork at the garden. "I'll be stayin' on here for about a week, if that's okay. If you'd rather I didn't, I can sleep in Amanda's barn until our nuptials."

Rachel's nails dug into Joseph's arm. "This is your home, Darby McClintoch. You can remain here however long you wish."

Darby left without joining them for breakfast. The tension in the air was so thick it could have been eaten with a spoon. Rachel sank down on a chair at the table, braced her arms, and covered her face with her hands. Joseph sat across from her.

"I'm sorry, sweetheart." It was all he could think to say.

She didn't look up. "I want him to be happy," she said in a strained voice. "I truly do, Joseph.

Only why must it be with
her?"

Joseph chose his words carefully. "Can you tell me why you hate her so?"

She shook her head.

"There has to be a reason, darlin'." Joseph sincerely believed that. Rachel had such a loving and caring heart. He couldn't envision her hating anyone without good cause. "There just has to be."

"My dreams," she whispered raggedly. "It's something in my dreams. She was behind it. I know it. I just don't know for sure
how
I know it."

"Can you tell me about your dreams? Maybe if we talk about them, maybe if you can describe to me what you see in them, we can come up with some answers."

Long silence. Then,
"Blood.
I see
blood.
Everywhere, Joseph, everywhere. On the grass. On Denver's yellow fur." Her shoulders jerked. "Tansy's pink dress, drenched in blood. And Ma. Oh,
God.
Oh,
God.
No face. Pa's p-playing his fiddle, and she's d-dancing over the grass, laughing and smiling at him. But then she has no face."

Joseph's stomach rolled. "You mentioned once that you see Denver leaping up to bite the man's leg, and that the man pulls his revolver and shoots him between the eyes. What else do you see, sweetheart? Picture his boot. Picture his leg. Is there anything special about the gun—or possibly the saddle? If you see his leg, if you see his hand holding the gun, you must see other things."

No answer. Joseph studied her bent head for a long moment. Then he sighed. "If it's this painful for you, honey, just let it go."

Still no reply. A cold, itchy sensation inched up Joseph's spine. "Rachel?"

She didn't move. Concerned, Joseph reached across the table and drew her hands from her face.

Her lashes fluttered open, but even though she appeared to be looking at him, she didn't seem to see him.