The Gentling (18 page)

Late in the afternoon on the day Trace was due to return, Katy stood at the kitchen sink, deftly peeling potatoes. Every few seconds her restless gaze darted out the window toward the stables. He would have to go there first to unhitch the horse trailer, she knew. The thought of seeing Trace again made Katy almost faint with excitement.

Her eagerness had made her haunt the kitchen all day, since the windows in that room afforded the best view of the stables and back road. After about her tenth visit, Mattie had finally become so exasperated over finding her underfoot constantly that she had tied an apron around Katy's waist and put her to work. Katy didn't mind. She was grateful for an excuse to stay.

As she reached for another potato, Katy's eyes were drawn irresistibly to the window once again. The familiar blue truck was just rolling to a stop beside the stables. Her heart gave a little leap and the potato peeler clattered into the sink. Katy stood frozen for a moment, then her feet were carrying her toward the back door. En route the apron was snatched off and tossed over the back of a chair. Oblivious to Mattie's knowing grin, she pushed open the screen door and loped down the back steps two at a time.

Katy's heart was pounding with anticipation as she started across the yard. With each step she was walking faster and faster, until by the time she was halfway there she was running.

Trace was just rounding the front of the truck as Katy approached the stables. Catching sight of him, she was suddenly overcome by a fit of intense shyness and skidded to a halt several feet away.

Trace spotted her at the same moment and stopped too, his eyes flaring like dry kindling. "Katy." Her name came out on a breathless sigh. Katy wasn't even sure she'd heard it.

They stood absolutely still, staring at one another. An expectant siience hung in the air between them.

For the past week Katy had planned exactly what she was going to say, exactly how she was going to behave when Trace returned. Now, every carefully rehearsed word flitted right out of her mind. Her brain simply refused to function.

The hazel-green eyes made a quick, avid search of her face and figure. Surprise flickered in their depths as he noted her heaving chest and flushed cheeks. Then, slowly, a devastating smile curved his mouth, and he broke the tense silence with a husky, "Hello, Katy."

Katy stared back at him with wide, hungry eyes. His sandy hair was windblown into an attractive disarray. The chambray work shirt, stretched taut across his hard, muscled chest and broad shoulders, seemed to emphasize his primitive masculine appeal. His loose-jointed stance was deceptively casual, but his eyes were alert as he watched Katy's silent struggle.

Her insides were fluttering like snowflakes in a storm. The desire to touch him was so strong it was almost irresistible, but her feet seemed to be rooted to the spot. She couldn't force a sound through her aching throat.

From the corner of her eye she saw her father emerge from the stables. Taking in the situation at a glance, he stopped short and placed his hands on his hips. "For heaven's sake, Katy girl!" his gruff voice chided. "What are you waiting for? Give the man a proper welcome."

Katy's uncertain gaze went from Trace to her father, then back. The look in the hazel eyes echoed Tom's words, and when Trace opened his arms wide she obeyed the command. With a joyful cry, she sped across the intervening space and flung herself against his chest.

She was lifted clear off the ground as their lips met in a long, burning kiss. His arms crushed her so tightly that Katy could barely breathe, but she didn't care. Winding her arms around his neck, she thrust her hands into his hair and pulled him closer.

Katy's uninhibited response seemed to release a floodgate in Trace. He kissed her with all the pent-up need of a man long denied, the fierce, driving hunger of the past months surging to the surface. Katy responded instinctively, glorying in the possessive, passionate demand.

Finally, the initial torrent spent, the kiss gentled into a long, exquisitely tender exploration that left them both weak and trembling. When at last their clinging lips parted, Trace allowed her body to slide downward until her feet touched the ground. His arms remained around her, holding her close, as he buried his face in the silky fall of her hair.

"Oh, sweetheart, I've missed you like hell," he muttered raggedly against her neck, breathing in the very essence of her. "But, dear heaven! It was worth every lonely hour just to have you greet me like this."

Katy smiled as she snuggled deeper into his arms. His shirt was unbuttoned halfway to his waist. Without conscious thought, she wound her arms tightly around his lean middle and pressed her face against his chest. A delicious shudder rippled through her as she buried her nose in the cloud of curling hair and inhaled deeply of his masculine scent. Trace's arms tightened, and Katy closed her eyes, utterly content. This was where she belonged.

The truck engine roaring into sudden life jolted them back to their surroundings. Surprised, they turned to find Tom beaming down at them from the pickup's cab.

"Don't mind me," he drawled. "I'm just going to take the trailer down to the barn and clean it out." With a casual wave, he put the truck in gear and drove away, the empty horse trailer bouncing and rattling along behind.

The knowing twinkle in her father's eyes had brought a flush to Katy's face but Trace didn't seem in the least disconcerted. Smiling that crooked little half smile that made her stomach flutter, he drew her close and fitted her tightly against his side. With his arm curved around her shoulders and hers around his waist, they turned and walked toward the house.

Later that night, as she sat before her dressing table, mercilessly dragging a brush through her hair while she waited for Trace to emerge from the bathroom, Katy was as taut as a drawn bow.

It was one thing to decide, with the safety of hundreds of miles between them, that the time had come to make their marriage a real one. Following through en the decision was something else again. She loved Trace. She had no doubts about that. And her body pulsed with a deep, burning need that only his complete possession could satisfy. Yet fear, insidious, mind-choking fear, was slowly twining its curling tendrils through her.

It wasn't a fear of Trace; she knew that he would never hurt her. It was a fear of the unknown. Giving yourself completely over to another person, experiencing the ultimate intimacy, was something Katy had never even contemplated until a week ago.

The sudden opening of the bathroom door brought an end to her self-torment. Katy's heart kicked painfully against her ribs as she watched Trace's mirrored image become inexorably larger.

He was clad in only a towel, which draped low from his hips. The sculptured beauty of his chest and shoulders made Katy's pulse race. In the soft light from the bedside lamp his naked skin glowed like polished bronze, its smooth surface broken only by the V-shaped pattern of burnished gold chest hairs.

Purposefully, relentlessly, his intent gaze never once leaving her, he moved across the lush carpet. When he came to a halt, only a few inches separated them.

A shiver rippled through Katy as their eyes met in the mirror and his hands settled warmly on her bare shoulders. She inhaled the intoxicating mixture of pine soap and clean male scent that emanated from him. Through the thin silk of her gown she could feel the heat of his body all across her back.

There was no mistaking the message in his eyes. Trace had not misread the silent invitation in her uninhibited greeting, in the hungry looks she had given him all through dinner.

"Let's go to bed, Katy,' he whispered with husky sensuality. "I want to hold you."

For a painful few seconds Katy's lungs refused to function. Then, mesmerized by the burning look in those deep-set eyes, drawn by a need even stronger than the curling fear in the pit of her stomach, she allowed him to lift her from the stool and lead her, trembling and silent, to the bed.

The light covering was thrown back, and as Katy slid obediently into the enormous bed, the lamp was clicked off. There was a soft plop as the towel hit the carpet, then the mattress tilted under Trace's weight. Powerful, sinewy arms reached out and gathered her close, molding her intimately against the hard, masculine body, his naked flesh burning its imprint into her through the silk gown.

"Oh, Katy, Katy. I feel as though I've waited all my life for this," Trace breathed against her lips just before his mouth claimed them.

The kiss was both passionate and tender, demanding and entreating, and Katy's lips blossomed under it like a bud unfurling beneath the sun. A soft moan escaped her as he explored the silken sweetness of her mouth with excruciating sensuality. She felt his tongue tracing her lips, delicately probing the sensitive membranes on the inside of her cheek. Trace had kissed her passionately many times but always before there had been that element of restraint, of rigid control. No more. He made no effort to curb his desire, and under the questing kiss, Katy felt her own control slipping, the last remnant of doubt and fear fading into oblivion.

"Oh, God, how I love you," he murmured thickly as his mouth trailed across her cheek. Katy was beyond reply, her body shivering deliciously as his tongue traced the convoluted swirls of her ear. His broad hand ceased its rhythmic caress of her hip to glide slowly upward. It paused briefly at the indented curve of her waist, then again to cup the warm fullness of her breast, before moving, with sure determination, to her shoulder. One at a time, the thin straps of her gown were moved aside, and the slippery material was lowered to her waist.

He drew back to look at her. Moonlight filtered through the lacy curtains at the window. In its dim, silvery glow his eyes burned feverishly.

"Beautiful. You're so beautiful."

His hand curved possessively around one breast, his fingers stroking softly over the curving slope.

Then Katy gasped and her mind went spinning out of control as his lips captured the rosy tip and tugged gently. Her flesh responded instantly, forming a hard bud of desire, achingly tight and tender.

Palm flat, fingers extended, his hand moved onto her quivering stomach, and instinctively Katy's body arched upward, liquid heat surging through her veins.

Her hands moved restlessly over the corded muscles in his neck and shoulders. "Trace. Oh, Trace," she moaned softly, lost to everything but the driving need that pulsed through her.

"I know, sweetheart. I know."

Abandoning her breasts, his mouth forged a moist trail upward, pausing on the way to delicately trace her collarbone and nibble at the underside of her jaw. Katy was caught in the exquisite rapture of the slow, tantalizing caress, and she waited breathlessly for his mouth to reclaim hers.

It was a few seconds before she realized that his hands had stilled, the softly spoken love words had ceased. Through the haze of passion clouding her vision Katy saw that Trace had pulled away and, propped on one elbow, was looking down at her expectantly. Heavy lidded eyes blinked once, twice, but he continued to watch her in that intent way, as though waiting for an answer to some unspoken question. Or had it been unspoken?

"Wha—what ..."

"Tell me what you want, Katy," Trace urged in a low whisper. "1 have to know, for both our sakes."

Confusion clouded her expression for a moment, then, slowly, the meaning of his words sank in, and her eyes widened. Trace wanted her to ask for his lovemaking!

Shock rippled through her. She couldn't! She simply couldn't!

But, looking into his face, Katy knew, with sickening certainty, that if she wanted a real marriage, she must. From the very beginning Trace had put the burden of decision on her, and he wasn't going to relieve her of it now. There would be no claims of coercion or seduction or misunderstanding later. If she wanted her husband, she would have to tell him so.

Gathering her courage, Katy swallowed hard and tried to force the words through her constricted throat, but they simply would not come. The inhibitions of a lifetime were just too strong. Feeling her happiness slipping away, Katy gazed back at him in mute desperation, tears welling up in her eyes.

Abruptly, Trace rolled away from her. Moving to the edge of the bed, he sat hunched over, elbows on knees, his head cradled in his hands.

Something about the rigidity of his back, the utter, absolute defeat in every line of his body, sent a chill through Katy. A panicky fear, worse than any she had ever known, began to build inside her, and she reached out to touch him.

"Trace, I . . ."

Violently, he jerked away.

"For God's sake, Katy, don't touch me! My control does have its limits!"

Flinching from the stinging lash of his angry voice, Katy drew back and huddled motionless against the pillows.

Trace reached out and flicked on the bedside lamp. Lifting a hand, he raked it through his hair, rumpling it even more than Katy's fingers had.

"I'm sorry, Katy. I didn't mean to snap. None of this is your fault," he said in a flat, dejected tone. Grim-lipped, he clasped his hands together between his knees and shot her a brooding look over his shoulder. "You tried to warn me that this might happen, but, arrogant fool that I am, I was positive I could make it work. I love you so much that I thought all I had to do was show you and give you time, and eventually you'd come to me. Tonight, when you seemed so happy to see me, I assumed ... Oh, hell! What difference does it make now."

Snatching up his robe from the end of the bed, he slid it over his shoulders and stood up. Katy felt cold and sick inside as she watched him walk away toward the dressing room. At the door he stopped and turned back to her with an odd, defeated smile on his lips. "I think, under the circumstances, I'd better sleep in the dressing room. No matter what the future holds for us, I don't want to break my word to you, and I'm afraid my control has been stretched to its outer limits. Good night, Katy."

The door clicked shut behind him, and Katy lay frozen. Why had she lain there like a statue? Why hadn't she found the courage from somewhere to tell him what he wanted to hear? Instead, by her silence she confirmed his mistaken assumption that she didn't love him or want him.

Turning her face into the pillow, Katy let the thick down muffle her sobs. She wept long and bitterly, her shoulders shaking as the terrible, wrenching cries tore from her throat, until finally the emotional storm was spent and she was drained.

Hours later she still lay, dry-eyed, staring at the ceiling, her emotions in utter turmoil. Like a swinging pendulum, her anger switched from herself to Trace, then back again. Couldn't he see, by her greeting, by the way she responded to his slightest touch, that she was his, totally? Why did he insist that she put her feelings and desires into words? That was asking too much. Couldn't he see that?