Harmony (Journey's End Book 3)

by Victoria Phelps

  “I understand,” she whispered.

  “Thank you, Harmony.” Matt gave her bottom a light spank. “You’ve earned a spanking. I should spank you into next Sunday as my ma said. I can’t even think about the way that man would have treated you. Makes my blood run cold. We’ll be here for some days while this storm blows over. We’ll have time to heal and rest. When your injuries are gone, I’ll spank you.”

  “Can’t we just get it over with?” Harmony begged.

  “No, I’ll never spank you when you’re ill or injured. No man worth his salt would do that.” His voice rang with conviction.

  “We’re both still exhausted. Let’s rest,” Matt suggested. “You’re almost asleep now.”

  They moved by the bed and he stood her in front of him. “Lift your arms,” he instructed.

  Her sweater was removed in a single whoosh. Then her skirt dropped to the floor and she stood in her chemise and bloomers. “There. Now you can rest comfortable.” He laid her on the bed before removing his own clothes and slipping under the covers to join her.

  “Sleep, darlin’.” His breath was hot and moist in the shell of her ear.

  Harmony nodded. She was already sinking into slumber. Dreaming of a future as Matt’s wife where she was loved and cared for.

  “Sweet dreams,” she murmured.

  He pulled her close to his warm body and clamped a muscled arm around her middle. They fell into the intimacy of shared sleep.

  Chapter 8

  The first rays of dawn shone weak and weary through the cabin’s single window. Matt yawned and stretched. Harmony lay on her side, her legs drawn up to her chest, her head rested on his shoulder. He watched her while the sun continued to climb. She’d said she would marry him. He’d arrived in Denver in search of another Melody. He’d been luckier still. He’d found Harmony.

  He wrestled his arm from under her head and replaced it with a pillow. They’d slept the rest of yesterday afternoon and through the night. He’d heard the storm raging on, banging at the window, howling at the door.

  Matt pulled his clothes on and laced his boots. If he didn’t get the snow blocking the door cleared away, they could be stuck in the cabin until a good thaw. He pushed against the door, but a heavy pile of snow had created a barricade. He cursed himself for not seeing to this yesterday, but he hadn’t thought he’d sleep until morning. He added wood to the fire until the blaze began to heat the chilly room.

  He journeyed through the passageway into the little shed and retrieved a shovel. Matt pushed against the door again and felt slight movement. Placing his eye to the crack, he peered into the world of white, waist deep snow. He leaned against the door, over and over, jabbing at the snow with his shovel when the space allowed.

  “What are you doing?” Harmony’s sleep-filled voice asked.

  “I’ve got to get the snow away from the door and keep it that way. We don’t want to be trapped in the cabin,” he explained.

  Harmony joined him. “Let me help.”

  Together they pushed. Then Matt knocked the snow away. They repeated the process until the space allowed Matt to slip through.

  “I’ll clear a path,” he called. “Close the door so the cabin stays warm. I’ll be in soon.”

  Snow continued to fall, but had lost its fierce howl. Matt shoveled and threw the snow to the side until he had created an exit. He wouldn’t let the job get ahead of him again.

  “It’s done,” he panted as he entered the cabin. His shirt was soaked with sweat, and his pants saturated with water.

  “Take those wet clothes off, Matt. You’ll catch your death.” She poured hot water into a basin. “This will help you warm up.” She stood, arms akimbo, while he pulled his shirt over his head. The exertion from shoveling had reopened his knife wound and blood oozed red. “Look what you did,” she exclaimed. “Let me clean that.” With an impatient huff, she seized a cloth and held it to his wound.

  He let her dab at his shoulder before circling her with a strong arm. “You sound like a wife already, darlin’. Nagging and knowing best,” he laughed. “It makes me a happy man to have you fuss over me.”

  Harmony leaned into his chest with a satisfied snuggle.

  He gave her bottom a friendly pat. “Let me change, and then we’ll eat.”

  When he was dry and warm, they stood in front of the counter in the tiny kitchen. “Put about three cups of flour in that bowl and add a teaspoon of this baking soda.” He shook a little bag. “Mix it up and add two eggs. I wish I had milk, but we’ll make do with water.” He watched as Harmony gave the egg a gentle tap. He took it from her hand. “Like this.” He rapped the egg firmly on the side of the bowl, separated the two halves and let the egg fall into the bowl. He handed her the second egg and watched with satisfaction as the second egg joined the mix.

  “Stir it,” he instructed.

  While she blended the mixture, he added water until the batter was thick. Then he tossed in a bit of salt. He poured a circle of batter on the hot stovetop. When bubbles appeared on the surface, he flipped it and waited. When the bottom was a golden brown, he scooped it up with a spatula and dropped it onto a plate.

  “Pancakes,” he declared. “Your turn,” he said as he handed her the bowl.

  She imitated his actions and soon added another pancake to the plate. It was not round, more of a misshapen oval, but Harmony beamed happiness at her success.

  “You keep doing that until the batter runs out. I’ll fry up some bacon,” Matt said.

  Matt poured syrup onto his pancakes and handed her the bottle. They ate in silence for a bit.

  “Will you really marry me, Harmony?” Matt couldn’t help but ask her again. He couldn’t believe his luck. He loved this golden-haired girl.

  She paused with a fork of pancake half-way to her mouth. “Yes, Matt. I will. I want to be your wife. I want you to be my husband.” He watched that pancake disappear between her pink lips and groaned.

  “When?” he asked.

  “Pardon?”

  “When will you marry me?” he clarified.

  “Well, as soon as possible.” She bit into the crispy bacon. Her pink tongue darted out and swept across her lips. He moaned.

  “How about,” he set his fork down, “now?”

  “Now?” she repeated. “How can we get married now?”

  “Already, you are the wife of my heart. That’s what really matters. Nothing and nobody can ever change that.” He took a sip of his coffee to gain a moment. He didn’t want to push her, or make her do anything she didn’t want to do. He plunged on with his idea. “I thought we could make our vows, here, now, and become man and wife in heart and spirt. When we reach Franklin, we’ll hunt up the preacher first thing and make it legal. We’ll wait if you want. More than anything, I want you to be happy.” He rested his eyes on her face.

  Thought and emotion ran through her transparent blue eyes. “In Chicago, it’s the show that mattered. The betrothal, the parties, the presents, the dress, were what counted. But here with you, we matter. We want this life and this marriage. For ourselves.”

  He nodded. “It’s a commitment we make to each other—sacred and unbreakable.”

  “Will you want to…” She glanced at the bed.

  “Oh, yes, I surely will,” he stated.

  “I don’t know much about what will happen. I have an idea of it, but…” Her voice faded.

  “You’ll be my wife. I won’t ever do anything to hurt or frighten you. You can always tell me what you want. You can tell me to stop. I won’t like it much, but I’ll do it.”

  Harmony pushed her plate away and rose from her chair. “All right,” she whispered. “Let’s get married.”

  Matt led her to a warm spot in front of the fire. He held both her hands in his and cleared his throat. “I, Matthew Cullen, take you Harmony Williams, to be my wife. I promise to cherish you in sickness and in health, for richer or poorer, in good times and bad. I promise to love and honor you as long as we both shall
live.” He winked at his bride. “I know that’s not exactly right, but I mean every word.”

  She dazzled him with a smile. “I, Harmony Williams, take you, Matthew Cullen, to be my husband. I promise to cherish you in sickness and health, for richer or poorer, in good times and bad. I promise to love, honor, and obey you as long as we both shall live.”

  “Thank you for that, Harmony. I hoped you would promise to obey.” He pulled her close. “Now I get to kiss my bride.” He adjusted her head to his liking and supported it with one large hand before sealing his lips over hers. His tongue swept across her mouth until she allowed him entrance.

  “You deserve a proper wedding night, darlin’,” Matt crooned into her ear. “There’s a tub in the shed. We’ll heat water for a bath. We’ll have fried chicken for dinner, and then we’ll have our wedding night. If you’re willing, that is.”

  “I am,” she acknowledged.

  Matt pulled the tub into the main room and stoked the stove red hot. He heated pan after pan of water until it would cover her body. A bar of soap lay on a shelf in the shed, and he found a clean towel.

  “While you bathe, I’ll give you your privacy. I have a job to do outside.” He disappeared down the passageway and reemerged with a chicken squawking under his arm. Matt opened the door, slipped out, and closed it behind him.

  He figured by the time he had the chicken gutted and plucked, he’d be near frozen and Harmony would have finished her bath.

  He was right on both counts. Harmony sat before the fire drying her honey-colored hair in front of the blaze. Lord have mercy, he wanted her. Matt filled his lungs with air and released a slow breath. He’d promised her a proper wedding night, and she’d have it. He hung his coat from the terrible third hook, and joined her. Matt settled her between his legs and took over the job of running fingers through her hair to help it dry. They relaxed in silence for a while, but Matt felt the need to explain a thing or two before matters took a more intimate turn.

  “I was jealous of Mitch,” he blurted. “I thought Melody was the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen until I met you. I didn’t really need to escort that criminal to Denver, although the marshal was mighty glad I did. Saved him the trip. I came for you.”

  Harmony turned to see his face. “You did?”

  He nodded. “I had a feeling in my gut. I had to be the one to fetch you. I didn’t know if you’d like me, but I had hope.”

  “Did you want me to be Melody?” Hurt and confusion fluttered across her eyes.

  “No, I didn’t know what to expect. I felt called to come. I can’t explain it more than that, it was a powerful draw. I couldn’t ignore it. But darlin’, never doubt, never, that it’s you I love. You and Melody look alike, but you are not the same. I’d know you anywhere. I’d know you blindfolded.” He paused. “I thought you should know I had feelings for you before we met, if that makes sense.”

  She relaxed back into his arms. Matt exhaled a sigh and relief swept him from head to foot. He didn’t want to start their marriage with words unsaid.

  “Do you think Melody will like me?” Her mouth turned down and fine lines bracketed her mouth.

  “Melody will be crazy in love with you. She has talked of little else since she discovered your existence. My real fear is she won’t let you loose long enough to have time for your husband.” He kissed the top of her head. Mercy, her hair smelled good. “I’ll be jealous most likely.” He chuckled, but he was afraid it was more truth than not.

  They basked warm and safe in front of the fire. Harmony told him of her grandmama and her stern ways. She’d not had much freedom. Her grandmama was always vigilant and afraid to lose another girl to an inappropriate fellow. Matt laughed. He expected she’d see him as just that sort.

  When hunger roared, Matt patted her thigh. “Let’s make dinner.”

  He set her to peeling some potatoes and chopping an onion while he dredged the chicken in flour. Matt arranged the pieces in a heavy skillet.

  “Cut the potatoes in little pieces like this.” He demonstrated the procedure. “Then we’ll fry them with the onion. It’s good eating,” he grinned.

  Supper was a feast. Matt added pickles and opened a jar of peaches. That mountain man had been one son-of-a-bitch, but he’d surely known how to lay in provisions.

  When they pushed back from the table, he brought out the bottle of whiskey they’d used to disinfect their wounds. He’d seen Harmony’s timid glances at the bed. A toast or two would help her relax. He hoped.

  He poured some of the amber liquid into tin cups. “Take a sip, darlin’,” he coaxed.

  She looked with suspicion into her cup. “Grandmama always said liquor was the Devil’s drink,” she whispered.

  “She was right in a way. Some men can’t have one drink or two. Alcohol becomes all they can think about. It rules them. They forget to feed their wife and children. Some become violent and some cry like babies.” He swirled his cup. “You don’t have to worry. I don’t have that trouble. A little whiskey soothes a fella. Takes the sting out of a hard day. It adds to a celebration, and I want to celebrate. Touch your cup to mine,” he instructed.

  The cups clinked, and Matt pulled her close. “To us. To many years of love and happiness. I am more thankful than I can say that I knew I needed to come for you. You hold my heart, Harmony. I love you.” He raised his cup in a little salute. The liquid ran a friendly fire down his throat.

  “Take a sip,” he encouraged.

  Harmony put the cup to her lips, tipped it back, and swallowed. She spluttered and choked. A little whiskey sprayed into the air. Matt patted her back and chuckled.

  They returned to the comfort of the fire. Harmony sipped with more and more confidence until she showed Matt the bottom of her cup. He poured another for himself and a splash for his new wife who was snuggled warmly in his lap giggling when she couldn’t figure out how to unbutton his shirt. Yup, that was enough for his little gal. Tipsy was fine. Passed out would spoil all his plans.

  When the cups were empty for the second time, he set them on the floor. He cradled Harmony in his arms and lowered his mouth to hers. The kiss began like a gentle shower but passed through hard rain and entered thunderstorm before he lifted his head.

  “Time for bed,” he declared.

  Harmony nodded and threw her arms around his neck. He carried her to the bed and sat her on the edge. Sliding his hands up her thighs he found, to his delight, that she had no drawers. He looked up at her, amazed and astonished.

  She laughed. “They were wet.” Her whisky words slightly slurred.

  “Lie back,” he ordered.

  Harmony plopped back with a bounce. “Like this?” she asked.

  “Just like that,” he assured her. He slid the skirt up her legs until it was crumpled at her waist. He placed a big hand on either thigh and pressed them apart. His heart skipped a painful beat at that beauty. She was so soft, so warm, so his. He slid one long finger up and down Harmony’s luscious outer lips until they parted and allowed further view and further entrance. His finger broached his woman’s entrance, and he pressed in. Lordy, she was tight and small. He needed to keep control and give her time to be ready for him.

  Harmony gave a small squeak, and he withdrew his probing finger.

  “Lift up,” he ordered. When her bottom cleared the bed, he pulled her skirt over her hips and into a pool at her feet. He admired her rounded belly and imagined his child cradled between those hips. After helping her to sit, he pulled her sweater and chemise over her head. He removed his shirt, and joined her.

  “Just relax, darlin’,” he whispered. “Relax, and let me love you.”

  When Harmony patted his naked chest with her small hand, he fell to the feast. He pulled a nipple into his mouth and sucked, swirled his tongue over the hard peak and took a tiny bite. The other breast came next. Harmony’s hips began a gentle rock, and he slid his hand down her abdomen and cupped her in his hand. She pressed into him, and he renewed his attention to h
er breasts. The more he sucked and pulled, the more insistent the movement into his hand.

  Once more he let his fingers part her feminine lips. Keeping his mouth busy at her breasts, he slid a finger into her channel. His heart jumped. She was wet and slick and dropped her legs wider. He didn’t need her to ask him twice, he pushed his finger in and out, in and out, until her juices flowed into his hand. Cautiously he added a second digit. She was so darn tight.

  Harmony whimpered, and he swallowed her small protest with a long, wet kiss.

  He left both fingers in place and pressed them apart in an effort to widen her passage. He intended to consummate their marriage, he surely did, but he wanted his wife to enjoy their union, not find it painful. He’d known a fella who’d confided that his wife always entered their bed with fear plain as day on her face. Their bed would be one of joy and sharing. He’d see to it.

  He kissed his way down her body until his head rested between her legs. He draped her long limbs over his shoulders and let his tongue seek her entrance. Harmony pushed against his shoulders.

  “Shh, shh,” he soothed. “Let me love you.” His command worked a second time, and she let her body loosen.

  His tongue replaced fingers and set a new rhythm. When she responded, he pressed against the nub at the apex of her channel. She gripped his shoulders and arched her back in pleasure. He pressed again and again until she rocked in a mindless rhythm, oblivious to the world around them. Keeping steady pressure with his tongue, he returned his fingers to her wet tunnel and worked there until her internal muscles squeezed his fingers, and she jerked with her release. He rode every wave and prolonged her climax until she shuddered to a finish.

  Rising from the bed, he dropped his pants. He hoped to be joined with her before she’d completely come back to herself. Damn. He’d not been fast enough. Harmony stared wide-eyed at his erection.