by Megan Hart
"What kind of lady removes her hat?” Jed exploded. It was all he could think of to say. Her hair had triggered a sensual response him that was actually becoming painful.
The sun on her hair had created a nimbus of light around her face, emphasizing her clear skin and those eyes, those stunning verdant eyes as bright as jewels. A man could lose himself in this woman's gaze for an eternity and neither notice nor care.
Looking away, Caitleen quickly pinned her hat back into place. Discreetly pretending to tuck some stray hairs underneath its brim, she wiped her eyes. Through the haze of arousal clouding his vision, Jed saw her perfect mouth was drawn down in dismay. Blazes, now he'd gone and made the girl cry!
Abruptly, Jed urged the horses to the side of the trail. Without a word, he hopped down from the bench and strode into the thicket of trees nearby. Once there, Jed forced himself to breathe deeply, pacing back and forth. Tarnation, but what this woman was doing to him! And seemingly without even realizing it. Jed was no stranger to the charms of women. In fact, he was rather used to women trying to catch his attention, but those were usually saloon girls, certainly not young ladies of higher breeding. Especially not a woman promised to marry his father.
"Jed Peters! What in heaven are you doing?” Caitleen's voice came from beyond the trees.
The fire in his groin was only partially subdued, but Jed strode out to the wagon nonetheless. Without a word, not trusting his voice, he motioned for her to get down from the bench.
Caitleen remained seated, obviously reluctant to attempt the climb by herself. “Why have we stopped?"
Her voice sent thrills through him. Low and melodic, it made him think of honey and chocolate, sweet and tangy all at once. Jed quickly reached up to the bench, grasped her around the waist and began to lift her down.
Taken by surprise, Caitleen fell into his arms for the second time since they had met. For a long moment their bodies remained pressed together, Caitleen's arms wrapped firmly around Jed's neck. Jed fought against crushing his mouth to hers. She was staring up at him, sweet pink lips parted so tantalizingly, and her bosom heaving so prettily. The fall had knocked her hat loose, exposing that glorious hair again. She felt so good in his arms, with her full breasts pressing against his chest.
"Why have we stopped?” Caitleen breathed. She was still allowing him to hold her. In fact, if anything, she was pressing against him even more.
Abruptly, Jed pushed her from him, fearing what he would do if he remained touching her for one more moment. Still not trusting himself to speak, he turned and strode toward the back of the wagon. Pulling a basket from among the other bundles, he headed to a clear spot in the grass.
"Mr. Peters! I am speaking to you!"
Jed turned toward Caitleen, whose dreamy look had faded. Now she was glaring at him again, green eyes sparking and auburn hair flaming in the sun. She had put both hands on her full, sensuous hips, a posture emphasizing her tiny waist.
"We are stopping to eat, Miss Chatterbox!” he snapped. “And put your hat back on. Are you some kind of hoyden?"
Caitleen gasped. Before Jed even knew what was happening, she had strode to him and slapped him soundly across the face. The crack echoed loudly around them, startling him further. The wench had actually struck him! His face tingled, the imprint of her fingers burned against his skin.
"You are the most insufferable, arrogant man I have ever met!” Caite raged, stretching to her full height. The top of her head came to just under his chin. “You knocked my hat off dragging me down from that wagon! How dare you accuse me of inappropriate dress or anything else! How dare you cast aspersions on my character!"
She slapped him again. Jed could only stare in amazement. In her rage, she was, if it was possible, even more breathtaking. Caitleen continued to rant at him, but he scarcely heard a word she was saying.
"Are you listening to me?” Caite cried angrily.
She moved as if to slap him a third time, but Jed quickly grabbed her upraised hand and held it in the air. The force of his grip caused her to stumble against him. Now, for a third time, she was in his arms. Thankfully, her temper was so inflamed she didn't notice the way his arms tightened convulsively around her, drawing her against his chest for a moment. She felt so dratted good in his arms, like she was meant to be there. The softness of her belly was a delicious torture against the throbbing bulge in his trousers, and Jed struggled mightily to keep from kissing her delectable, upturned mouth.
Furiously, Caitleen yanked her hand loose from his grip, forced herself out of his haphazard embrace, and stalked away. The two stood that way for a long moment, Caitleen facing away from him and Jed staring after her. Finally shaking himself mentally and physically, he strode to her and put his hand gently on her shoulder.
"Look, Miss O'Neal..."
Caite stiffened under his touch. “You may call me Caitleen, you know. Or even Caite. You need not be so formal."
"Caitleen..."
She turned to him abruptly. “After all, we are going to be a family now."
Her comment took Jed by surprise. Then he nodded. “Yeah, I reckon so."
"And families ought to get along, should they not?” Caite asked.
Jed laughed wryly. “I reckon so."
Caite smiled slightly. She held her hand to him. “Truce?"
Startled, Jed shook her offered hand. “What?"
"I call a truce,” said Caitleen. “Let us end this battle. We hardly know each other, Jed, but we're going to be stuck with each other for a long time. Shall we try to be friends?"
"Fair enough,” Jed answered. Glancing down, he realized he still clasped her hand. Smooth and white, it was half the size of his, but she gripped him with surprising strength.
"Very well then.” Caitleen released his grip, rubbed her hands together briskly, and stepped toward the wagon. “Now, what do we have for lunch?"
Just like that, Jed thought. He wasn't aware he was smiling. She was furious, and now she's talking about lunch.
"Lunch, Jed? Or are we going to climb back up in that wagon and ride until we drop of hunger?” Caite's words were scolding, but her tone was light, and a smile tugged the corner of her lips.
"I had the Lonesome Hotel pack a basket for the trip,” Jed answered. “I reckon it won't be as good as our Cooky's back home, but it should be all right."
Caitleen's full smile nearly knocked him backward with the force of her beauty. If he'd thought her breathtaking in anger, she was doubly so when she smiled.
"See?” she said. “I knew we'd have something in common. We both like to eat!"
Jed watched as Caitleen busied herself spreading the cotton blanket on the ground and unpacking the food. As she pulled more and more items from the basket, she started giggling softly. Soon, as she pulled each item from the seemingly bottomless basket, she progressed to laughing out loud.
"What's so funny?” Jed asked, bemused by her reaction.
"I never saw so much food for two people in my life!” Caite laughed, emptying the last of it. “Fried chicken, biscuits, corn on the cob, roast beef, apple pie ... you have enough food here for at least a week!"
Jed thought of his expectations of what the mail-order bride would be. “I was expecting someone ... larger,” he stuttered awkwardly. The beautiful and slender woman before him was the complete opposite of what he had pictured.
"Larger? Why on earth?” Caitleen asked, thoroughly puzzled.
To his discomfort, Jed felt the beginnings of an embarrassed flush begin to spread up from his collar to his neck. “Well, I figured a woman who would consent to be a mail-order bride would ... well..."
"Would what, Mr. Peters?” Caitleen asked suspiciously, her marvelous green eyes narrowing.
"Well, have a healthy appetite,” Jed finished.
"Fat, you mean,” Caite added. “Fat, homely and unable to get a man."
"Yes, I thought that,” Jed admitted, bracing himself for her fury.
Instead, Caitleen smiled
sadly. “There are other reasons why a woman would agree to marry a man she doesn't know."
"What are your reasons?” Jed asked before he could stop himself.
"So, you think I have reasons other than being large and homely, do you?” Caite teased gently.
"Homely! Have mercy, you're the prettiest—” He abruptly stopped himself, looking quickly away from her questioning eyes. He strode a few steps away from her, back turned. Guilt and anger warred in him, and he struggled to maintain control of his emotions. Was she deliberately teasing him?
"I believe I shall assume that was a compliment,” Caite said to break the short, awkward silence. Taking a deep breath, she declared bravely, “We're going to be a part of each other's lives for a very long time, Jed. I'm happy you find me acceptable."
"Acceptable!” Jed exploded incredulously, turning toward her. His green eyes, so like her own, blazed with a fire Caitleen misconstrued as anger.
Trying to placate him, Caite got to her feet and moved toward him. Meaning to apologize, she reached to touch his arm. “Jed—"
"Stars above, woman!” Jed cried. “You are the most gorgeous creature I have ever seen, I can barely keep myself from kissing you, and you are happy I find you acceptable!"
Jed knew if he said much more he would make her cry again. A woman's tears had always softened him, and he knew he could not afford to weaken where Miss Caitleen O'Neal was concerned. Abruptly, he buttoned his mouth and stomped away to force himself to cool down. This woman riled him so he could scarcely think and, given the current situation, that was very dangerous indeed.
* * * *
Despite his obvious anger, Jed's words made Caite's heart leap in her chest. He thought of kissing her! He must like her, after all, even if it was only a little bit. She squared her shoulders. A little bit was all she needed. She followed him to where he paced beside the wagon.
"I'm not offended you want to kiss me, Jed."
Jed stared at her for a moment. “Then you are not much of a lady."
Stung, Caite stepped back. “You're always accusing me of not acting like a lady, Jed Peters, when it is you who prompt me into doing or saying the very things you seem to hold in so little regard!"
Caite turned from him, moving back to the blanket where the picnic waited. Her appetite had fled, but she vowed not to let that arrogant, churlish man see how his words had affected her. Although her stomach churned from the effort of fighting back angry tears, Caitleen forced herself to sit and begin slicing some fried chicken for herself.
"You had best come and eat,” she uttered quietly. “We have the rest of the journey ahead of us, and it will not do to travel on an empty stomach."
Jed said nothing. Caite forced herself to speak again, although her throat felt so tight every word was a struggle. At least her voice did not waver and betray her dismay. “I promise not to seduce you with my hoyden ways,” said Caite, still not turning to face him. “If you like, I'll even sit where you will not have to look at me."
"I don't reckon you have to do that."
"Are you certain?” Caite struggled to keep her shoulders from shaking with the effort of holding back her tears. “I would not want to offend you, Jed."
"I said that won't be necessary, Caitleen,” Jed repeated brusquely. “I believe I can control myself."
Caite nodded, brushing the hated tears away, and handed him a plate. They spent the rest of the meal in awkward silence.
After the clearing the meal and repacking the basket, Caite busied herself brushing off her clothes, repinning her hat securely on her head, and anything else to excuse her from looking at Jed. He was completely confusing to her, this man who would be her husband. Even the thought he found her attractive did little to lift her spirits. After all, what good was it that he thought she was pretty, if he still hated her?
It's up to me, she thought, to bring peace to this relationship. The thought of living the rest of her life with a man who hated her was unbearable, worse than marriage to Hammond. She would have to make Jed love her, no matter how daunting a task it seemed.
"It's time to get back on the road,” Jed declared finally.
Caite could tell he had been busy with invented chores of his own. Anything to avoid the awkward moment when he would need to lift her onto the wagon seat, even if it meant delaying their journey by an hour.
Caite nodded, moving to the buckboard. She was looking forward to the lift no more than Jed was. She waited patiently, silently, sadly. She did not even turn when she heard Jed behind her.
"Caitleen,” Jed said awkwardly.
"Yes?” Still, she did not turn.
"Please look at me."
She complied, but would not meet his eyes.
"Please look at me, not the ground,” Jed asked.
Their eyes met. Hers were guarded, her expression carefully blank. “Yes, Jed?"
"Caite, I ... oh, blast!” Jed sputtered. “Listen, Caite, I'm sorry."
"You don't need to apologize to me."
"Yes, I do,” Jed stated stubbornly. “I've been thinking about what you said earlier—that we're going to be a family—and I reckon you're right. We should be able to get along, Caite. I'm sorry for the way I acted before, it's just..."
"Just what, Jed?"
"You're not like any woman I've ever met, that's all,” Jed said finally.
"Well, if it's any consolation to you, Jed,” replied Caitleen, “you're just the same as every man I've ever met."
Then, without another word, she grasped the high seat of the wagon and pulled herself aboard.
CHAPTER 2
They rode in awkward silence for several hours, neither speaking except for Jed's occasional shouts to the horses. The wagon moved along at a good pace, bouncing in ruts and jarring its passengers, but Caitleen made no complaint. She merely sat ramrod straight, hands folded in her lap, eyes staring ahead.
Jed allowed himself to look only rarely at her, for every glance at her strained face troubled him. Maybe he shouldn't have been so harsh with her. In the next instant, however, he thought of the way she had felt in his arms, and cursed the circumstances that had brought them together. She was a mail-order bride! She was not supposed to be so lovely. Her beauty was only going to cause trouble.
It shouldn't matter what she looked like, he told himself. Fat, toothless crone or fresh-faced beauty, both should be the same to him. Except, of course, if she'd been fat and toothless he'd be thanking the stars she wasn't his, instead of cursing them because she was his father's.
At last he reined the horses to a stop. Caite, her expression neutral, remained staring straight ahead. Without meeting his gaze, she finally broke the silence.
"Why are we stopping this time?” Her tone was perfectly polite, perfectly proper ... and perfectly emotionless.
"We'll stop here for the night,” Jed told her, copying her tone exactly.
"Here?” Caite was incredulous, the steely facade she had maintained all afternoon beginning to crack. “I see no inn, no place to stay..."
"There is no inn,” Jed barked. “We make camp here."
"Camp!"
"Yes, camp, Miss Chatterbox!” Jed snapped. “We don't have any fancy hotels throughout these parts, so get used to it."
Caite's mouth thinned as she obviously struggled to maintain her temper. “I will manage just fine, Mr. Peters."
Jed leaped over the seat into the wagon bed and began untying ropes and shifting boxes. He had worked for some minutes, choosing supplies and repacking goods he would not need, before he looked up to see Caite still sitting stiffly on the front seat. Knowing she could not see him, Jed allowed the slightest touch of a grin to touch his lips. She was waiting for him to help her down. Well, he'd be darned if he'd wait hand and foot on some prissy lass from back East who didn't even know how to camp!
He jumped down from the wagon and started unloading the supplies he would need for the evening. He toyed with the idea of making camp even sparser than usual just to t
each Miss Caitleen O'Neal a lesson about life in Montana, but decided against it. Jed was no stranger to a hard bedroll and cold meals, but he didn't see any reason to inconvenience himself just to annoy a woman. She would learn soon enough running an estate in Pennsylvania was nothing like running a horse ranch in Montana.
"What are you waiting for? An engraved invitation?” Jed asked finally, loping over to the wagon and staring up at Caite.
She peered down at him formally. “I was waiting for you to offer your hand, Mr. Peters."
"You'll be waiting an awful long time, Miss O'Neal. I have more important things to do than cater to you!"
Her marvelous Irish eyes slitted again. “It is very high, Mr. Peters. In case you hadn't noticed, I am not attired for leaping on and off wagons. I presumed you would be a gentleman and offer to help me down!"
"You seemed to do all right before,” Jed remarked. Lord, she's beautiful. Even more so with the angry fire sparking from her eyes. He felt the telltale tightening in his groin and renewed his determination to resist her charms.
"I was angry before,” Caitleen retorted hotly, “and did not wish to feel your hands upon my person!"
"And so you want to feel my hands on you now, is that it?” Jed asked. As soon as the words left his lips he regretted them. The image of his hands on her body sent a shaft of quicksilver into his already throbbing groin. The thought of her actually wanting him to touch her, perhaps even begging him to lay his hands against her flesh, was nearly more than he could bear.
At his words, Caite gasped, her face pinking. “You are a low, scurvy...” Her vocabulary deserted her and she sputtered to a stop. Instead, she stood quickly, hands on hips, and glared at him. Her mouth worked as she tried, without luck, to think of something—anything—to put Jed Peters in his place. “Disrespectful lout!"
If only she knew how the sight of her heaving bosom was affecting him. “Hard words from someone supposed to be so genteel!"
"Oh, you!” Caite raged. She swung her arms as if to swat him, and lost her balance. For a moment she teetered precariously on the wagon's edge, arms flailing as she helplessly tried to regain her stance. Within moments, however, she was toppling forward in a tangle of petticoats and hat strings.