Forbidden Fire

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Forbidden Fire Page 21

by Bonnie K. Winn


  “But I…” Beth looked between them, searching for non-existent answers.

  “Jake and I have a different relationship, Beth, one we’re still trying to sort out.” She glanced quickly at Morgan, but he concealed whatever feelings her announcement caused.

  “Which leaves me free to ask you for this dance,” Morgan intervened, addressing Beth and easing the awkwardness between them.

  Beth craned her head back toward her sister as Morgan led her onto the dance floor, confusion still covering her face. When they moved away, Jake led Katherine onto the dance floor. “So you chose me after all.”

  “You doubted I would?”

  He quirked his eyebrows while guiding her around the room. “It was hardly a certain bet.”

  Although it wasn’t in her manner to be coy, Katherine couldn’t resist. “Are you saying you were holding your heart in your hand?”

  He whirled them toward the group of still “unclaimed” single men. “Odds were already set.”

  She glanced at the group of men lining the wall and felt her ego flatten slightly. “So, you’re saying you’re just glad not to be on the sidelines?”

  Pulling her closer than could ever be considered proper, his breath grazed her ear. “I don’t ever intend to be on the sidelines of your life, Katherine. You can take that bet to the bank.”

  Hot currents rippled her blood, weakening her even as they burned to the sound of the fiddle. The strength he often tempered with caution now overwhelmed her. He spoke with no timidity, and his actions revealed his determination. She sensed if she hadn’t confessed the truth about the fictitious marriage, Jake would have demanded it. She only hoped he realized she hadn’t decided to break off her partnership with Morgan.

  Jake’s show of strength was intoxicating. Always confident, now he was compelling. Despite the many eyes trained on them, he made it clear he’d been chosen by the woman he intended to court. Knowing they barely skirted danger made the admission even more heady.

  Jake shed his reserve, deciding that if he was to stay on as minister, he had to let the people know him as he really was. That included being a man who intended to squire the infamous Kitty O’Shea. He hadn’t made an easy or instantaneous decision and had mulled it over since Katherine had given herself to him. Seeing censorious gazes from the very people who would be called to testify in the lease dispute, he knew he had another cause to win.

  Even though Katherine had chosen him tonight, he had no assurance that she would do so again when confronted with the breakup of her business with Morgan. He had six months to win the fight of his life. Gazing into the velvety depths of Katherine’s eyes, he wasn’t certain what he’d do if he lost.

  Chapter 32

  Beth sipped her coffee while watching the others eat breakfast. Since the night of the Bachelor Ball, observing had become Beth’s passion. She found it amazing what could be learned by talking less, while listening and watching more. She certainly was part of a diverse and complex set of people in this “household.” And her watching had not gone unrewarded.

  Pretending interest in a popover, she watched the newlyweds. David and Rebecca exchanged shy, loving glances, their hands touching repeatedly at every possible occasion. Despite their difficult beginning, Beth saw the genuine love they shared. She sensed the couple had a wonderful future ahead if they could make it through the next traumatic year.

  Beth glanced around the table, continuing to observe the others, by now knowing many of their habits. Morgan was one of the most difficult people to decipher. A complex mixture of reserve and a strange sense of humor, he was a puzzle. His usual cynicism seemed tempered in the mornings, however, as though he unconsciously dropped his facade in the early light of day. She doubted he was even aware of the change.

  Hattie filled her coffee cup, and Beth smiled her thanks. She had come to realize that the woman reveled in bustling over them all, showering them with her affectionate mothering.

  After the ball Beth hadn’t been certain what to do with her newfound knowledge about Katherine and Morgan. Making a point to learn who all the girls in the Crystal Palace were, she had quickly discovered their very different personalities. Still not certain about Annette, Beth watched, guessing the woman held feelings for Morgan.

  Her sister’s partner was infinitely more difficult to discern, but she didn’t think he returned Annette’s attraction. Despite Katherine’s preference for Jake, Beth sensed that Morgan still held deep, undefined feelings for her sister.

  Most important for Beth, the last few days had provided a window into what had passed before her unseen since her arrival. She felt as though she’d existed under a cloud of cotton, not really knowing the sister she’d always loved and admired. After opening her own eyes to the truth, it was as though Katherine had taken on layers that Beth never knew existed.

  A visit from Bessie Johnson gave her a revealing picture of Katherine’s kindness to the people in the territory. Realizing that her sister had known the danger in giving David and Rebecca sanctuary, Beth was sobered by Katherine’s generosity. A chance comment of Sadie’s also revealed that Katherine had directed the town’s play despite being unwanted by most of the people in the community. It was as though she gave and gave, never expecting anything in return. Remembering all that Katherine had provided for her over the years, Beth wondered what the cost of her education and upbringing had meant to Katherine.

  Feeling as though she’d learned more in the past week than in the last several years, Beth leaned into the maturity that was beckoning. It also occurred to her that Morgan was the key to allowing Katherine her happiness.

  As the others drifted away, Beth sat quietly with Morgan, adding more coffee to his cup to keep him from leaving. Hattie cleared the table, humming under her breath as she worked.

  “Mrs. Browning coming in today, Hattie?” Morgan asked as he took another fresh biscuit from the tray.

  Smiling because Morgan appreciated her good cooking, Hattie answered cheerily, “I believe so.”

  “You going to teach her how to make biscuits this good?” he teased.

  “You think anybody can make biscuits like Hattie?” she challenged.

  “Nope. But then, she’s learning from the best.” Morgan smiled, and Hattie rapped his knuckles affectionately.

  “You’re teaching Mrs. Browning to cook?” Beth asked Hattie in surprise.

  Morgan answered for her. “It was Katherine’s idea, but I imagine her whole family’s glad of it.”

  Hattie rolled her eyes. “Especially Mr. Browning.”

  Another facet of understanding dawned. Beth wondered who else Katherine had helped since coming to Browning. Despite her youth, Beth knew her sister was fighting a difficult cause if she wanted to be accepted as someone the minister could court.

  Regardless of her own acceptance of Katherine’s occupation, she knew others wouldn’t be so forgiving. Unless, of course, they had reason to like Katherine. A seed of an idea sprouted, and Beth nurtured it as she continued to sip her coffee. Now she had to find out how much her sister truly cared for the reverend.

  Breathless, Katherine rushed to Jake’s house, knocking frantically on the door. When he yanked it open, she nearly fell inside.

  “Hello,” he greeted her, a lazy smile curling his lips. With his shirt unbuttoned, his feet bare, he obviously hadn’t finished dressing.

  “Is that all you have to say?” she said, panting.

  “I’m sorry. I’d have prepared a speech if I’d known you were going to crash in here looking—”

  “What about the emergency?” she demanded, breathing rapidly in exertion.

  “What emergency?” Puzzled, he stared at her.

  “I got this note that you needed to see me immediately—that there was terrible trouble.” She shoved the scrap of paper at him, pushing a wayward lock of hair away from her face.

  He gave the note a cursory glance before returning it. “This is a woman’s handwriting.”

  Examini
ng it, Katherine realized he was right. “Then you didn’t send it,” she concluded, her voice echoing in belated surprise, wondering who had.

  “Exactly.”

  Feeling slightly foolish, she gazed around the room, realizing she’d never been inside his home. “I didn’t mean to intrude. I’m sorry.”

  “I’m not.” Intent laced his words, and Katherine’s throat grew dry. The people usually surrounding them were absent. It was always such a highly maneuvered event to be alone. It seemed strange and somehow provocative to be thrust into the unplanned privacy.

  “And why is that?” Her voice was husky as she replied, unable to banish the stir of desire his words caused.

  Katherine felt as if she were playing with fire, highly volatile with beckoning flames. Stepping forward ever so slightly, she swayed close enough to smell the fresh aroma of his soap and nearly close enough to taste his breath as it brushed her cheek.

  One arm whipped around her, and she sank against him. The hard length of his body enticed her, and she was a willing captive. They had been apart too long, she realized as his lips covered hers. Far too long.

  Feeling the gentle tug of his hand, she went with him. The quiet of his unadorned room enveloped them as he pushed the door shut.

  Hands pushed at clothing that interfered with and restricted pleasure. Knowing that each moment could be bringing them closer to their last one stoked their desire and heightened their tension.

  A trail of discarded clothing littered the floor to the bed. Katherine didn’t remember the journey, but the softness of the mattress beneath was her proof she’d followed her instincts—the same instincts that led her to curl her fingers around his neck and then trail them over the sculpted muscles of his chest. Rays from the morning sun glinted on the golden swirl of hair that covered his torso. Nipping at the delectable texture of his skin, she sighed aloud when he responded in kind.

  Sunshine filtered through the curtains covering the window, throwing a latticed pattern of shadow and light over their bodies. Katherine fisted handfuls of Jake’s hair that gleamed in the light while arching beneath his expert hands. Kisses that were alternately tender and ruthlessly passionate expressed the love they’d denied themselves.

  Jake slid reverent hands over skin that felt like silken fire. Unable to believe she was beneath him one more time, fulfilling his dreams and frustrations, he embraced every emotion, worshipped every inch of flesh. Cupping her heavy breasts in his hands, he luxuriated in their fullness, then flicked his tongue over her nipples, pleased when they hardened in response.

  Traveling downward, he splayed his fingers over her midsection, then trailed his hands over her hips and down to the tender flesh of her thighs. He paused at the tousled curls at the apex of his ultimate destination. Parting those lips, he felt her shudder, sensed her excitement.

  But now he was impatient. Long, luxurious loving could wait. He wanted to be inside her, to acknowledge that she had chosen him. Feeling her legs tease the skin of his back and hips, he could wait no longer.

  Plunging inside, he reveled at her gasp of satisfaction. The nubile flesh beneath him ignited his desire. Feeling her shudders, he knew he could hold back no longer. But even as he rested his face against hers, pushing the wisps of curls from her damp skin, Jake knew he hadn’t begun to slake his thirst. Clearly there would be no easing of desire, no assurance of a future together. The sudden pounding of his heart signaled more than pleasure. The thought that he might no longer hold this woman in his arms, see her smile, hear her haunting voice, paralyzed him. Suddenly the countdown to the trial seemed far too close, its possible outcome far too frightening.

  Chapter 33

  Sedgelike grasses whistled in the always present wind while clouds scuttled across the darkening sky that heralded a possible storm. As winter pursued its relentless course across the land, the soft colors of summer stripped away, leaving miles of desolate brown. Trees, bare of their leaves, stood starkly against the grim landscape which seemed that much harsher without its protective layer of green.

  Securing the muffler more tightly about her neck, Katherine leaned closer to Jake, absorbing some of his warmth. Always leaping at opportunities to be alone with him, she had welcomed his company as they set out to visit Minerva Atkins and check on the painting she had agreed to do.

  “We’re almost there,” Jake said, pointing ahead.

  Approaching the dugout, Katherine’s eyes widened in surprise. The home looked like something mud daubbers had put together with the help of a long-tailed beaver. Rising up scarcely higher than a person’s head, the rounded bowlshaped structure was built on the side of a hill. By comparison, Jake’s one-room cabin was a mansion.

  While Jake helped Katherine down, Minerva pushed open the buffalo-skin flap that served as a door. Her tired, lined face lit up in greeting.

  “Reverend. Miss Katherine. I wasn’t expecting you.” She swatted ineffectually at the hair escaping from the knot at her neck while a tiny child clung to her skirt crying copiously.

  “The poor little thing.” Always able to strike a tender chord with her, the child pulled at Katherine. She stooped down closer, but Minerva shoved the child behind her. Affronted, Katherine realized she shouldn’t have been surprised, but still the prick of hurt surfaced.

  “Don’t want the boy to get skunk grease on you,” Minerva explained, stroking the tot’s hair. “Wouldn’t want to ruin that beautiful dress.”

  Her explanation took a moment to sink in. “Whyever does he have skunk grease on?” Katherine asked.

  “For the croup,” Minerva explained. “All of the kids came down with it. This one just won’t stay in bed. Come on in.”

  Following her, Katherine gazed about the one-room earthen home. Newspapers lined the walls while here and there a bit of gingham livened up the interior. Threadbare carpet partially covered the hard-packed dirt floor, and old crates served as benches and chairs. To one side a pile of old corncobs and woody sunflower stalks were stacked for fuel.

  A pipe for the stove ran up through the roof and jutted through the room. Inside the quarters were so tight, each inch seemed to be occupied. There barely seemed to be any space to stand and stretch. Appalled, Katherine wanted to offer the woman something, anything to cheer up her drab existence.

  “I meant to get into town with this,” Minerva offered, bringing forward the painting. Not certain what to expect, Katherine was amazed by the rendering. Tall stalks of wheat dominated the background of the canvas, allowing the focus to remain on the seemingly endless horizon. Minerva had indeed captured the essence of the Kansas prairie; even the wind seemed to stir as the stalks bent to its dominance.

  Truly awed, Katherine smiled at Minerva. “This is incredible.”

  “I know it’s not what you’re used to in fancy cities.”

  “No, it isn’t,” Katherine replied truthfully. “This is far lovelier.”

  A faint blush touched Minerva’s cheeks at the unexpected compliment. “I just paint what I see.”

  “You have quite a vision,” Jake added, studying the painting with admiration.

  “Thank you, Reverend.” The pink still flushed Minerva’s face as she bustled about the cramped space. “Let me fix you a hot drink.”

  “You needn’t bother,” Katherine began.

  But Minerva waved aside her protests. “It’s not fancy store-bought coffee, but it’s right tasty.”

  “Sounds good to me,” Jake interjected. “The wind’s enough to take your hide off.”

  “That it is, Reverend.” Minerva took the pot from the stove and poured the coffee into cracked cups.

  Tasting the drink, Katherine recognized the flavors of beans and rye. She smiled her appreciation, indicating the drink to be equally as good as the coffee she was used to. It was an easy ruse, since she didn’t want Minerva to feel embarrassed by her meager supplies.

  Two of the children awoke and voiced their hunger. Katherine watched as the woman prepared tiny portions of mush,
ground corn made into hominy. It looked neither filling nor nourishing. Appalled, she stared at Jake, who cautioned her with his expression to remain silent.

  “We didn’t intend to stay so long,” Katherine began as Minerva finished serving the children.

  “I welcome the company. My husband’s out hunting for winter meat. Now that the buffalo are gone, it’s harder to come by.”

  Katherine wanted to empty her purse in the woman’s hands and tell her to buy the children what they needed. Knowing it would hurt her fierce pride, Katherine resisted, instead visiting far longer than they intended.

  When she and Jake tacitly agreed it was time to depart, Katherine folded the money for the picture into Minerva’s hand.

  Glancing at the amount, Minerva protested. “But this is more than twice what we agreed on.”

  “The picture is more than twice as good as I thought it would be,” Katherine answered. “Use it to buy something for yourself or the children.”

  “You needn’t be feeling sorry for me, Miss Katherine.” Minerva gestured to her cheerless house. “It might not seem like much of a life.” She paused, her eyes filling with memories. “But the land, it gets in your blood. The prairie, the hills.” Minerva walked with them out of the cramped house, stopping to stare at the fleecy clouds driven by never-ending winds. “From here I can see the horizon anytime I want. I wouldn’t give it up.”

  “We didn’t mean to imply anything about your house.” Katherine was ashamed that she’d let the woman see her pity.

  Minerva managed a laugh. “It’s all right. When we came here the first winter, we lived in a wagon. This dingy hole seemed like paradise after that. I know it’s not much by some people’s standards, but it’s our home.”

  “And I appreciate your inviting me here,” Katherine answered truthfully. “If I could come back, I’d like to bring the children some sassafras tea. When I was a child and didn’t feel well, my mother gave it to me. Somehow it made even the measles or croup seem bearable.”

 

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