by Jillian Hart
“That’s what you think, huh?” He tossed down his towel, a big bulky form huddled between the window and the hutch. “Let’s see you run, pretty lady.”
He ducked his head and charged like a bull straight at her. She felt a wild flutter of panic because he was twice her size and he could knock her to the ground in a second flat. Then she saw his arms reach out to grab her, and she knew she was safe. And at the advantage.
She hit him twice, the ends of the towels cracking him in the dead center of his head. It didn’t stop him and she squealed as his arms came around her. His head brushed the dip of her waist. In one rush, he scooped her onto his shoulder, bottom up, her face looking him in the back, and swirled in a big circle in the center of the kitchen.
“Who’s the victor now, little woman?” His laughter vibrated through him and into her, a wonderful life-affirming feeling that chased away the darkness in the room and the shadows from her heart.
She laughed, deep and loud, wrapped her arms around his broad waist and held on to his solid, hot, male body as they went ’round and ’round together.
“Are you ready to surrender?” he demanded.
“No.”
He spun faster. “Are you sure?”
“Yes, except I’m getting dizzy.”
“Ha! I thought that would get to you.” Laughing, holding her safe, he lifted her off his shoulder, into his arms, and lowered her to the floor. He held her steady as she swayed on her feet.
“You broke the rules,” she told him as soon as the room stopped spinning.
“What rules? I didn’t hear you list any.” He pulled out a chair and helped her sit. “Are you all right?”
“Absolutely not. I have a cheater for a husband.”
“Hmm, you didn’t say I couldn’t wrestle you.” He pushed the tangled hair out of her eyes with a tender swipe of his big hand. “But let’s get this straight. I’m as faithful as the day is long, and I’ll never cheat on you. To prove it, I’ll be a good sport and help you dry the dishes. But don’t forget tomorrow night to find enough time to rub my feet.”
She opened her mouth to protest, but then his promise to her sunk in. He was a man she could count on. Trust. A man faithful only to her.
Surely that meant he wanted her in his bed, to love her as his real wife. In time, when his grieving for Lida was through.
Hope flared to life within her, big and full and glowing.
Spying the narrow line of light shining beneath his son’s bedroom door, Nick gave a knock before he walked in. Joey’s room was dark except for the faint glow of the lamp by his bed, turned to the lowest notch. It cast a wavering orange glow onto the book propped on the comforter, concealing the boy behind it.
“Past your bedtime, son.”
Joey lowered the book. “Can I read to the end of the chapter?”
“How many pages is that?” Nick had been tricked by this one before.
Joey bent his head, diligently counting. “Four whole pages and a part of one.”
“Okay, then.” Nick took a step back into the hall, but something kept him from closing the door. A father’s instincts, he suspected. Joey had kept by either him or Pop for most of the day in the fields, but he’d been unusually quiet. And spent a good deal of time, like his father had, casting long silent looks toward the house.
Maybe there were some things needing to be said. Nick let the door click behind him and padded across the darkened room. “We’re both caught in uncharted waters, aren’t we, son? There’s this woman in the house cooking for us, and we hardly know her.”
“I heard you laughing. You know her real good.” Joey’s brow furrowed and he bowed his head, staring hard at the open page in front of him.
Nick sat on the bed. “Scoot over. Make room for your old man.”
Joey sighed, put down the book, and schooched over a few inches. “I know you’re gonna say I gotta like her.”
“That’s not what I’m here to say.”
“She told you, didn’t she?” Joey’s face scrunched up, a show of belligerence, but it didn’t take a wise man to see the pain shining in his eyes. “She shouldn’t a done that. She shouldn’t a told.”
“All right, time to ante up. Tell me what you did.”
“Nothin’.” Joey bit his lip to keep it from trembling.
“Is it something that upset Mariah?”
“I don’t know. Maybe.” That bottom lip trembled some more, but he was tough, bucking up. He didn’t so much as sniffle.
Poor kid. This wasn’t easy for him. “I know you miss your ma.”
He nodded, dark locks tumbling forward to hide his eyes. There was a little-boy sweetness to him, but a solid strength, too.
Proud of his son, Nick cupped him on the shoulder, man to man. “Mariah isn’t here to replace your mother. You know that, right?”
One narrow shoulder lifted in an uncertain shrug.
Ah, the real problem. “No one can ever do that.”
“Ma wanted to leave us. I know she did.” Joey fisted both hands. “Before she passed on to heaven, she wanted to leave. I know all about that.” The betrayal still stung deep, and Joey didn’t know the half of it. Never would, if Nick had any say to it. A boy needed a mother he could respect. It made a difference in the man he would become. No good would come of the boy knowing his mother’s quest for happiness ended up in more than one man’s bed—men she wasn’t married to.
“This lady, is she gonna leave, too?”
“Not to my knowledge.” How could he make promises to his son that it wasn’t up to him to keep? Nick would gamble his heart that Mariah would keep her vows, but his son’s? “I have faith in her. I think you can, too.”
“I heard Pop say that you made a real mistake.” Joey let out a pent-up sigh that sounded suspiciously close to a sob. “That you shouldn’t a done it. That we’d all come to regret it.”
“Pop don’t know everything there is to know. And he doesn’t know Mariah. Not like I do.” He’d hold his anger back until he could have a talk with Pop. Let him know he wasn’t helping matters. “I wouldn’t have married her if I thought she wouldn’t pull through for us. She took real good care of Georgie today. Did you see that?”
“I guess.” Joey’s knuckles turned white.
“I’m sure this is gonna work out. Do you know why?”
The boy shook his head.
“Because Mariah used to live all alone in her house in town. She didn’t have any family. Not a mother or a father. No brothers or sisters. And no children of her own. Don’t you think that’s got to be pretty lonely?”
“No.” Stubbornly he set his chin. His brows crinkled together in thought. “Maybe.”
“I married her because I thought she wanted a family more than anything. So that’s why I think she’s going to stick with us. Because that’s what families do, right? They stick together.”
“Through thick and thin.” Joey’s fists relaxed. He tugged at a thread in the sheet hem, pulling it until it was a few inches longer than it had been. “I don’t care, for me, you know. But Georgie needs a mother. She keeps runnin’ off.”
“She didn’t try it today. Mariah made sure of it, just like she’s going to do from now on.”
Joey didn’t say anything, as if he wasn’t willing to put too much belief in a woman who could leave.
Nick couldn’t blame him. He had problems with Mariah, too. “To the end of the chapter and then I want this light out, partner. Do I have your word on that?”
The boy nodded, head bent, already escaping into his book.
Nick wished he could take on his son’s worries and hurts, but that wasn’t the way life was. Troubled, he closed the door tight. Mariah wasn’t going to let them down, he knew it. And in time, Joey would see it, too. He’d understand that some women could be counted on.
He felt Mariah an instant before he heard the pad of her step on the hallway carpet. It was an awareness of her presence, like an awakening of his senses, from dark to lig
ht, from silence to singing. And there she was, wrapped in a brown housecoat, the white ruffle of her nightgown showing above her stockinged feet.
“Nick, I should have asked. Did you want a warm cup of milk?”
“Are you joking? Tough men like me don’t drink hot milk. We chew on nails when we can’t sleep.”
“Foolish of me to even ask. Next time I offer to do something nice for you, I’ll just spare myself the display of manly arrogance and kick my own shin. It would be less painful.”
Ordinarily, Mariah would have said that insult with a sharp hook in her voice that was as mean and keen as barbed wire. But this Mariah—his wife—marched coyly past him to her bedroom, her hips swaying beneath the smooth fall of brown fabric. Her hair was down, tumbling everywhere in a wild disarray of golden curls that fell to the small of her back and swished with the rhythm of her gait.
She spun to face him and the snug bodice of her housecoat clung to her unbound breasts, snaring his gaze. Her breasts were full and round and made for a man to appreciate.
“I have a few errands tomorrow. I have the last of my laundry deliveries to make and then I’m meeting a few of my friends in town.”
He snapped his gaze to hers and kept it there. What did she say? He had no idea, so he said the safest thing. “Yep.”
“Just so you know, I’ll have dinner on the table before I go, and you’re to leave the dishes where they are when you’re finished eating. Your father said he’d keep Joey with him, and I’ll take Georgie with me.”
“Sounds like you thought of everything.” He had no notion if that was true. As if she was trying to distract him, she lifted the cup to her lush lips and sipped. His pulse thundered in his ears and through every single inch of his body.
Damn. His trousers were tight, and what did he do? He had to go and remember how she’d felt like paradise in his arms, soft and too good to be true. How womanly she was, real woman and not simpering girl, and she made him feel…
Well, in a way he was never going to feel again. Would never feel again. What’s wrong with you, Gray? Use some discipline.
“I do appreciate this.” Mariah was all aglow, from the shimmers in her hair to her pearled complexion to the dazzle of her smile as she took a step backward into her room. “We’ve been getting together like this since we graduated public school. It won’t interfere with my duties here and my responsibilities to you.”
“I trust you, Mariah. I don’t doubt you for a moment.”
She glowed even more brightly, as if he’d given her the highest praise. “You don’t know what this means to me. How you treat me. I couldn’t have a better husband. Thank you.”
He knew her life had been hard, but he hadn’t realized how much as he watched her walk into her room and close her door. Close the door that used to lock Lida away from him every night. And now his new wife, carefully kept far out of his reach, away from his heart.
You’re making a mistake getting close to her. She’s only going to hurt you. Nick thought of Lida, of how harmless she’d seemed at first. How frail and pretty and in need of him, a big, strong man to take care of her, to love her like no one else. She’d been grateful, too. She’d been appreciative and complimentary and laughed in the kitchen when they were alone.
Look where that got you. Closing his mind against images too painful to recall, Nick stumbled down the hall to his room, locked the door and sat awake in the darkness until exhaustion claimed him.
Chapter Nine
“Mariah, tell us all about how married life is treating you.” Rayna set the coffeepot on the end table next to her sofa in the comfortable parlor of her house. “You avoided the topic all through the meal, and I won’t let you get away with it for one minute longer.”
“That’s right,” Betsy agreed from the divan. “You look happy. Does that mean Nick is a good husband?”
“He’s a good husband.” Mariah slid two cubes of sugar into the pretty china cup she held before handing the matching sugar dish to Rayna. “He’s a good man.”
“Oh, is he now?” Rayna lifted one brow as she slid sugar cubes into her coffee. “A good man, is he?”
“Stop that, Rayna,” Betsy scolded. “That’s private between a wife and her husband. Poor Mariah might not be comfortable—”
Realizing what her friend meant, Mariah’s face burned. She was glad Georgie was at the baby-sitters and wasn’t close by to overhear. “I didn’t mean… I don’t want you to think—”
“Don’t worry about it.” Rayna waggled her brows. “I’m glad Nick has made you a happy woman.”
Mariah blushed harder. How did she tell her closest friends that her marriage wasn’t what it appeared? She thought of their separate rooms and their separate beds and it made her sad. She wanted Nick to desire her, to want her. “Nick is still grieving Lida.”
“Of course he is. What man wouldn’t mourn the passing of his wife?” Betsy spoke, compassionate as always, and a good friend. “It must be hard for him to be forced to remarry so soon, but a busy rancher with two small children, he had to be practical.”
Mariah winced. Practical. There was that word again. She didn’t want to be practical. She wanted to be wanted and to belong. She wanted a real marriage and to know real passion. She wanted to fall in love, real love, the kind that swept a woman off her feet, that filled her up and made her complete.
She’d had a glimpse of that last night in the kitchen with Nick. Please, let him fall in love with me.
“Shall we, Rayna?” Betsy asked, sparkling as bright as the crystal glasses on the small table between them. At Rayna’s nod, Betsy rose to her feet with a sweep of skirts and a crinkle of petticoats. “Mariah, you know gifts ought to come with a wedding, and since your wedding was so rushed, we didn’t have time to celebrate.”
Mariah set the delicate cup into its saucer before she spilled. Her hands were already shaking and her chest felt tight. She hadn’t given it a thought because it wasn’t a real wedding, not yet anyway—
“We thought we’d have a little party, instead of our usual hour of sewing and talking.” Rayna brought a box of colorfully wrapped gifts out from behind the divan. “Betsy’s fetching the cake. We, my friend, are going to celebrate your marriage. Who knew you were secretly in love with Nick this whole time? To think you finally married your true love.”
Is that what everyone thought? Thinking of Nick, she surely hoped it would be true. In time. Hope lifted her up as she stood to help Betsy with the cake.
Already, Nick was opening up to her, moving away from his grief, and one day he’d be ready to love her fully. To wrap his arms around her in the kitchen for a casual, good-morning kiss. To take her into his bed at night, wanting only her love.
Soon. She could feel it in her bones.
Nick leaned on his shovel and swiped the rainwater from his face. It was a cold, mean day. The precipitation was wind-driven, blowing at a high angle that kept his hat brim from doing any good. The rain hit him right in the face as he blinked, using his sleeve this time to wipe off some of the wet.
“Where did that wife of yours get off to?” Pop asked from the business end of a shovel.
“Town.” Nick figured he could say that with some surety. Mariah had said she wanted to go to town today.
He hadn’t listened, he’d been too busy noticing the soft, inviting swell of her breasts to pay attention to what she was saying. He was a man who hadn’t been with a woman in over five years, and it was only natural that his desire for a woman was building, like damned-up water in a creek. So it was to be expected he might drift toward sexual thoughts now and then.
Be honest, Gray. He’d thought about Mariah in that housecoat cinched tight at her narrow waist and hugging her lush breasts for more than half the morning. And with the way it was going, the afternoon was about to wander down the same path.
“Not keepin’ much of a tight rein on her, are ya?” Pop commented as he jabbed the shovel into the muddy earth. “I guess you don’t need
to worry. She’s a woman past the first blush, and she can be mean-spirited. Not one folk in town will argue with you about that.”
“Mariah isn’t mean. I thought we talked about this.” His jaw snapped shut into a hard clench. “Mariah works hard and she deserves respect.”
“You can’t fool me, son. I know why you married her. She ain’t gonna cheat on you, that’s why. And how could she? She’s not the kind of woman a man’s attracted to—”
“Pop.” Nick boomed the warning, but at the same time the blood kicked in his veins. Who wouldn’t be attracted to Mariah? The woman he’d seen last night in the hallway with her hair down and tangled, her blond curls tumbling everywhere, looking as if she’d just risen from a bed where she’d been thoroughly loved. She looked like temptation with her cheeks a rosy pink. With the sway of her full breasts against her robe.
His groin pulsed hard, remembering that little detail. He’d been able to see the outline of her nipples, which meant she wore no corset. Possibly no undergarments at all. The notion of Mariah naked beneath that nightgown…soft, creamy skin made for a man’s touch—
“Speak of the she-devil. Here she comes now,” Pop drawled. “Sorry, son. I’ll do my damnedest not to call her that again.”
“See that you don’t,” he growled, already turning toward the south where a black surrey rolled across the green prairie.
It’s her. He couldn’t say why he was so danged relieved to see Mariah sitting straight as a post, the way she always did, so prim and proper and self-controlled on the front seat of the surrey. Because of the distance and the clear plastic rain sheets pulled into place around the vehicle, he couldn’t see more than her shape and that of little Georgie seated beside her, but it was enough.
“I’m going to go and check on my daughter.” Nick left the spade where it was and whistled to his gelding. The animal’s head shot up and he trotted on over. Nick caught the dangling reins. “She’s got Mariah now, but I still worry about her.”
“Sure, go on in. Take all the time you need.” Pop wasn’t fooled, or it looked that way, as the old man bowed his head, trying to hide the smirk on his face.