by Jillian Hart
She closed the door behind her. “All packed?”
He glanced over his shoulder at her. He didn’t smile as he turned. “Yep. I’m all ready to go. Dakota and I will be gone before first light.”
“I packed breakfast and lunch for you both. It’s down cellar keeping cool.”
“That was mighty fine of you, Mariah.” Nick winced, looked troubled, a man resolute and rigid at the window. He didn’t take a step toward her.
So she went to him. “Just taking care of you, like I promised.” And she wasn’t finished yet. Nope. She wanted to honor and cherish him for the rest of the night. She splayed her hands on his wonderful chest, so iron-hard and perfect.
The muscles beneath her fingertips went rigid. Nick stiffened. His jaw clamped shut. Ridges furrowed his brow. He didn’t want her? She didn’t understand as his fingers clamped over her wrists, stopping her. Seconds beat between them, stretching out as if each were an eternity. In those few precious moments she saw the depth of him, the dark broken places in his soul, the wounds he covered up like a door closing and locking. His heart shuttered, as if he’d shut a window and pulled the shade.
He broke the connection between them.
Mariah stood in front of him, separated, isolated, her heart beating alone. His grip on her wrists became impersonal and distant, like a stranger’s touch. What was happening? “You’re tired. I understand. Come to bed and I’ll give you a back rub. Your shoulders look tense.”
“No.” He released his hold on her, pivoting hard. “I’ve got to get some sleep while I can. I’ve got to be up at three. It’s a five-hour ride, and I want to be there before the auction starts.”
How should she interpret that? His words were harsh and sharp. What was troubling him? She laid her hand on his shoulder. “What can I do to help?”
“You can sleep in your own bed tonight.” Hard words.
She could hear the pain beneath. He’d needed her last night and reached for her in the dark, where it was easier to hide vulnerabilities. How hard was it for a man as strong as Nick to take down the steel walls around his heart? Lamplight filled the room, showing the shadows beneath his eyes and the pain on his face.
He was still grieving. She had to remember that. He needed her; she’d felt it in his soul last night. He’d clung to her, needing her love. She would give him no less now, in the light that worshiped him like the great man he was. She closed the curtains and turned down the wick until darkness swept through the room, hiding him from her sight. But not her senses. He smelled like sunshine and prairie wind and horses and leather. The faint scent of his evening cigar clung to his shirt as she swept her hands over the back of his shoulders, feeling his muscles turn to iron.
“I can’t do this, Mariah.” He sounded choked, torn, ashamed as he twisted away, storming through the darkness and out the door. His steps rang loud and then faded away, leaving her alone in the silence.
He didn’t want her? Did he regret their lovemaking? His rejection struck like a sledgehammer to her unprotected heart, the one she’d opened wide to love him. Tears pooled in her eyes, and she breathed slowly. Cold, stinging pain filled her chest.
Surely he wanted her. He was exhausted and managing his grief. It had to be hard for him, losing the mother of his children and the wife he loved. Harder still to recover from that catastrophic loss and love another woman, as if the heart and the love that blossomed there could be turned on and off like a water pump on demand.
She ought to know. Nick could walk away from her, reject her, and the love in her heart kept going. Like the tough prairie roses, not even the brutal Montana winters could stop them from blooming each summer.
She waited for him to return, and when he didn’t, she retreated to her own room. Lying beneath the sheets, with the warm night air fluttering the curtains, she listened for his footstep in the hall.
He never came.
At ten minutes to three, she couldn’t take it any longer. She went downstairs to kiss him goodbye.
He was already gone.
With every rocking step of the gelding down the road in the dark, Nick thought of the woman he’d left behind. He’d rejected her. She had to be hurt. Maybe even crying. It took every ounce of discipline he possessed to keep his horse facing east and his bottom planted firmly in the saddle.
It killed him a little with each passing minute. He’d treated her badly. Acted as if her touch was the one thing he didn’t want. When her love was the one thing he craved more than his life.
He rode on, with his brother at his side, as the world awakened. Birds gathered to herald the sacred coming of the new day, the chirping became a din that hurt the ears and silenced the moment the sun began to rise, a reverent light that brought color and warmth to the earth.
Like Mariah to his life.
He grimaced as the pain set deep. He had to stop thinking about her. Had to cut the woman from his soul and keep her where she belonged, as his housekeeper and cook and the woman that shared his name. Nothing more.
His children needed stability. They needed a stepmother they could count on. One who would love them and care for them. They couldn’t have her falling out of love with their father and thereby thinking she could love them less. As Lida had done.
Georgie was too young to understand, but Joey was old enough to have felt some of it. A mother more interested in daydreaming about her latest lover, and more in love with the lover’s child she carried than with the two beautiful children she had. Nick was a grown man, he could handle her rejection. It hurt, no lie about that, but he was tough. He could survive. But children were vulnerable and needed care. He would not walk down that path again with another woman, always wondering if she was holding up her obligations, hating that she did the bare minimum with the kids and the house, just doing enough. Never more.
Love wasn’t dosed out like helpings at a supper table. One scoop of compassion, a half scoop of concern, a spoonful of sympathy. His kids deserved more than that. A mother who stood by them. One who was sensible and practical…
“Missing your wife?” Dakota broke the hour-long silence.
“Not overly much.”
“Liar. If I were you, I’d never have left her bed. She’s a fine wife. Takes care of those she loves. Unlike some people.”
Lida. That was true enough. Mariah was steadfast and loyal and committed, just as he knew she’d be.
She was also angelic and sensual and wanted a part of him that he could not afford to give.
Every mile that passed took him farther away from her. That was torment.
And a blessing.
Chapter Thirteen
“Mariah!” Ellie McKey called from the busy boardwalk. “We missed you at the last book club meeting. I heard you married and quite well, too!”
Mariah held the bakery boxes stacked in her arms upright as she closed the bakery’s heavy glass door. “Hello, Ellie. How are you?”
“The real question is, how are you?” The woman swept up in her tailored dress and matching bonnet, with a parasol raised to protect her complexion from the hot sun. “A practical marriage like yours must be a hardship.”
Digging for gossip, are you? Mariah’s pride went up along with her chin. “Nick and I are quite happy, thank you. That’s a lovely dress you’re wearing. I’m running late and can’t stop to visit.”
“Fine. I hope to see you at the next Ladies’ Aid meeting. Hope you’re not too busy to come.”
Ellie seemed pleasant enough, but she and Ellie had never been friends. It seemed even less likely now that she could feel the sharp prongs of Ellie’s stare boring into her back. Ellie was one of those women who rarely spoke of her husband with whispered joy. For the first time in her life, Mariah understood why. There was a difference between a happy marriage and an unhappy one.
That made her think of her own marriage. What if her love wasn’t enough? What if, when Nick came home today, he turned his back again and rejected her?
She had felt
his heart that night when they were intimate and as close as a man and woman could be. His love for her was true and as wide as the horizon. Why did he turn away?
It troubled her all the way home. She realized she was running late when she spied Rayna’s buggy parked in the shaded yard. She checked her pocket watch—she was only a few minutes late. Rayna came outside as Mariah was tethering the gelding.
“Sorry I got here a bit early. Jeb said to make myself at home, so I did.”
“I’m glad. I’m the one who’s sorry. I got held up at the shoemaker’s. I had Nick’s work boots patched for him.” Mariah grabbed the baker’s boxes, turning to look over her shoulder at the squeak of Betsy’s buggy wheel. “Why, look who’s driving up late. It’s the most notorious member of our group.”
“That’s right. I’m wanted in five counties.” Teasing, looking happy, Betsy pulled her mare to a stop. “I’ve put my life of crime behind me to take over your laundry business and to embroider in my spare time.”
“Did you start a new project?” Mariah waited for Betsy to climb down from the seat.
“Pillowcases. The pattern is violets and nosegays, and I think it’s going to go perfect with my quilt.”
The three of them retreated from the hot sun into the cool, shaded kitchen. Rayna had already set the pitcher of cool tea and glasses on the table.
Mariah lowered her packages onto the edge of the table. “I got us some treats.”
“So did I.” Betsy pulled a small box of confections from her sewing basket. “And truffles to have with our tea. I thought we ought to have something extra, since this is our first get together at Mariah’s new home.”
Home. Mariah stilled, considering the word, as she tucked away her reticule and untied her bonnet. It made her think of security, like a welcome hug, like a crackling fire to settle down by. Home was the steadiness of a man’s love that did not fade.
That’s what she wanted with a desperation that scared her. In time. Nick was coming home today with his new stallion, if all went well. Perhaps time away was what he needed. Time alone to think, without the demands of the ranch and the family. Time to sort out his grief.
Maybe he missed me. She hoped so, because she missed him. Nick Gray was wonderful and strong and kind, and the tenderness he showed her was unlike anything she’d ever known. Longing filled her. She wanted to be in his arms. Love brimmed her heart, full and patient, just for him.
“Have you given any more thought to running for president of the Ladies’ Aid?” Rayna asked with a knowing wink as she poured the tea. “Or will you be too busy with your new obligations to your husband?”
“It’s true I have a lot of work between the house and the children, but I have time for the meetings.” Mariah was glad that unlike some husbands, Nick didn’t mind if she took a few hours to herself a week to visit with friends or serve on the Ladies’ Aid. “I might not stay with the book club—”
“I wasn’t talking about those obligations.” Rayna waggled her brows.
“Marital obligations,” Betsy hinted.
Mariah’s face burned. “Why, I don’t know what you mean.”
“He’s that wonderful, huh?” Rayna’s grin broadened. “I’m glad to know you and Nick are getting along just dandy.”
“Yes, that’s always a good sign of a happy marriage,” Betsy added as she circled around the table and chose a chair to slip into. “When the husband and wife are committed enough to meet one another’s needs.”
Mariah felt even hotter, but pleased. She fetched the sugar bowl from the pantry. Luckily, Betsy and Rayna turned to discussing the latest town news and saved her from further embarrassment.
As Mariah was returning to the table, she caught sight of a bay horse through the kitchen window. A horse she didn’t recognize. Nick’s new stallion? Was Nick home?
Excitement exploded through her like a lightning bolt. Before she could take a single step, Nick strode into view. His gaze fastened on hers through the open window. Time froze like eternity when their eyes locked. Was he glad to see her? Did he need her? She couldn’t tell.
He broke away, turned his back and went to help hold another lead on the unhappy stallion.
“Goodness, is that the wild horse everyone’s been talking about?” Rayna spoke with alarm. “He does look wild. I hope no one gets hurt handling him.”
“Nick’s a fine horseman,” Mariah commented, feeling rooted to the floorboards. She couldn’t pick up her feet and her pulse was booming in her ears.
Nick had turned away from her. He hadn’t smiled. He didn’t wave. He didn’t lift a brow in acknowledgment. He’d turned his back, coldly and efficiently, as if he had better things to do than say hello to his wife. To the woman who was no longer a necessary wife, but the woman he’d made real love to.
He’s busy. She tried to excuse him. He’d had a long journey, and he was probably worried about getting the new animal settled. He would probably come in shortly and show her just how much he missed her. Right?
A part of her wasn’t sure as she settled down at the table to chat with her friends.
He couldn’t avoid her forever. Nick knew she’d be coming out with a plate of food about now. If he leaned to the left, he could just see the house and the corner window, and it looked as if everyone had just sat down to supper. There was Joey talking away to Pop, and Mariah in the background, setting platters of food on the table.
Mariah. Her name could rock the earth from beneath his feet. That’s how vulnerable he was to her. That’s how much power she had. Making love to her had laid him open entirely. Every part of him.
She could use that against him—and, as a woman, probably would one day. To manipulate him. To get every little thing she wanted. Even to break him. Like Lida.
His chest ached in the place where his heart used to be. Hurt for all the times he’d tried to love Lida and she’d pushed him away. And not just physically. It wasn’t only his heart that had died, but a piece of his soul. He’d paid a high price for trying to love a woman. He’d never do it again. Ever.
The trouble was, he already loved Mariah. With all he was. With every bit of him. How was he going to keep his pride and his heart intact? She was so far inside him, it terrified him. To be so exposed. Vulnerable. Open and aching.
If he was like this now, how much worse would it be when the blush of love wore away? When love wore down to the quick, because life had a way of testing a person. He didn’t want to live like that again. Miserable, always keeping his guard up, keeping control, keeping her where she belonged—away from his heart.
Mariah was headstrong. She was a woman with her own strength and force. Would their future be a constant battle? Or would it, in time, end up as it had between him and Lida, separate beds, separate lives, separate hearts?
No, he couldn’t stand that again. He didn’t want an unhappy wife looking for love in another man’s arms.
And what about his children? What about their happiness? Their stability? What happened if Mariah stopped loving them, too?
It was too late to go back, but if he could, he would undo their night of passion. He would have turned his back on her instead, and turned her away. He would have said anything to send her scurrying back to her bed, so every one of them would stay safe.
“Nick?”
He loved the sound of her voice. The whisper softness of her step. The way the marrow in his bones shivered when she came near.
He couldn’t look at her. He watched the stallion scent her approach, head up, ears back, nostrils flaring.
“He’s a beauty.” Her admiration shone like a gem—no, she did, rare and flawless and true.
How his heart ached for her. He wanted to reach out and pull her close, seek comfort in her arms, breathe her in like the evening air and cherish her as if their love would never end.
“I brought you some supper. Your favorite.”
He could smell it. He didn’t have to look at the plate she thrust at him, heaped with de
licious food. Everything there was what he especially liked, from her buttermilk biscuits to the baked potatoes in butter and green beans with onions and bacon. “Chicken potpie. This was a lot of work.”
“I picked up dessert in town, since I was running errands. I’ll make you come into the kitchen later for that, so I can ply you with chocolate and then tempt you upstairs to your bed.”
He choked. He couldn’t look at her as he balanced the plate on the thick fence rail. How was he ever going to get that suggestion out of his head? Suddenly all he could think about was pushing the chocolate cake aside, lying her on the table and helping himself.
Good job, Gray. Now that’s all you’re going to think about for the rest of the night.
It took discipline to clutch the fork, instead of to reach for Mariah and bury his face in her silken hair. It took a mountain of fortitude to pierce the tines of the steel fork into the soft center of the buttery potato when what he wanted to taste was the passion he and Mariah could make together.
“Dakota said your trip went well.” She leaned her slim arms on the rail beside him and let the wind play with her hair.
The way he wanted to. To feel the silk between his fingers, the soft scent of lilacs and woman as he held her close. The softness like paradise against his jaw and cheek. He recalled holding her like that in his bed after they’d made love, her naked warmth against him. They’d rested together, intimate and still joined.
Nothing in his life had felt as good as holding her at that moment, not even the love they made, and why that was, he couldn’t say. Maybe it was because he’d felt complete. As if no matter what happened from that moment on, he would have the sheltering comfort of Mariah’s love and the sweetness of being in her arms. His heart no longer ached where it was broken. His soul no longer hurt where it was scarred.
“He said the stallion was a handful to bring home.” Mariah kept talking as if the silence between them was companionable, as if he hadn’t been avoiding her.