Montana Legend (Harlequin Historical, No. 624)

by Jillian Hart

  “I aim to please, ma’am.” He circled around the horses, suddenly close.

  Too close. A strange tightening sensation rippled low in her belly. Strange, because she refused to be attracted to him.

  “You look flushed, Sarah. Guess that means it was right to bring you here.”

  “It’s just what I needed.”

  “Thought so. You have a tough life at the Owenses’.” He held up one hand. “I know you don’t complain, but it’s easy enough to see.”

  She squinted up at him, standing tall against the endless blue sky. “Have you been listening to those rumors about me?”

  “Kind of hard not to. I can’t tell you how many people have mentioned to me how glad they are I’ve taken an interest in that poor young widow.” He winked. “I guess folks need entertainment.”

  “Glad I can oblige.” Although it did rankle deep inside. “Is that how you see me? As poor and unfortunate?”

  “I see the good in you.” He stared into the distance, fidgeting a bit, and said nothing more.

  “I see the good in you, too, Gage.” It was so simple, really, his integrity, his strength, his kindness.

  What was she doing? Gage wasn’t for her, but the beauty of this meadow was. Wonder surrounded her in a pool of delicate flowers, impossibly small, easily crushed.

  The blistering summers and the brutal winters came and went, and still these flowers grew in the sweet shade of springtime.

  Amazing. She ran her fingers through the leaves and petals, softer than silk to touch, and breathed deep. “This is what hope smells like.”

  “You could be right.” He knelt, too, and the outside length of his thigh lingered against hers.

  All her senses focused there, where they touched. The meadow, the flowers, the fragrance and the sky faded into the background. Gage stared at her, his gloved hand settling at the small of her back, his other reaching toward her face.

  There was no panic or outrage or shock as the soft texture of fine leather cupped her chin, holding her captive as he eased close. So close their breaths mingled and their lips met in a soft luscious caress.

  Her eyes fluttered shut, and she surrendered. Curling her hands into the fabric of his shirt, tilting her mouth for a better fit. Dying a little bit as he caught her bottom lip between his and sucked just right. The sensation was the single best thing she’d ever felt. Ever.

  Heaven help her, she couldn’t move away. She ran both hands up the rock-hard line of his chest. The wet heat of his tongue laved the seams of her lips. Like a flower to sun, she opened up to him.

  He was hot satin against her teeth, her tongue. As heady as whiskey, he overwhelmed her. Made her more light-headed with every bold sweep against her tongue. She clutched his shoulders, hanging on for dear life, enjoying his kisses greedily. She couldn’t help it. Couldn’t let him stop. The magic of desire skidded in her pulse, beat thick in her veins and tugged low in her abdomen.

  The rough ragged moan he made low in his throat told her he felt the same. Impossibly tender, he pulled her against his chest, never lifting his mouth from hers. His fingers tugged at her sunbonnet strings until they came free.

  She hardly noticed because she couldn’t think. There was no room for thought, only the singular pleasure of his kiss. Of the way he laved her top lip, tugging it between his teeth, sucking her swollen flesh.

  Then his hands were loose in her hair, untangling her braids, and he was pulling her down into the violets. The scent, the softness, the rasp of his day’s growth against her skin, the weight of him as he half covered her were all too luxurious to name.

  Tenderly he brushed stray curls from her face. He broke the kiss, breathing as fast and shallow as she, gazing into her eyes as if he were trying to see inside her, to know her secrets and her deepest feelings.

  A slow grin curved his mouth, and he kissed her with his smile.

  “Are you young folks finished yet, ’cuz you’re keepin’ an old man waiting.”

  Sarah recognized that voice. Gage tore away from her, bounded to his feet and rescued his fallen hat from the ground.

  “Mr. Luckens. Didn’t expect to find you here.”

  “Guess not, young fella. Next time don’t leave your wagon visible from the road. A man like you ought to know that without bein’ told.” Mr. Lukens winked. “Howdy, Sarah.”

  “Hello.” Mortified, she brushed bits of leaves from her skirt.

  Land sakes, she was disheveled, and the reason for it was plain enough. Her hair tangled around her face as she pushed it out of her eyes. Where was her sunbonnet?

  Gage settled his Stetson square on his head and faced Lukens. “I was showing Mrs. Redding the violets.”

  “My eyesight ain’t so good, but that ain’t the way it appeared to me.” The old man cackled. “Got a bunch of folks on their way to your place. Figured you’d need a spot of help with that house of yours.”

  “What?” Gage stood so Lukens couldn’t see Sarah as struggled with her sunbonnet strings. Heck, there were bits of leaves in her hair.

  “—comin’ by in a few hours, those who can spare the time.” Lukens gestured toward the road where a team and wagon were passing by. “Gonna be hard to raise that second story and a roof all by yourself. That’s what neighbors are for.”

  “I don’t know what to say.” Mostly because it was damn hard to think with the sweet zing of desire thick in his blood.

  The scent of violets clung to his face and whiskers and he could still taste Sarah’s kiss on his lips. He had a hell of a time trying to think of anything else. “Folks are coming over? You mean, today?”

  “Heck, young man, you’ve got it bad. Now get that pretty gal of yours in the wagon and head for home. And wipe that dazed look off your face or folks’ll talk.” With the snap of his cane, he was off, limping away. His mule waited patiently in the narrow clearing near the road.

  Hell. Gage rubbed the back of his neck, trying to figure out how to fix this. It wasn’t Lukens he was worried about. It was Sarah. Her presence felt as brilliant as the sun. The soft pad of her footsteps in the new grass moved through him like thunder.

  He couldn’t look at her. Vowed never, ever, to think of the kiss they shared. That incredible, mind-altering kiss. The one that had made him toss away hard-learned lessons about love and women just for the pleasure of tasting her. Of tangling his fingers in her hair. Of feeling her body beneath his.

  Nope, he’d never think of her kiss again. Not ever.

  “You’d best take me home.” She hesitated at his side. Her cheeks were flushed and her lips swollen from his kiss. “You weren’t here for the Montgomery’s barn raising, but, oh, the fun we had. And all the food. I need to get started cooking.”

  Woodenly, he steeled his feelings. Forced himself to look at Sarah and see only Lucy’s best friend’s mother, to whom he’d offered a ride.

  Gage held out his hand, as any gentleman would. When Sarah placed her fingertips against his palm, it all came back—the fire and beauty he’d found in her arms.

  Chapter Eight

  Sarah knelt before the blazing fire pit, refusing to remember Gage’s sizzling kiss. And the iron-warm feel of his sculpted shoulders beneath her hands. And how he’d gazed at her with desire hazing his winter-gray eyes.

  There she was. Doing it again. A person would think she’d never been kissed before this. The wrapped potato she’d been reaching for tumbled into the hot ashes. She snatched it and dropped into the bucket, vowing to banish Gage from her thoughts.

  Except he was in her view, standing on the framed house, holding a heavy rafter flush for Carl Montgomery to bracket into place. Gage looked as bold and as captivating as he had when he’d kissed her.

  Oh, my, the man could kiss.

  She eased the heavy bucket onto the edge of the food table and nudged it into place beside a huge bowl of steaming gravy.

  What was wrong with her? She had to forget their kiss ever happened. She had to erase it from her mind and blot out th
e memory of how his commanding lips had possessed hers. His kiss had been both insistent and gentle, the sensual glide of his tongue—

  See? If she wasn’t careful, Gage’s kiss was all she would think about for the rest of her days.

  A hand lighted on Sarah’s shoulder as Inga Lukens sidled close. “If you’d rather, I can tend to the green beans. Why don’t you break apart the batch of rolls Mary just brought? You can do that at the table where you’ll be able to keep watch on him.”

  “Him?”

  “The comely stranger that bought the Buchanan place.” Inga winked, a robust woman who’d raised six boys and lived to tell about it. She tossed Sarah a knowing look as she cut the string around the turkey.

  “If I weren’t a few decades too old, I would have my eye on that man.” Mary Flannery paused to wave to everyone as she slid a sliced chocolate cake onto the far end of the food table. “I guess you’re the lucky one, Sarah.”

  “Me?”

  “Sure. You’re looking for a husband. He’s got that little girl and no wife.” Mary’s gaze strayed to where the men shouted to one another as they worked. “Looks like a perfect solution to me.”

  “What perfect solution?” Sarah lined a basket with fresh dish towels. Here was her chance to set things right and stop those outrageous rumors. “Maybe Mr. Gatlin is much too handsome for my tastes.”

  “How can a man be too handsome?”

  “Take a look for yourself.” It was easy to see Gage Gatlin straddling the thick-cut timber high above the ground like a man born to it. What woman wouldn’t want to gaze at him for hours?

  Inga frowned. “Yeah, I see what you mean. You’d have competition with a man like that.”

  “Give me a homely man any day.” Sarah broke apart the loaf of rolls, tumbling them into the awaiting basket. “I’ll leave the handsome ones for the likes of Susan Lockwood.”

  “Ach, the banker’s daughter.” Inga waved one hand as if to dismiss the young woman who sat in the shade beneath a parasol, chatting with her mother. “Shameless, here to bat her eyes at our fine Mr. Gatlin.”

  “She’ll probably win his affections.” Mary frowned at the injustice. “I’m sure she figures Mr. Gatlin’s a wealthy man and most likely to want a banker’s daughter for a wife. But she doesn’t know what I know.”

  Mary was wrong. Sarah reached for another loaf, intent on her work. Gage said he wouldn’t marry anyone. Yet he’d kissed her.

  “To think someone practically famous would live here in our midst.” Mary gestured toward the roof of the house where Gage worked.

  “It’s an honor, it is.” Inga spoke up as she set about carving the turkey.

  “Who’s practically famous?” Sarah followed the women’s gazes to the lone man on the timbers above, powerful legs wrapped around the beam as he guided another rafter into place.

  “Haven’t you heard?” Mary appeared shocked. “It’s been all over town, as soon as word got around concerning what Milt did, that is. The sheriff recognized him. Our distinguished Mr. Gatlin is a former Range Rider.”

  “That can’t be.” Sarah opened the butter crock. “Gage told me he was a horseman.”

  “Before that, he was a Rider.” Inga thrust a heaped platter of turkey meat at Sarah. “Take this to the table for me, please. Look at him. Yeah, you can see the steel in his spine. Absolute quality, that man.”

  A lawman? There he was, high above the ground, lashing the timber into place. Not just any lawman, but the best of the best. One of the toughest Montana Territory had to offer.

  She shouldn’t be surprised. She knew firsthand just how fine he could be.

  “Supper!” Inga shouted to the men. “You come down and eat. That is why we have been slaving all afternoon.”

  “And we haven’t?” her father-in-law, old Mr. Lukens, complained with a grin. He patted Sarah’s hand as he headed up the food line. “Couldn’t happen to a nicer girl. He’s a fine one, eh?”

  “Almost as fine as you, Mr. Lukens.”

  “It would be hard to be better.” Gage approached, reaching for a plate from the stack at the end of the table. “You’re looking fine, too, Sarah. Care to join me?” He held out a plate for her to take.

  She stared at it and then at him. “If I did sit with you, then those rumors about us will never stop.”

  “True, but I prefer the company of the most beautiful woman here.”

  What a flatterer he was—and a liar. It was hard to hold that against him as he cupped her elbow and began pulling her close.

  “Excuse me.” Louisa Montgomery cut between them. “Sarah, you’re holding up the line. Why, hello, Mr. Gatlin.”

  Sara blushed. She was holding up the line. She might as well shout her feelings for Gage at the top of her lungs in the center of town. That would be more subtle than standing here mooning at him, when it was clear he was out of her reach. He’d been one of the best lawmen in the territory.

  Sarah took a step back. Louisa began dishing up her plate, and Gage was distracted by Mr. Montgomery dropping the serving fork. She felt out of place here. And with his kiss still tingling on her lips, she felt out of luck.

  Sarah saw her chance and darted away before she made an even greater fool of herself. Now, where had Ella gone off to? It was time for her to eat.

  “Howdy, Sarah!” Lucy hopped out of line and grabbed Sarah by the wrist. “Come eat with us.”

  “Yeah, Ma.” Ella flashed an elfin smile. Happiness radiated from her like light from the sun.

  As her little girl told her all about the tadpoles they’d found in the creek and a jackrabbit that ran so fast Scout couldn’t catch him, Sarah dished up their plates.

  “Sarah.” Suddenly Gage was at her elbow and stole her plate. “I saved a place for you and Ella at our table. Right this way.”

  He held her so she couldn’t escape. As most of their neighbors watched with interest, Gage led her to the makeshift trestle table where the sheriff and the Lukens family made room on the bench seats.

  “That crafty banker and his awful daughter tried to sit here,” Mr. Lukens leaned to whisper in her ear. “But Gage wouldn’t let ’em. Told ’em he was waiting for you.”

  “He didn’t want to sit next to Susan, that’s all.” Sarah wasn’t going to be foolish and read something into that.

  But she wanted to. Her chest felt tight with aching as Gage eased beside her onto the bench. His wide shoulders and hard thighs pressed against hers and left her dizzy and weak.

  Then Gage’s fingers curled into her hair. The raspy feel of his calloused fingertips at her nape made her sigh.

  “You had a violet stuck there,” he whispered, his breath hot on the shell of her ear, and it reminded her of his kiss.

  His wonderful kiss.

  “I’m glad you let me bully you into sitting with me.” He spoke low, so only she could hear. “I like being with you, Sarah.”

  How was she going to resist him now?

  “I am so happy about you and Gage.” Inga hefted the last food basket into the back of her husband’s wagon. “You with your girl and he with his. Why, it is as plain as day you two belong together.”

  “We do not. That ought to be obvious to anyone who looks at Gage and then at me.” Sarah handed Inga the empty butter crock. “Tell that husband of yours to drive safely.”

  She waited until the Lukens were safely down the road and rounding the bend before she went searching for Ella. It took some doing as twilight fell, lengthening the shadows, darkening the prairie. Finally she tried the stable.

  “Look, Ma.” Ella peered over the hayloft. “We found kittens!”

  “Really tiny ones. Just baby ones,” Lucy added, her excitement shimmering in the rafters above as Sarah headed for the ladder. “Pa, how old do you think they are?”

  Gage was up there? Sarah froze in midclimb. She’d done her best to avoid him since supper. Since he’d treated her with kindness and respect and humor, as any friend would, while she’d been unable to forget their
kiss.

  Why had he kissed her, anyway? Whatever the reason—impulse, loneliness, overwhelming male needs—she wasn’t ready to face him without a crowd of people around.

  “I noticed the cat was missing this morning when I came in to milk,” Gage was saying, the rough rumble of his words pulling Sarah closer. “I figure these kittens had to be born sometime last night.”

  “They’re so little,” Lucy cooed.

  “And so cute.” The adoration in Ella’s words was hard to miss.

  I’ll have to add “kitten” to the wish list. It had been a long time since she’d seen Ella’s eyes sparkle quite like that.

  A lantern’s soft glow lit the way through the hay-strewn boards. Tucked in the corner was a nest of kittens, blind and hairless, sleeping safe against their mother’s belly. The calico cat purred contentedly, watching proudly as Sarah knelt.

  “She lets us pet them. See?” Lucy traced her forefinger ever so gently over a white kitten’s flattened ears. “I like this one the best.”

  “I like the striped one.” Ella touched the sleeping kitten. “Did ya see the gray one, Ma?”

  “I see.” Sarah could feel Gage watching her. “Friends,” he’d said. They were friends—who happened to have shared a very amazing kiss.

  “Don’t she look like your kitty?” Ella leaned her head against Sarah’s shoulder. “I know you miss Cuddles a lot.”

  “You had a cat?” Lucy asked.

  “Yes, but I had to give her to my next-door neighbor when we moved in with the Owenses.”

  Lucy’s hand crept into Sarah’s. “Did it make you real sad?”

  “Absolutely. I miss her very much, but I know my old neighbor is taking good care of her. And maybe I’ll have another cat one day. You never know.”

  “Sounds like you had to give up a lot. I didn’t realize.” Gage stood, moving closer, towering over her. “I hope good times are around the corner for you.”

  He offered her his hand, palm up, and like magic her hand fit into his. They were skin to skin, and the small contact felt huge. Desire flickered, deep and low, and she couldn’t stop it. He attracted her like a moth to flame.