Endless Heart: Heart, Book 3

by Emma Lang

  Lettie wept openly but silently. She kept petting his head after it was clear the horse had passed. The mare positioned herself behind Lettie, her nose pressed into Lettie’s shoulder. The two females seemed to be helping each other through the loss.

  Shane didn’t hurry her, knowing Lettie grieved for the poor horse, for a life cut short because of an unforeseen accident. He knelt on the ground, covered in blood and dirt, his wounds throbbing. It was something he’d done before, in another lifetime, but now he had Lettie there. She kept the demons away with her soft strength.

  He felt the earth shift beneath him as he stared at her. Lettie was more than the woman who had dragged him from the maw of death and whiskey. Much more. When Violet had died, he never expected to feel anything again, much less love. His heart had been dead long before his wife had joined it.

  Lettie had resurrected it, and now it beat within his chest once more.

  The smell of blood made her sick, but she needed to sit there a little longer. The horse’s life had ebbed out from him as she held his head, telling him it was okay to let go, that the pain would cease. Grief welled up within her for the horse, the unfairness of losing his life. He had been a victim, and she felt better knowing she had helped him pass.

  The mare’s hot breath never left her back. She seemed to need to feel Lettie’s life force as her partner lay dying in the empty meadow. It comforted Lettie likely as much as it comforted the horse.

  She looked up at Shane. He had been magnificent, quick and smart, getting them all through the aftermath of the wagon accident. Blood coated his bare chest and arms, his face was scraped, his hair was sticking out every which way, full of dirt and pebbles. His trousers were ripped and stained as well. He breathed heavy and gripped the knife hard enough to make his knuckles white.

  “You fought in the war.”

  It wasn’t a question. She knew by his age and by the way he acted that he’d been in battle before, knew what to do and how to assess the situation.

  “Thank you for this.” She scrubbed the tears from her cheeks. Her legs throbbed mercilessly along with her head. “I think I’d like to sit in the shade now.”

  He put the knife on the ground and crawled over to her. After nudging the mare out of the way, he picked her up and walked to the trees nearby. He set her down against the trunk of a large cottonwood tree on a bed of thick green grass.

  “Are you comfortable?” His scowl should have scared her, since he looked as though he’d been in a battle. It didn’t. She had never been more comfortable with a man before, and that was a miracle in and of itself.

  “As much as I can be.” She ran her tongue along her teeth and made a face. “Bring the canteen, will you? I’ve got half that meadow in my mouth.”

  He cupped her cheek and looked at her with so much concern, her heart did a funny flip. “I’ll bring it. You’re a helluva fighter, Lettie Brown.”

  He left her and walked toward the wreckage, his posture straight and his movements sure. If she didn’t know any better, she might have believed he wasn’t hurt, but he was. He’d been driving the team and had no doubt been thrown quite a distance when it wrecked.

  She closed her eyes for a moment to rest. The soft breeze caressed her face, and the sound of the leaves shifting above her soothed her aches. Beside her the mare stood guard, quietly munching on the succulent grass. A peace stole over Lettie, and she let herself drift away from the pain and the horror of what the horse went through.

  When she opened her eyes again, she was disoriented. She must have fallen asleep, and the late morning had given way to early afternoon.

  Shane sat nearby, his legs crossed beneath him, bent over something. The sunlight cast a glow over his now-clean chest, making it appear to shine. She hadn’t really looked at his chest before, but it was nicely formed. A sprinkling of molasses-colored hair whirled around his flat, copper nipples. He had numerous scars, which she had catalogued, but seeing him shirtless sent a quiver through her that had everything to do with the man in front of her.

  She was attracted to him. Again.

  Lettie had fought it, truly she had, but the man was under her skin. She hadn’t thought any male would ever appeal to her, but Shane did and in an elemental way. The connection between them grew stronger with each minute they were together. The wagon accident made that bond deeper. They had survived and now they were stranded halfway between home and their destination with nothing but each other, a mare with no saddle and one knife.

  If it hadn’t been happening to her, she might have laughed at the absurdity of the situation. She likely couldn’t walk, and there was no way she could ride the horse or Shane’s shoulders. A strangled laugh popped out of her mouth, and Shane’s head snapped up. His gaze locked with hers, and a skitter of awareness snapped between them.

  “You’re awake.” He got to his feet with a grimace and walked over to her, his gait stiff.

  “Have you doctored your own injuries?”

  He knelt beside her. “I cleaned up as best I could, but I’m gonna have to work through the rest of it. Bumps and bruises mostly.”

  There were fresh scratches across his cheek, and his eye, his poor eye that had taken two weeks to lose the swelling, was black and blue again. He must have landed on his face when he was thrown.

  “Can I have that drink now?”

  He handed her the canteen, which she hadn’t seen hanging from his shoulder. The man seemed to be prepared for anything. She took one drink, swished it around and spit out the grime. A second rinse and she’d rid herself of the grit. Then she took a swallow of the sweet, cool water.

  He watched her mouth and throat. She didn’t know whether to be flattered or to tell him to stop staring. After using her sleeve to wipe away the water, which wasn’t particularly ladylike, she handed the canteen back to him.

  “Is there fresh water nearby? That tastes too good to be from Forestville.” She had to distract both of them from the humming attraction in the air. It was no good for either of them.

  He gestured to his right. “There’s a small creek beyond the trees. Clean water, about two feet deep, enough to get most of the dirt and, um, other things off me.” He was kind enough not to mention the horse’s blood. Shane was a better man than she imagined him to be.

  “I want to wash up too. I know I’ve got enough dirt in my hair to build an anthill.” She scratched at her scalp. “If I can sit on the bottom of the creek, I should be okay.”

  His pupils dilated and his nostrils flared. “Are you sure that’s a good idea? You’d need to, ah, take your clothes off.”

  Now it was her turn to react. Her blood quickened at the idea of disrobing in front of him. It brought back the memories of her very vivid, very erotic dreams. Ones she could not forget if she tried. There had been so much pleasure and closeness between them in those imaginings. She held them dear, never intending to tell a soul of them, particularly the man who featured in them.

  “I’m sure I don’t have anything you haven’t seen before. Besides, after I wash up, maybe we can rustle up some of the food from the wagon.” Eating would be another welcome distraction.

  “Ah, yes, but I haven’t seen yours. That is, we haven’t… Hell, I feel like a fifteen-year-old here.” He rubbed his hands down his face, the whiskers rasping against his palm. “If that’s what you want, I’ll help you.”

  Oh, she wanted more than that, much to her consternation. She wanted to see him disrobe and join her in the stream, help her wash. Was she brave enough to ask him? Was it really what she wanted?

  Yes and yes.

  “That’s what I want.” She held up her arms, her heart thumping madly as he lifted her into his arms again.

  This time she felt the heat of his skin, the tautness of his shoulder beneath her fingers. It reminded her of that day, weeks ago, when she helped him through his nightmare. Now he was healthier, his skin smoother. She resisted the urge to rub her hand down his back to feel how amazing she imagined it was. />
  What was wrong with her? How did she get to be such a wanton? After the life she’d led, there was no probability she’d want to be with a man. Yet she did. So much so that her body was ready before her mind caught up. Shane wasn’t threatening. He would never hurt her. Hell, he had saved her life, doctored her wounds and cared for her as she slept. He was a good man; she knew that in her bones.

  Lettie trusted her instincts, and they were screaming at her to take a chance with Shane. She had decided she couldn’t be with him for good, but perhaps she could be with him for now. Use this time to erase the marks left behind by the monster who used her for his sadistic needs. It wasn’t as though Shane wouldn’t enjoy himself, but she would be using him for her own purposes.

  She pushed aside the guilt and focused on the man. He was alive, holding her, giving her every bit of his attention. She would be a fool not to take what was right in front of her. There would likely never be another chance or another man like Shane.

  They arrived at the stream in minutes, and she was pleased to see it was a private spot with plenty of shade. The fading light lent a pinkish glow to the water. He set her on the bank and looked at her clothes. It was secretly entertaining to see him struggle with what to do. She had to put him out of his misery.

  “Start with my shoes while I work on my buttons.”

  Her legs still throbbed, but she pushed away the pain. Right now she wanted to concentrate on feeling good, feeling alive, not the remnants of a wreck that shouldn’t have happened. Her fingers were stiff, but she got all the buttons undone down the front of her dress. Concentration painted his face as he worked at the knots in her laces.

  “I didn’t do that.” She shrugged out of her sleeves. “My laces weren’t all tangled like that when we left.”

  “It’s my fault. I was trying to pull you clear from the wagon and—” He glanced up, and his gaze immediately fell to her breasts and the thin cotton chemise covering them.

  Lettie didn’t wear a corset. They were uncomfortable and expensive. She only wore a chemise and drawers beneath her dress. She didn’t need anything else. To her surprise, her nipples had peaked and were currently poking at the material that rubbed against them.

  “Ah, I had to yank a bit on the laces to get your feet out of the way.” He swallowed hard enough that she heard it.

  “Oh, then I reckon I owe you thanks. I didn’t know, well, I guess you must’ve pulled me out from under the wagon.” They could discuss his heroics later. Now she needed his body and his hands. “Let’s get to finishing this up so I can get in that cool water. I expect it will help with the swelling and pain in my legs.”

  He jumped as though she’d poked him with a stick. “Sorry.” He attacked the laces, his fingers pinching and pulling until he got them undone. With a sigh of relief, he tugged off one boot then the other.

  “Is it okay if I, uh, take off your stockings and such?”

  “A’course it is. I asked you to help, didn’t I?” Lettie didn’t want either one of them to feel awkward. She wanted to feel good. Now.

  She lifted her hips and slid the dress past her knees. He rolled the stockings down then removed her dress. Like a lady’s maid, he laid the clothing both on a nearby rock, though they were dirty and covered with rips and tears. If she wasn’t so desperate to kiss him, she might have laughed at the absurdity of it.

  “I ain’t taking off anything else, so let’s get in the water.” She held up her arms again.

  He shucked his trousers and boots, then shuffled back toward her sideways. She was about to ask him what the heck he was doing when she spotted the very hard cock in his borrowed drawers.

  Oh my.

  Her boots did that? Or rather her feet? Perhaps her breasts? Whatever body part it was, she had caused Shane Murphy to have an erection again. It pleased her to know she could have that kind of effect on him. She was, after all, not beautiful or particularly smart. Ordinary was a better description. Today, right this minute, she felt extraordinary.

  He lifted her gently and made his way down into the creek. As his feet hit the water, he hissed in a breath.

  “It’s a little cold. Likely a mountain runoff or the like.” He looked into her eyes, his gaze as hopeful as hers—probably was. “Ready?”

  “Yes, I’m ready.”

  He lowered himself with her in his arms until he sat on the bottom of the stream.

  The cold water hit her feet then her ass. She almost screamed at the frigid temperature. A little cold? It was more like snow in January. However the cool water lapped against her legs, then encompassed them. The sore and bruised flesh sighed in relief. It felt good, really good.

  She didn’t realize she’d moaned aloud until she heard it echo. She opened her eyes and peeked at him. He stared at her, not straying any lower than her chin. The man had iron control that was for sure because her nipples were so hard they ached. And they were nearly in his face.

  “This feels real good, Shane.” Her voice was breathy, so unlike the Lettie of the everyday variety.

  “Mmm, I’m glad to hear it. The, uh, cold should be good for swelling.”

  The absurdity of his statement, coupled by the still-hard dick pressed against her hip, made her laugh.

  His eyes widened. “What’s so funny?”

  “You. Me. Everything.” She moved toward him until their lips were a hairsbreadth away from each other. The heated puff of his breath caressed her face, and she smiled. “Kiss me, Shane.”

  “I don’t think that’s a—”

  “Now.”

  He focused on her mouth then licked his lips before he leaned in. She closed her eyes and waited, anticipation making her heart thump. When he finally kissed her, he was warm, so very warm and soft. She let her mouth open beneath his. At first his movements were awkward and clumsy, as though he’d forgotten how to kiss.

  As their kiss deepened, he seemed to relax and remember how enjoyable it was. His tongue traced the seam of her lips, lapping one way and back again. She loved it. When his mouth settled over hers, their tongues came together as one, dancing and rasping against each other. The movements were as old as the act they mimicked.

  One long, slow kiss after another, so many she lost count and lost track. She pulled back and opened her eyes, surprised to find the midday sunlight poking through the leaves in the small forest. A flock of sparrows flew past, the gentle swish of their wings echoing softly around them.

  Her lips felt swollen with kisses, and they throbbed in tune with her pulse. As they stared at each other, he brushed her hair from her forehead. A simple gesture, but one that felt achingly familiar as though he’d done it a thousand times.

  “Was that enough kissing?”

  She shook her head. “No, now I want more than that. I want you to join with me.”

  His expression didn’t change, but she saw a muscle jump in his jaw. “I can’t.”

  “Oh yes you can. Don’t think I don’t feel that cock between us. I could count your heartbeats with it.”

  He frowned at her. “Kissing makes a man hard, Lettie. It don’t mean nothing.”

  “Yes it does. It means you want to join with me.” She pushed away from him, bobbing in the water enough to spread her legs. The split drawers floated in the stream like waving banners as she straddled his hips. Their combined body heat penetrated through the cold water.

  “I can’t do that to you, Lettie. You should only lie with your hus—”

  She slapped her hand across his mouth. “Don’t you dare finish that sentence. I ain’t a young girl who never had a man between her legs. One day I might tell you about it. Know that I don’t do this, I ain’t done this, with no one in a very long time.” Lettie swallowed the lump of emotion in her throat. “I want to join with you.”

  She had trouble putting what she felt into words, to tell him that he was special to her, that this was not an ordinary frolic in the woods. Speaking had never been something she did very well. She was the kind of person who did
what she had to and showed what she meant.

  So she did.

  Lettie reached between them and wrapped her hand around his length. He was big, bigger than she expected, but oh so hard and hot to the touch. Shane groaned and feebly tried to pull from her grasp, but she knew if he really wanted to, he could break her hold.

  She led him to the slit in her drawers, to the aching part of her that needed him inside. He held her hips and guided her forward. Together they moved until he was at her entrance.

  “Lettie, I—”

  “Shush now. Ain’t the time to talk.” With a wiggle of her hips, he was within her.

  He pushed in slowly, giving her time to get used to him, which was appreciated. By the time he was fully sheathed within her, she had almost bit a hole in her lip. It was the most amazing thing she’d ever experienced. A connection with someone physically and emotionally. Her heart felt a thousand times lighter, near to bursting from her chest.

  Then he started to move and it got better. His thrusts were slow and measured, enough to keep her wanting more. Her impatience grew until she couldn’t take the pace any longer. She started pushing back at him as he pushed into her. Using his shoulders for leverage, she increased her speed until the water splashed between them with each plunge.

  He leaned down and nudged aside her wet chemise, exposing one pink-tipped breast. She was about to ask him what he was doing when he captured it with his mouth. Pleasure zinged through her straight to her pussy. He sucked at her nipple, rolling it around on his tongue, then nibbled at it.

  “Keep doing that. It feels mighty good.”

  Shane made a choking sound, but he didn’t let that tit go. She was glad because it heightened her desire, made her push against him harder. There was something happening inside her, a tension that grew sharper and sharper. She pulled at his arms, not knowing what to do, not understanding.