A Leaf in the Wind

by Velda Sherrod

  While he still had presence of mind, he needed to talk about the child they'd had together. If he succumbed to temptation and touched her, he'd want more, and there'd be no stopping. "Pat wove quite a tale."

  She moved uncomfortably. "About what?"

  "About Toddie. About you. Why didn't you tell me?"

  Thoroughly shaken, she stared up into his rugged features, noting the finely chiseled lips, and the unruly hair that fell on his forehead. Her mouth became dry. He had learned the truth. She wasn't Lee DuBois. She wasn't Toddie's mother.

  "So he finally told you. I wonder why he waited, why he didn't tell you before the wedding?"

  T.K. shrugged. "I can't imagine why either one of you waited."

  She inhaled deeply. "At first, I was afraid of you, afraid you'd take Toddie. You were a Burke and rich. You could pay off a judge. I had to find a job to support Toddie and me." She lifted her hand to secure a tendril, unaware of the provocative picture she made. "I knew in time I could manage. I've always had to. Manage, I mean. Later, I wanted to tell you the truth, but I couldn't bear not seeing you again. After a while, it seemed like I didn't have a choice."

  He hadn't had a choice from the time she had crawled into his bed at Patrick's birthday party. "You should have trusted me."

  "I can't blame you for being angry, but I've been sick to death of untruths, half-truths, and evasions. The longer I waited to tell you, the more difficult it became. Believe it or not, I'm usually a truthful person." She stared into his strained face. "But I couldn't take a chance on losing Toddie." And you, she thought forlornly.

  To his irritation, T.K. found himself responding to the tremor in her voice, and his words were harsher than he meant them to be. "Woman, you wouldn't have lost him. I'm a fair man."

  "In the beginning, I didn't know that. Later, I realized I had gone too far. There was never a right time to tell you."

  He wiped a soap bubble from her cheek. "The Lazy B is Toddie's birthright."

  She'd never be able to make him understand her loneliness before Toddie or her happiness since coming to the Lazy B. Desperately aware that he held her fate in his hands, she was faced with the final humiliation. "I suppose you want a divorce."

  "Have you lost your senses? Toddie needs you."

  "Who do you need?"

  You, he thought, but didn't say it aloud. A tiny, questioning frown creased her forehead. Teardrops glistened on her cheeks. He leaned close until his face was inches from hers, agitation etching grooves around his mouth. "Do you regret the marriage?"

  "No." Her gaze didn't waver. There was something wistful in her face that he'd never seen before. "I didn't lie when I took the vows, T.K. Do you wish you hadn't married me?"

  Before she came, life had been simple, uncomplicated, lonely year after year, it had been so. He hadn't recognized the depth of his loneliness. He shook his head. "Not one damned bit, honey. Guess we can teach Toddie to call me Pa and start acting like a family. But promise you'll not leave the Lazy B without me beside you."

  "No matter the occasion?"

  T.K. smiled. "Can't think of a single exception." Her breasts were barely below the waterline, full, tempting, perfect. Suddenly he felt wonderful. He dragged a chair over to the tub and sat down, crossed his legs comfortably, and grinned. "Much longer in that tub and you're going to look like a prune."

  In the lamplight, desire burned in his eyes, turning her bones to jelly. She realized he didn't intend to budge from his ringside seat. "Please stop ogling and step into the hall," she said, her mouth a straight line.

  "I'm comfortable, thanks."

  "Would you mind handing my towel and robe?"

  "I'd mind."

  "Then I'll get them myself." She rose from the tub and placed a leg over the rim, dripping water and soap bubbles.

  "No." His gaze encompassed her naked beauty, her porcelain body so perfect his breath caught in his throat. A woman, his woman, passionate, knowledgeable, tormentingly desirable.

  He had to hand it to her. She didn't bluff. Nor did she meet his eyes after her sudden boldness. He felt himself swell. "My God. You take a man's breath away. When I'm away from you, I remember the silky feel and scent of you. Then when I see you, I'm staggered all over again." He stood, his big body dwarfing hers. "Tonight I'm going to know my wife. Do you understand what I'm saying?"

  "Yes."

  Her blush was fascinating. He thought how deceptively innocent she could look without a stitch of clothes on. "Good."

  When she reached for her towel, he took it from her and began a gentle rubbing, more caressing than drying, over her back and shoulders. His eyes swept lower to linger on her breasts. "I thought that, if I didn't touch you soon, I'd go berserk like a loco steer." He dried her hips and thighs and threw the towel aside, then cupped her face. "Sweet and soft and desirable."

  He kissed her with deep, hungry kisses that sent shivers down her spine and excitement raging through her.

  "There's been a lot of lonely nights. But no more. From now on, you share my bed." She trembled and he held her molded against him, moving her gently, inevitably closer to his virile need.

  "Maybe I should put on my robe." She swallowed with difficulty. "Before I get cold."

  "I don't plan on letting that happen." He started unbuttoning his shirt.

  Confused, she gazed up at him. "Are you going to bathe?"

  "Yes." He sat down and drew off his boots. "Won't take me long."

  "Right now?"

  "I'm going to make love to you, honey, after I'm rid of the trail dust."

  He spoke so matter-of-factly, she managed a weak smile. "I see."

  He stood and slid a hand to the middle of her back, then cupped a breast with the other. He brushed a callused thumb over the nipple. At her startled gasp, he whispered in amusement, "Yes, I think you do. I'll hurry." He moved from nibbling her lower lip to tracing the corners of her mouth with his tongue, kissing her deeply, lingeringly. "Seems like I've forgotten how to hurry."

  She tried to get her breath. "I noticed."

  He chuckled, his gaze wandering restlessly over her face. "In urgent times like this, reckon I ought to ask for help?"

  "I reckon," she muttered and finished opening his shirt.

  Within minutes, he stood without a stitch and completely without modesty. Bronze shoulders, tapered waist, long muscular legs, and startling, unfamiliar parts. In all of her life, Elise had never seen a man without his clothes. Then she remembered he was seeing her equally bare.

  Laughing, he met her bewildered gaze and stepped into the tub. "I've never used lavender soap. Never had to, but tonight, I'll make do."

  He lathered quickly, washing his hair last. Moments later, he stepped out of the tub, rubbing his body with Elise's towel. "Shall we try the bed?"

  After a furtive glance at the bed, Elise kept her gaze carefully averted, staring at his chest and not an inch lower. He was so close she wondered if he could hear the thunder of her heart. "Yes, the bed."

  He looked at her with hunger, but with humor, too. "Can't believe you're having trouble seeing me naked, honey. I sure don't have that problem looking at you."

  Blast him. He was enjoying himself. She lowered thick lashes to hide her embarrassment and to give herself much-needed time. Then slowly, deliberately, she let her gaze flicker south, past his belly to his hard manhood, to his thigh and on to his feet. She casually retraced the route to face his roguish grin. "I never realized it before. Your nose is crooked."

  He whooped in laughter. Sobering, he touched her, his eyes a green blazing fire. "Don't want to stampede you, love, but one of us has got to start. Doesn't much matter which one, I guess."

  With little effort, he carried her to the bed, then lay down beside her. He spread her hair over the pillow. "You're beautiful."

  His eyes held an invitation for her to join him in a ritual as old as time. Tenderly persuasive, he caressed her shoulders, her arms, kissed the hollow of her throat, the tip of her nose.
<
br />   He stroked downward, his hand warm, searching. "Lovely wife. I want to give you love, understanding, strength, possessions. Whatever you want." And he added whimsically, "Protection when I have the chance."

  Life had its ironies. T.K. was the only person who had ever offered her possessions or understanding. And no one, not even her papa, had ever offered strength. "I'm not helpless."

  "Foolhardy? Probably. Reckless? Possibly. But helpless?" He shook his head in amusement. "Like a half-grown mountain cat. But a man needs to think he can take care of his wife."

  "I just do what I think needs to be done."

  "Sure do hope we agree on what needs to be done." He kissed her breast. "Yes, sir, I surely do." He explored farther and farther down.

  What had he said? Something needed doing? Her mind wandered on to what he was doing. "I'm much too busy to take on new tasks. I'm a ranch woman. I've things to do."

  "You certainly have and that includes spending time in the rancher's arms, in his bed." He kissed her. "Lots of time."

  She felt his hardness in the rhythm of his motion, in the heat of his restlessness. His lips were pressed against her naked skin, tasting, kissing, driving her wild. His tongue laved her breast. At the same time, he caressed the other with his hand.

  Everything was happening too fast. "Wait," she moaned. "Please not yet."

  He looked at her blankly and groaned. "God, honey, we've waited too long already."

  Desperate to take her, but fiercely determined to make her want him as much as he wanted her, T.K. struggled for control. That other night in Boggy Creek, he'd been so sotted he not only couldn't remember her coming to his bed, but he also couldn't recall making love to her.

  He caressed her, stroking gently, tracing patterns on her shoulders and back, kneading and fondling. He cupped her cheek to bring her lips closer to his, then lazily kissed her. "I want you about as much as a man can want his woman and stay sane. But without you, it's no good, honey. Know what I'm saying?"

  She answered by touching her tongue to his. She heard him groan. Dizzy with the wonderful sensations rippling through her, Elise gave up to a sweet fire that threatened to consume her. Never in her wildest dreams had she imagined the saturating, molten heat that could flow between a man and woman. When his mouth found her breast, she moaned softly.

  He responded with a deep growl. Easing his face upward, he muttered in her ear, "I'm going to relish every inch of that lovely body, and when you're ready, we're going to make love."

  Elise slid her hands down the dark mat of his chest to stroke his hard, sleek thighs. Encouraged by his quick intake of breath, she added to the fire by caressing his lean hips.

  His mouth settled over hers in a hard kiss. "Geez," he muttered and kissed her again.

  "What?"

  But he had dipped his head to explore the valley between her breasts, tasting, teasing, his ragged breath warm against her skin. He swept on to kiss her abdomen and to touch his tongue to her belly button.

  Taking her with him, he rolled to his side and urgently claimed her again in a long drugging kiss. His tongue plunged into her mouth, slowing to savor the moist interior, before plunging in and out in wild hunger. "Yes," he murmured when she undulated against him.

  Dimly, she wondered what would come next. His face was dark with passion, his eyes blazing. Tenderness dwelt there, too, and something more, something she couldn't define but was desperate to know.

  More than he could ever imagine, she wanted to make him feel the exquisite yearnings she felt. She touched him with her fingertips, unsure, hoping, wondering.

  T.K. flinched in passionate reaction. A sound rumbled deep in his throat. "Another time, love." He lifted her hand for his kiss.

  Brushing his lips over the hollow of her shoulder, he ached from the force of his own desire and teetered on the edge, ready to explode into mindless delirium, but engraved on his brain was the need to go slowly. He could sense the tension growing in her slender body and was determined to give her that supreme, consummate pleasure.

  "You smell like lavender leaves. Guess I do, too."

  Elise gave up trying to keep her mind on what he was saying. He had eased his hand down, finding her damp, most vulnerable place. When she surged against him, he became the aggressive male, covering her with his hard muscled body.

  Instinctively, she closed her legs, wanting but fearing what she didn't know. "Wait."

  He held himself motionless, his eyes betraying his disappointment. ''Why are you closing against me? I thought you wanted me." His whispered, tortured words encouraged her to relax, and with a groan, he sank into her welcoming acquiesence.

  A cry, a tear, panic. "No. No. Stop. Please stop."

  T.K. swallowed an oath. Unquestionably, unmistakably, his wife was a virgin. Too aroused to move away, he felt perspiration pop out on his forehead.

  "Easy, honey," he mumbled, bewildered but filled with a great tenderness. "It only hurts at first." Something tightened deep within him that had nothing to do with his undeniable need for release. His gaze wandered questioningly over her face. Who was the woman with the face of an angel? He realized suddenly that nothing had changed, yet everything had changed.

  Without knowing her name, he loved her. He held her until her shivering gradually ceased, then gently increased his invasion until she took fire beneath him.

  T.K. had been correct. The pain gave way to mild discomfort, then to indescribable delight. Determined to please him, she responded, moving her hips to match his thrusts and inadvertently eliciting words of encouragement from him. Whatever he was trying to give her, she desperately wanted and reached for, unprepared for the tempest that followed.

  Violent, volatile, mutable, the ungovernable storm enveloped her so intensely she thought she would surely die of it. She cried out to him, calling his name again and again.

  He held them both taut, shortening the regression of his movements, then forging ahead in quick, sharp thrusts. When her shudders stopped, he gripped her more tightly and allowed himself his pleasure, rocketing higher and higher until his joy merged with hers.

  Wet with sweat, he managed to get his breathing under control. The fires that had burned so fiercely had been banked. Looking down into her lovely flushed face, he knew the fever would start again.

  T.K. inhaled deeply. Even now, his senses were alive to any contact he made with her body, and he levered himself slightly away from her. He heard her sigh, sensual, contented. "A wedding night to remember," he said, his voice low. "I hope I didn't hurt you. I tried to be gentle."

  Once again, she had become a mystery. He couldn't imagine what nefarious motive had prompted her deception, and his mind scrambled for answers. Where was Toddie's natural mother? How did all the pieces fit? Who was that woman? He stared at her rosy mouth, swollen from his kisses, at her hair tangled in wild disorder. A part of him couldn't help but exult that he had been first to love her.

  "If I had known beforehand, I could have made it easier for you."

  She blushed at the stark intimacy of his words. "It hurt at first, but not for long."

  He tipped her face up and studied it feature by feature. He had made love to her, had known the heat of her response. His wife but he didn't know her name. "Who are you?" he questioned, softly. "Not Lee DuBois."

  Clutching the sheet to her breasts, Elise muffled a cry. "But you said you knew. That Patrick told you."

  "What do you think he told me?"

  Fear, hurt, yearning darkened her eyes. With blinding clarity, Elise knew that it was over, that she had lost the two people she loved more than life. She and T.K. had not reached an understanding. He had been talking of one thing, she of something else. The truth had caught up with her. Her wedding night, a night to remember, the night she lost everything.

  "In God's eyes and the eyes of the world, I'm Toddie's mother."

  There was a quiet desperation about her defiant stand that was not lost on him. T.K. drew a ragged breath. "I don't want to d
istress you. But, damn, why didn't you tell the truth early on? It would have saved us all a hell of a lot of trouble."

  She stirred uneasily. "Patrick didn't want his son, and Toddie's real mother was dead. When Patrick changed his mind and sent you for Toddie, I came along." An anguished sob welled up inside her. "I love Toddie so much. He needs me. Later, I fell in . . . later I wanted to stay."

  Stunned, he let his gaze roam over her face, searching hers intently. For a moment, he thought she had intended to say she loved him. "Go on."

  "I still don't know why Patrick didn't tell you the truth about me, that I was not Toddie's mother." She glanced up wondering what went on behind those shuttered eyes. "Always, I kept delaying and hoping that everything would work out."

  He could imagine her torment, even sympathize with it. He wished his own explanation could be as noble. In Patrick's eyes, the scenario was a real thigh slapper. T.K. laughed silently, mirthlessly, envisioning his hands around Patrick's throat. "Does anything ever?"

  Elise stared at his ravaged face and tried to suppress her tears. "Does anything ever what?"

  "Work out. Seems like the law of averages would make it fifty percent of the time." His voice trailed off. A raw ache started in his chest. He had foolishly and mistakenly believed that they had shared a bed and conceived a child together. In the beginning, such thoughts had not rested easily on his conscience. Later, he had wanted desperately for it to be true.

  "Patrick set me straight on it. I'm Toddie's pa."

  Her heart slammed painfully in her breast. "Patrick's lying," she whispered. "Toddie's mother told me he was the father."

  T.K. nodded grimly. "In this instance, you can take Patrick's word and mine."

  "If you're the father, why didn't you at least check on her?"

  "I didn't know, dammit of the mother's pregnancy or the child's existence. Later, Patrick claimed the boy was his."

  Gravely, Elise continued to search his face. A picture of her stepsister in T.K.'s arms flashed through her mind, and a feral gleam darkened her eyes. "I don't need to know the particulars."