The Barefoot Bride

by Paisley, Rebecca

  Saxon's eyebrow raised. "What's the matter? Are you ashamed of your body?"

  "Nope."

  "Then get in here with me."

  "Done washed already."

  "Who said you had to bathe again?" Saxon, on his knees, started to get to his feet. As he did, he noticed Chickadee looked away. "Are you afraid I'll rape you?"

  "Seems we done had this conversation afore."

  Saxon settled back into, the water. "Yes we have. But I was wounded then, remember? My injuries are healed now."

  Chickadee quivered. He was doing it to her again. Making her feel that strange way. Like... like she was pining away for something only he had the power to give her.

  "Come in with me." He stood, his body completely revealed to her. She jumped from her rock and ran back to the cabin, Saxon's laughter ringing in her ears. "What happened to all your bravado?" he called after her.

  As he finished bathing, he thought of his marriage plans again. How was he going to convince Chickadee to become his bride? From what she said about her mother, he realized she believed in that ridiculous fantasy called love. But Saxon had no such beliefs, nor would he pretend he did: Chickadee would see right through him. But dammit, there had to be a way! A way to make her want to be with him.

  The feel of her lips on his came to mind. She'd enjoyed that kiss. And her body had told him she wanted more.

  He'd seduce her. Saxon knew he was famed for his abilities to entice even the most proper of Boston women into his bed. And women, blue-blooded or mountain-blooded, were all the same.

  The way he saw it.

  *

  "You look beautiful, Keely."

  Chickadee whirled in the middle of the cabin, her mother's skirts wrapping around her legs. "It swallers me."

  The dress was too big, but the indigo blue of the homespun cloth was lovely on her, and instead of hiding her shapely form, the gown emphasized her slenderness. Saxon knew every maiden in Boston would be put to shame beside her.

  "It's large, but you're still pretty in it."

  She stopped spinning. "Y'mean it?"

  Saxon sat by the fire. He withdrew a cheroot from the pocket of his shirt and lit it, a blue haze of smoke surrounding him. "Why don't you believe my compliments? Do you think you're ugly?"

  "I ain't had many other womenfolks around me to compare mysef with. But one time I seed this girl with hair so yaller it looked like it was made o' sun. You like girls with yaller hair?" She sat at his feet.

  He picked up a lock of her hair. "As a matter of fact, blonds were the only women who attracted me. But I find I'm beginning to prefer redheads."

  His warm fingers played in her hair and heated her body. "I like black hair," she said. She snapped for Khan and, as if it were the most important thing in the world to do, she examined her pet's fur, keeping her head low lest Saxon see her flush.

  "Ah, so you like my hair. What else do you like?"

  She raised her gaze. "I like the smooth way you talk."

  She liked the way he talked? He'd thought she was going to tell him how handsome he was! He chuckled at his own conceit. "Let's go to bed." He slid out of his boots and shirt and reached for the fastening of his breeches.

  The widening of her eyes stilled his actions. Go slowly, Sax, he told himself. Gain her confidence first. Frighten her and you'll never succeed.

  He left the pants on. "We don't have to sleep together anymore, Keely. I'll make a pallet on the floor."

  "Naw. Ain't no need fer that. I reckon iffen you was gwine try somethin' with me, you'd already o' tried it. 'Sides, yore too much of a gentleman to do that."

  Gentleman? Guilt engulfed him. His plan was proof he was no gentleman, "Then shall we?" he asked, sweeping his arm toward the bed.

  When they were both in it, he took her hand and brushed it across his mouth. "You know, Keely, I've known scores of women in my lifetime, but never one like you."

  She wanted to pull her hand away before she was burned alive by the fire inside her, but that same fire welded her hand to his. She found she had neither the strength nor the inclination to stop his feathery kisses. "I—I ain't never knowed a man like you neither."

  His trail of kisses meandered down to her lower arm and wrist. "I suppose that gives us something in common. I wonder what else we have in common?"

  Chickadee's eyes fluttered shut. "I... don't know."

  "Do you like to dance?"

  "Yes," she managed to choke out. "One time me and T.J. Howe danced to George Franklin's fiddle music."

  Saxon smiled. "And how did T.J. hold you then?"

  "By my hands."

  '"That's not the way I dance."

  "How do you do it?"

  Again he smiled, glad the dimness of the room prevented her from seeing his grin. "Well, I hold a woman in my arms... like this." He slid one arm beneath her and the other over her. "I hold her close... like this." He pulled her toward him until their bodies touched. "And if I really enjoy being with the lady, I bend my face to her ear and whisper into it." Lips to her ear, he murmured, "Like this."

  Chickadee trembled from head to toe. Her insides went from freezing to burning. Ice and fire, both within her, both too intense. But she wanted to understand.

  "Isn't this better than just holding hands?" Saxon whispered. "Don't hear a fiddle, Keely. Listen to a symphony. Imagine soft, slow music. Feel how it wafts into your ears, sweeps through your mind, and makes your body feel like floating."

  His lips met the warm satin of her neck and journeyed to the silken hollow of her throat before they wandered to her mouth. Her breath, as sweet as the mountain air, blew over him just before he kissed her.

  Her lips were not pursed this time. Her mouth was soft and yielding, and Saxon savored the taste within it. Like a bee in a beautiful blossom, he gently plundered the exquisite nectar he found.

  And like a flower invaded by a foraging bee, Chickadee swayed with the weight of the emotions Saxon brought to her. The thought of resisting him never entered her mind; only giving him what he sought mattered. The petals of her pristine passion unfurled languidly.

  Saxon did not accept her gift. She was not ready for more than a kiss, and he would give her no more. But remembering how easily she took offense, he ended the encounter as smoothly as possible. "So sweet," he whispered, his lips still touching hers. "Would that I could kiss you until dawn creeps into our private haven."

  "What?"

  "I would like nothing better than to kiss you until morning. All night, my lips on yours, my arms around you. I can think of no pleasure more desirable."

  If his touch inflamed her, his sentiments set her ablaze. Never had she heard such sweet-sounding words, and oh, how she yearned to hear more.

  He did not disappoint her. "There are no forests in all the land that rival the verdant green of your eyes, my little mountain girl. In them I see gems far brighter than the most exquisite emeralds. I watch your spirit dance and see the happiness of your soul frolic within the crystalline depths of those magic orbs, and I wish for you to always remain happy. May you forever be the way you are, Keely McBride."

  He had no difficulty whatsoever thinking of what to say. Though he was extravagantly seducing the girl who lay quietly in his arms, he meant everything he told her. And he wanted to tell her more.

  "While I traveled up to your mountain, I saw a deer. I'd never seen anything so perfectly harmonious with nature, until I met you. Your smoothness of form never fails to enchant me. The suppleness of your body is not unlike that of the young deer. When you move, I hear no sound, but see only nimble poise. Though you've had no training in the arts of elegance, each of your actions is executed with grace."

  She struggled to understand him, but he was using so many words she'd never heard before. Nevertheless, the sound of his voice assured her he was still complimenting her. And the way she saw it, one good turn deserved another.

  "You ain't so awkward yoresef, Saxon. I got to admit, I was right proud when you larnt h
ow to traipse through the woods real quiet-like. You done real good, y'know. And when you brung down that bahr this afternoon, I was powerful surprised. You shoot near about as good as me."

  "Coming from you, that's quite a compliment. I appreciate your respect."

  "And you kiss a sight better'n T.J. Howe. Y'know? I wouldn't mind a-kissin' you all night long neither."

  "I imagine we'd both fall asleep before we could accomplish that feat."

  "We could try it though."

  Once again, he gathered her into his arms. "Yes, Keely. We certainly could at that."

  *

  When Saxon awoke, she was gone. He thought nothing of her absence until he heard a growl coming from the yard. He flew from the bed, grabbed his rifle, and ran outside.

  There sat Chickadee, Khan, and a bear cub beside her. "What's that beast doing here?" he asked.

  She withdrew some blackberries from the basket at her feet. The cub gobbled them greedily. "This here little bahr's a orphan. It was his mama you kilt yesterday. She woulda tuk keer o' him, so I reckon it's our duty to do the same. Jist till it's a mite bigger."

  He eyed the bear warily. "It won't be staying in the cabin with us, will it?"

  She giggled. "Law, yore somethin' else, Saxon. Who ever heared of a bahr a-livin' in a cabin?"

  He'd never heard of a wolf living in a cabin either, but Chickadee was obviously unable to understand the similarity. "But what if you tame it so completely it never wants to leave?"

  "I ain't gwine do that. Ever'thang's got its place, and it's got to stay thar. What's wild has to stay wild. Iffen this cub don't want to leave when it's time, I'll have to be mean to it. Hurt its feelin's by a-flangin' sticks and a-screamin' at it. I won't like a-doin' that, but sometimes it's the onliest way. It's got to stay wild."

  "Yet you have Khan. A wild wolf."

  "He's free to go. Jist don't want to, is all. I tried to set him free once, but he come back. He was already half tamed when that trapper brung him, though."

  "He rarely leaves your side, does he?"

  "Hardly never. Whar I go, he goes."

  A Canadian wolf in Boston, Saxon mused. Well, Araminta would have a house pet. The thought made him smile.

  "What are you a-grinnin' at?"

  "Uh... I'm smiling about last night. Who fell asleep first?"

  Chickadee hid her blush in the cub's neck. "You did." Saxon had slept in her arms, she recalled. And while he'd slept, she'd rained kisses all over his face and told him now handsome she thought he was. She'd spent nearly the whole night trying to understand what it was she felt for the outlander in her bed.

  When morning came, she still had no answers.

  "How'd you like to go to me and Khan's special place? Takes a while to git up thar, but you ain't never seed a purtier place, Saxon. We could take us some lunch iffen you want. Ain't got nothin' better to do. Sound good to you?"

  He nodded. "Let's ride. Mounted, it wouldn't take us as long to get there."

  Chickadee stood and brushed off her breeches. "No, don't reckon it would. But I ain't gwine ride no horse."

  Saxon frowned. "Why not?"

  "I—I don't like the way they smell. They stank."

  "Stink? You can split open a bear's entrails yet shy away from the scent of horseflesh?" He stepped off the porch and went to meet her in the yard. When he reached her he took her shoulders. "Come now, Keely. The truth is you're afraid of horses, aren't you?"

  She snatched his hands away. "Ain't afeared o' nothin'! 'Specially no stupid horse!"

  "Hagen is gentle as a lamb."

  "Hagen?"

  "Copenhagen, my horse. All you have to do is sit in front of me. I promise I won't let you fall off."

  "Done tole you I ain't gwine ride no horse!"

  Smugly, Saxon folded his arms across his chest. "So there's a streak of cowardice in you after all. I knew if I looked for it long enough, I'd find it."

  "Coward?" she yelled, her hands on her hips. "I brung that dang horse up here, didn't I? I ain't no coward!"

  With a sweep of his head, Saxon pointed to Copenhagen. "Prove it then."

  She looked at Hagen, who was munching contentedly on a patch of fresh grass. "Said we'd take lunch. Reckon I better git that together first."

  "Making excuses?" Saxon asked as she disappeared into the cabin.

  "Shet up!"

  *

  "No, Keely," he said when she went to the right side of Hagen. "You always mount from the left side."

  She stepped back, certain she'd already irritated Hagen with her mistake. "Didn't know horses knowed thur right from thur left."

  "They don't, but—" Saxon bent his head and snickered. "Just come over to this side."

  She did as requested and stared uneasily at the stirrup. "Well, ain't you gwine gimme a leg up?"

  "Get up yourself." He handed her the reins.

  Hagen, sensing Chickadee's inexperience and nervousness, promptly took advantage of the situation and began to paw the ground and chomp at the bit.

  "He's a-tryin' to kick me!" Chickadee squealed, jumping away from Hagen. She threw the reins back at Saxon.

  "He's not trying to kick you. He's merely anxious to be on his way. It's been a while since he's been ridden, and he's restless."

  "Why don't we jist go afoot?"

  "Fraidycat."

  Her green eyes were afire with indignation. "I ain't no fraidycat!"

  "Then get on that horse!"

  "That's easy fer you to say. You been a-ridin' since you was little. I ain't never been on a horse in my life!"

  "And I'd never been on a bear hunt in mine. Nor had I shot or skinned one until yeday. But I did those things, Keely. I may have been awkward doing them, but I did them." Once again, he held out the reins.

  With trembling fingers, she took them. "All right, Hagen. You and me's gwine ride. I ain't much fer ridin', but yore uppity master here's got a lesson to larn about Chickadee McBride."

  Her face set in grim lines of determination, she reached up and took fast hold of Hagen's flowing mane, tugging on it to make sure it wouldn't come out when she hauled herself up. Satisfied it wouldn't, she pulled her foot up to the stirrup and mounted.

  She wasn't as graceful as she usually was, but Saxon was pleased with her attempt. And he started to tell her so when she yelped once and promptly fell off the other side.

  He couldn't control himself. He knew he shouldn't laugh, but Chickadee McBride bested... well; it was something he never thought he'd see.

  "Iffen I could git up, I'd shoot you, Saxon. And when I'd done that, I'd shoot that stupid animule next!"

  He bent and looked under Hagen's belly, Chickadee still on the ground on the other side. "Get up and get back on," he told her merrily.

  "No."

  "Get up."

  "I said no!"

  Saxon walked around Hagen and yanked her to her feet. "You're going to ride this horse, and you're going to do it right now."

  "Really? Who's gwine make me?"

  Saxon smiled a lazy, mocking grin. Without a word, he went behind her, slipped his arms beneath hers, and began to carry her around Hagen.

  He'd only taken a few steps when she squirmed to the ground, curled her arms over his shoulders, and threw him over her back. When he was laid out flat, she twisted one of his arms behind him. "I said I ain't gwine ride that animule, and I ain't gwine ride it."

  He struggled, but couldn't move without causing extreme pain to his arm. "Dammit, Keely! Don't you want to learn new things? You weren't born knowing how to shoot. And you didn't come into this world knowing how to throw grown men to the ground either. You had to practice those things. It's the same thing with learning to ride! Now, if you don't want me to lose my ever-growing respect for you, get on that horse and ride him!"

  She saw his eyes were sparkling with anger. For many moments she stared into them, her own eyes glittering defiantly as she silently dared him to break the hostile silence.

  "Well?" he finally a
sked. "Are you brave or aren't you? Where's that stalwart spirit that so intrigues me?"

  She mumbled something Saxon assumed was a curse and staggered to her feet. Hagen turned his head to look at her, long blades of grass hanging from his mouth. "Thank that was real funny what you did to me, don't you, you sorry excuse fer a ridin' critter!"

  "He didn't do that to you. You fell off all by yourself. When you get in the saddle, find your balance. Don't lean so far over the other side."

  "Why don't it got some kind o' handle on it? 'Pears to me it'd be a sight easier to git on and stay on iffen thur was somethin' to hang on to."

  "There are saddles that have large pommels, but this one is not that kind."

  "I don't know what a pommel is, but y'know, iffen a feller was to invent a saddle with a handle on it, I bet—"

  "Stop stalling and get on."

  She snatched the reins from him, stuck her tongue out, and turned toward Hagen. She mounted as she had before and when seated, she took a handful of Hagen's mane and squeezed hard. "All right, Saxon. I'm on. Now nice and easy-like, you git on too."

  "No."

  A yell rose in her throat, but she squelched it, knowing a sudden shout would startle Hagen. Between clenched teeth, she hissed, "Iffen you don't git on, I'm a-gittin' off. And when I do, I'm a-gittin' my shootin'-arn and—"

  "Ride him. Take him for a short, slow walk around the yard. I swear nothing will happen to you. Just press in with your knees, and he'll go."

  "Not withouten you."

  "I hate to do this to you, Miss McBride, but you've given me no choice." Smartly, he slapped Hagen's rump. The horse jumped slightly and then ambled into the yard, still chewing his mouthful of grass.

  Chickadee closed her eyes and laid low over his neck. "Lord o' mercy, Saxon, please hep me! Come and git him afore he lits out a-runnin' with me on him!"

  Nonchalantly, Saxon took a seat on the porch step.

  "Saxon, you worthless cuss! Dang you, he's a-settin' in to git all fidgety!"

  "If he were any more relaxed, he'd be dead. Sit up straight and get the feel of his gait."

  She continued to cling to Hagen's neck.

  "If you don't do as I say, I'll come slap him again. And then you'll really know what it's like when he's fidgety."