“‘Cause we want children,” Harry explained impatiently, sounding as if she should have figured that out by herself. He puffed up his chest again. “A man wants to leave a bit of himself when his time comes to depart this earth.”
Sadie had to cough to cover up the fact that she was choking. Children? Heck. Both brothers were nearing sixty years old.
“Ah, Sadie?” Dwayne said. “I don’t suppose that if you find that gold first and are wanting to donate it to a good cause like your papa intended, you would think Harry and me are good causes?”
“You wouldn’t have to donate all the gold to us,” Harry said, warming to his brother’s idea. He leaned forward and rubbed his hands together. And she’d swear that she could almost see the beginnings of an idea forming behind his puckered brow. “We could pool our information and hunt for the gold together. Then split it.”
Dwayne was shaking his head, frowning at his brother. “We already tried that with her papa, remember?” he told Harry. He looked at Sadie. And damn if he didn’t waggle his finger at her again. “No offense, missy, but since we’re wanting to buy two wives, it’s going to take all the gold. We gotta have some left for when we come home, so we can take good care of them.”
Harry frowned back at his brother, not liking that his plan was so quickly shot down. He darted a look at Sadie, then suddenly stood up. “We gotta go now,” he said, prodding his brother to get him moving. “We need to make camp before it gets dark.”
“Why can’t we just stay here?” Dwayne asked, once he was standing. “She’s already got a fire going.”
Harry shook his head and nudged Dwayne toward their canoe. “She’s got a husband,” he reminded his brother. “She might want some privacy.”
Dwayne, suddenly grinning again, turned a dull shade of red. “Oh,” he whispered to Harry, not intending for her to hear. “You mean they might want to diddle.”
This time Harry’s nudge was not so gentle. He gave his brother a mighty shove into the river. Dwayne caught his balance by grabbing the canoe, then continued to wade out and climb into the stern. Harry grabbed the bow and shoved the boat toward deep water, then quickly climbed in and picked up his oar.
Dwayne waved his paddle into the air. “‘Bye, Sadie,” he said. “We’ll let you know where Plum’s claim is after we take out all the gold,” he said as they turned into the current, letting it carry them away. He twisted in his seat, still waving his paddle, still grinning. “We might even give you a nugget, just so you won’t be skunked.”
They began to slip toward the bend in the river, but still Dwayne kept waving and talking. “Say hi to your husband for us!” he hollered. “And remember, missy. If he don’t treat you right, you come see me and Harry. We ain’t afraid of them MacKeages.”
Harry, apparently not liking his brother volunteering him for such dangerous service, slapped the water with his oar, soaking Dwayne. Dwayne sputtered something under his breath while wiping the river off himself.
The last Sadie saw of them, both men were paddling furiously, Harry determined to outrun his brother and Dwayne determined to catch him, apparently forgetting they were both sitting at opposite ends of the same boat.
Chapter Sixteen
Staring at the spot where Dwayne and Harry had disappeared, Sadie fought the bubble of laughter that was threatening to burst from her belly.
Buying wives. For all these years those two old goats had been hunting for gold because they were sure they had found a way to make the long winters less lonely.
Shaking her head in disbelief, Sadie walked back to her camp, continued past the fire, and stopped just in front of a giant boulder. She crossed her arms under her chest and smiled at the tall clump of brush beside it.
“Now do you understand why they’re harmless?” she asked the dense honeysuckle.
Morgan emerged from behind the honeysuckle to stand in front of her. And he didn’t appear anywhere near as amused as she was.
“Do you suppose a man can sell a wife in this catalog they spoke of?” he asked, his eyes gleaming in the last light of the setting sun. He suddenly sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. “Not that I could get very much for you,” he added tiredly. “A disobedient wife can’t be worth a hundred dollars.”
“They’re good men, Morgan,” Sadie continued, deciding to ignore his not so subtle threat. “Between the two of them there isn’t a mean bone in their bodies. Either of them would give the shirt off his back to someone in need.”
“I will admit they do appear more a danger to themselves than to anyone else.” He took hold of her shoulders. “But when it comes to gold, even the most timid of men turn lethal, Mercedes. They become blinded by the promise of riches. They act without thinking.”
“Not Dwayne and Harry.” Sadie shrugged free and walked to the campfire, pulled the now boiling soup off the grate, and set it on the ground to cool. She picked up her spoon and pointed it at Morgan.
“They’re my friends,” she told him, accentuating her words by poking the air with the utensil. “And you will trust my judgment,” she added. “Marriage is supposed to be a partnership, Morgan. Tell me, do you think I’m stupid?”
“What?”
“Do you think I’m stupid?” she repeated. “That I’m a simple-minded woman who needs a man to look after her?”
His eyes narrowed at her question, and his jaw flexed while he thought about his answer. Sadie almost laughed out loud. The poor guy looked like one of those men who’d just been asked by his wife if her pants made her ass look fat. He understood that any answer he gave would be the wrong one.
Sadie stopped pointing her spoon and used it instead to stir the soup, hurrying the cooling process along. Their overcooked dinner was starting to look like mush.
“I don’t think you’re stupid,” he finally said, his voice guarded. “I just think you’re too trusting.”
Sadie slumped her shoulders. Wrong answer. “Too trusting,” she repeated. “As in the way I’m trusting you?”
She watched Morgan take a deep breath and let it out with a harsh sigh. He rubbed his hands over his face before he looked at her again. He slowly shook his head.
“What is it you’re wanting from me, Mercedes?”
“I want you to respect my judgment when it comes to Dwayne and Harry. Until either of them does something that proves different, I want you to treat them kindly. And,” she said, pointing her spoon again when he started to speak, “I want you to trust me.”
He snapped his mouth shut and started thinking again. Sadie took a careful sip of the soup and nearly gagged. She turned the pot upside-down and dumped their ruined dinner onto the ground, then rummaged around in her dry pack, pulled out two granola bars, and tossed one to Morgan.
He caught it, examined the bar with a critical glare, then turned that glare on her. Sadie lifted her shoulders.
“Hey. You probably wouldn’t get fifty dollars for me. You beginning to rethink this marriage thing?”
“I’m beginning to think it’s time to go to bed,” he said, standing up and tossing the granola bar on top of her dry pack. He walked toward the sleeping bag she’d laid out by the ledge, pulling his sword off his back as he went. Sadie quickly scrambled to her feet.
“There’s one more thing I want, Morgan.”
“And what would that be?” he asked, turning his head to look at her, lifting one arrogant brow.
Well, damn. She didn’t know how it had happened, but she was pretending to be this man’s wife for the next seven days, and she assumed that included sleeping with him. Not that she minded. Truth told, she kind of liked the idea. But they needed to get a few things straight first.
“A-about our sleeping together,” she started, nervously wiping her hands on her thighs. “I want to…but…”
He turned fully to face her, and Sadie nearly lost her nerve. But she squared her shoulders and lifted her chin. By God, this gorgeous, hulking, perfect example of man was not going to intimidate her.
>
“I want to set some ground rules,” she finally told him. “I keep my shirt on, and my back is off limits.”
Instead of an argument, Morgan simply shrugged his shoulders and nodded in agreement before turning back to their bed. He set his sword down beside it and began taking off his clothes. Sadie tossed her own granola bar onto her dry pack and walked into the darkness toward the river.
She took her time washing up before she rolled her bra, body sock, panties, and glove into her jeans. Then, wearing only her flannel shirt, she headed back to camp—and her waiting husband.
* * *
Morgan gritted his teeth as his wife crawled under the covers beside him and stifled a groan as her long naked legs slid against his. Sweat broke out on his forehead. Blood rushed to his groin. And with only the barest bit of control, he kept his hands to himself.
“What is your necklace made of?” she asked, her hand going to the burl at his neck. “Is it covered with some sort of glow-in-the-dark paint? It seems to always be shining.”
He wanted to jump her beautiful bones, and the woman wanted to talk. Morgan took a calming breath. Maybe talking was not such a bad thing. She obviously needed some time to get used to sharing a bed with him, and he could use the distraction to get his urges under control.
“It’s made of cherrywood,” he told her, lifting it from her hand and holding it up between them. “And I don’t know why it swirls like that. It must be a play of the light,” he said, ignoring the fact that the light had left with the sun.
“Why do you wear it?”
“It’s a gift from an old friend.”
“It looks just like the cane Daar was carrying,” Sadie mused, frowning at the burl. “It was cherrywood and had knots in it just like this one.”
“It is from Daar,” Morgan admitted. “That crazy old man said it was a good luck charm. I think he’s touched in the head.”
“Yet you wear his gift.”
“He’s old. I have no wish to hurt his feelings.”
She patted his chest, apparently pleased by his answer, then left her hand there, her fingers lightly caressing his left breast. Morgan closed his eyes and prayed for patience.
Then snapped them open the moment her lips touched his.
The cagey little vixen had managed to capture his hands and was holding on to them with the desperation of a woman determined to have her way. She pushed his arms over his head, kissing him senseless as she wiggled to maneuver her body on top of his.
As she had promised, she was wearing only her shirt and was completely naked from the waist down. Every inch of her exposed skin touching his made the muscles in his body tighten in response. She weighed nothing, but still he was having a hard time catching his breath.
His manhood jutted into her belly, and Morgan was unable to keep from lifting against her. She squeezed her knees into his thighs and rubbed against him in slow, sensuous motions.
He groaned into her mouth and pulled his hands free in order to grasp her hips, hoping to slow her down.
She tore her mouth away from his, then placed her lips along his throat, and lower, where she lightly kissed back and forth over his chest.
He groaned again as Sadie straddled his lap. She was being so passionate, so honest about her desire for him, and he didn’t want her pulling away with worry that he wouldn’t keep to their bargain.
Dammit. He just wanted to make love to her.
“Slow down, Mercedes,” he said between clenched teeth.
“But I want you. Now,” she said, squirming against him. “I want to feel you inside me again,” she added in a husky whisper, feathering her fingers over his shoulders.
He held back a groan when her hands moved down the insides of his arms, along his ribs, and stopped to stroke his hips.
Had he really expected his disobedient wife to listen? And why was he second-guessing his luck? He liked her aggression, her honest and unskilled passion. He especially liked that she seemed to have forgotten her shyness with him.
She moved restlessly above him and kissed him with open-mouthed abandon. Morgan simply gave up then, taking her with him as he rolled them over until he was on top. He nudged her thighs open and settled between them and captured her hair so that he could still her wandering lips just long enough to kiss them.
He rocked his hips in sensual circles, using his arousal to build her desire. She groaned into his mouth, dug her nails into his back, and wrapped both of her legs tightly around his waist.
He leaned up and stared down at her, barely able to see her expression in the pale moonlight. “Do you trust me, Mercedes?” he asked. “To the point that I can touch you anywhere but your back?”
“Yes,” she whispered, nodding as she strained against him.
He rolled so that he lay beside her, cradling her against him. He started with her belly button, gently stroking and teasing with his fingertips, waiting for either her resistance or her acceptance. She lifted herself into his touch, making a sound of pleasure that sent a shiver coursing through his body. He splayed his hand wide, spanning over her belly from hip to hip, and moved lower, laying pressure with his palm on her most sensitive place.
She dug her fingers into his chest, raised her head to meet his lips, and kissed him.
Morgan moved his hand lower, cupping her, curling a finger inside her. He swallowed her gasp, captured her restless knee between his, and used his thumb to send waves of pleasure spiraling through her. He felt her tighten against his hand, felt her lift her hips in search of more.
He pulled away and reached under the edge of their sleeping bag, remembering her worry about getting pregnant. He was in no hurry to start a family, not until they both agreed to it.
He found the foil packet he had stashed there while she was washing up and quickly placed the protection between them. Then he rose up over her, spread her thighs with his knees, and slowly slid into her welcoming warmth.
He’d just found his guaranteed spot in heaven. She was so warm, so perfectly built, so well matched to him. He covered her face with kisses as he slowly moved back, then thrust forward, then back, creating a rhythm that had her tightening again.
Morgan lost what was left of his control. He thrust deeply into her, more forcefully, and withdrew only enough to do it again. He brought her with him this time to that blinding place of white energy he had found last night. Mercedes convulsed around him, shouted her pleasure, and sent him spiraling into the maelstrom with a rewardingly arrogant shout of his own.
He dropped his head to her shoulder, only to find himself touching the flannel of her shirt instead of soft skin. He lay unmoving, breathing heavily, savoring the feel of her lingering tremors.
Reluctant to move but knowing she needed to breathe, Morgan finally rolled onto his back, welcoming the cold night air rushing over his damp skin. She immediately followed, tucking herself up against him, wrapping one arm around his waist and settling the other one near his head so that she could run her fingers through his hair.
And he lay there. And he waited.
It was a good five minutes before she spoke.
“That was wonderful,” she whispered, squeezing him.
He grunted in answer, rubbing his hand up and down her flannel-encased arm. Aye, it was wonderful but somehow not quite as fulfilling with cloth standing between them. And that was the reason for his sudden black mood. He wanted nothing between them. Not cloth, and especially not her scars.
She needed time. And patience. That is what it would take to cure her shyness.
“And because we’re married, we can do this whenever we want?” she asked.
“Yes,” he told her, wondering where her thoughts were headed.
“And as often as we want?”
He tilted his head just enough to see her expression and almost burst into laughter, his dark mood suddenly gone. Mercedes looked quite pleased with the idea of making love to him as often as she wanted. He tapped the end of her nose, then tucked her firmly
against him so that her head rested on his shoulder. He pulled the sleeping bag over her back and used it to swaddle her tightly.
“Not quite that often, wife. A woman is weak after making love. She needs at least until morning to gather her strength.”
She fell silent again, and he couldn’t decide if he should be glad or worried. She suddenly yawned, apparently accepting his ridiculous statement as truth, and snuggled against him like a contented, well-fed cat.
“Morgan?” she sleepily whispered into the silence.
“Aye?”
“When I find the gold, I’m giving some of it to Harry and Dwayne.”
Chapter Seventeen
There were advantages to this marriage thing, one of which was having such a large, very warm body to snuggle against.
“Good morning, wife.”
Yes, it was morning—the morning after, to be specific. What does a woman say to a man she was intimate with just a few hours ago?
Sadie decided to follow his example.
“Good morning, husband.”
His grin broadened. “Have you regained your strength?” he asked, his voice husky, his eyes dark with obvious intent.
“It—it’s daylight.”
He nodded. “Aye. It is daylight.”
“We can’t…we shouldn’t…no, Morgan, I’m still quite tired.”
He stared at her for another overlong minute, then suddenly brushed back the covers and stood up, picking up his pants as he straightened. “Too bad,” he said as he slipped into them. “I was planning to take you to the site of an old logging camp I know of that’s not too far from here.”
He shrugged again and began to put on his shirt. “I thought it might be the one you’re looking for and that Faol was leading us to. But if you need more rest, then go back to sleep.”
Sadie shot upright and was standing before she remembered that she was naked from the waist down. Her cheeks—on her face and her backside—threatened to blister with embarrassment. Sadie jerked down her shirttails to cover herself. This time their state of dress was reversed. Now she was the exhibitionist, and he was the one looking on with interest.
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