The Courtship of Izzy McCree

by Ruth Ryan Langan

  Izzy had been prepared to feel disgust or revulsion. Or, with luck, perhaps nothing at all. But she was completely unprepared for the tiny thread of pleasure that curled along her spine. And the swift, unsettling rush of heat when the hard contours of his body pressed into her softness.

  “Can’t you kiss me back, Isabella?” His warm breath fanned her face, adding to her discomfort.

  “I can’t.”

  “Why?”

  “I…don’t know how.” It shamed her to admit such a thing. She could feel the heat staining her cheeks as she waited for him to mock her. How he must be secretly laughing at her admission.

  Instead, he said simply, “Then I’ll show you. First, you do this.” He touched his mouth to hers in the sweetest of kisses. He felt her go rigid with shock. At once his voice took on a soothing note as he murmured against her lips, “And then you do this.” Easing his hands along her sides, he forced her arms upward until they were twined around his neck. “Now,” he muttered against her mouth, “you’re holding me the same way I’m holding you. How does it feel so far?”

  “Fi—fine.” The word was barely a whisper. It was all she could manage, because her throat was so constricted. His mouth was actually touching hers. Now that they were facing each other, their bodies touching, she could feel him in every part of her. Her thin night shift was no barrier.

  She lay perfectly still, afraid to move, afraid even to breathe.

  “Now, Isabella,” he said softly, “you touch your lips to mine.”

  He saw her eyes widen, before she pursed her lips and screwed up her courage. He half smiled as her mouth brushed his and her lashes fluttered, then closed. But his smile fled at the sudden jolt to his system.

  He hadn’t expected such a reaction. This innocent little kiss of hers was far more potent than anything he’d anticipated.

  “Now, this is what we call kissing. It isn’t so bad, is it?” Before she could pull back he took the kiss deeper and heard her little moan. Pleasure? Or protest? There was no way to know as he gathered her close and kissed her until they were both breathless. Then, before she knew what was happening, he ran his hands down her sides until they encountered the swell of her breasts. She gasped as his thumbs began to stroke.

  “Sweet salvation.” It was all she could manage to say over the sudden wave of intense pleasure that nearly swamped her. Her body was behaving in the most unnatural way. Her breasts tingled and seemed to swell with each stroke. Deep inside she felt a fist tighten and then relax into a liquid warmth. Her nerves were coiled as tautly as bowstrings, and she felt that at any moment she might snap.

  And still he moved against her, his body brushing hers, adding to her pleasure. And her confusion.

  Suddenly she became aware of his arousal. Her gasps turned to a muffled cry. “Oh, stop. You must stop.” Gathering all her strength, she pushed away.

  Matt ran a hand through his hair in frustration. His own breathing was none too steady. And his heart was racing as though he’d just outrun a rampaging steer. “What’s wrong with you, Isabella? You liked it. I could tell.”

  His words made her flush with shame. It was true. She had liked it. And that was what was so frightening. This mating wasn’t supposed to be pleasurable. At least, she didn’t think so.

  “I suppose…” She avoided his eyes. “I suppose I liked it well enough.”

  “Then why did you want to stop?”

  “Because I can’t think when you’re…when we’re…doing that.” How could she possibly defend herself if she let herself get lost in the pleasure? She needed a clear head to think this through. And she couldn’t think when he was holding her, touching her, kissing her.

  “Why do you need to think? I thought by now you had learned to trust me.”

  “I do. I trust you.” Even her voice was different, the words breathy, halting. She hated the way she sounded. Weak. Silly. Like those women who said one thing but meant another. Oh, she’d watched them, teasing, flirting, pressing their bodies against the men, then pretending to be offended when the men responded.

  “This doesn’t feel like trust.” He touched a hand to her cheek and felt her flinch.

  After all this, they were back where they’d started.

  His tone hardened. “I’m not going to hurt you, Isabella.”

  “I know.”

  “That’s funny. You don’t act as though you know that.” His eyes narrowed. “Who hurt you like this?”

  She closed her eyes, wishing he would remove the offending hand, yet praying he wouldn’t. There was something about his touch. Something that was different from all the others who had ever touched her. But how could she possibly admit such a thing to him?

  He waited for the space of several heartbeats. He tried to keep the edge from his tone. “Are you going to answer me?”

  She squeezed her eyes tightly shut, as though to blot out the memories. But they were there, even in the darkest corners of her mind, taunting her, haunting her, hurting her still.

  “I…can’t.”

  “Can’t?” His words were rough with anger and frustration. “Or won’t?”

  She refused to open her eyes. She couldn’t bear to see the disgust in his.

  “I had hoped this time apart would change things.” With quick, angry movements he tossed aside the blanket and scrambled out of bed. He wasn’t sure what angered him more—her rejection, or the fact that, even knowing how she felt, he was still aroused. And about to be denied once again. “But I see now I was wrong. You didn’t really come here to be a wife and mother. You just wanted a place to hide.”

  He stepped into the clean pants, then yanked on his boots. Without even bothering to button his shirt, he strode across the room. “I suppose the best thing for both of us would be to send Aaron to town in the morning with a message for Webster Sutton.”

  “A…message?”

  “For old Boone. The next time he comes to town, he can drive his stage out here to pick you up and take you back to wherever you came from. It seems the only fair thing to do.”

  Thoroughly shaken, Izzy lay stiff, unmoving, unable to say a word in her own defense.

  He flicked a glance over her, then away, mistaking her silence for approval. “I guess that’s that, then. In the meantime, I’ll have to content myself with sleeping in the barn.”

  With his words ringing in her ears, Izzy heard the door slam. Heard the crunch of his footsteps as he stalked away.

  One tiny tear slipped from between her tightly closed lids. She wiped it away and buried her face in the pillow. She had no right to weep. She had brought this on herself. She had risked everything on this journey, thinking she could leave the darkness of her past behind and create a whole new life for herself. But there were simply too many memories. She hadn’t escaped them after all. They were locked inside her mind. And every time she tried to forget, they leapt out at her, paralyzing her with fear.

  And now, her new husband was feeling cheated. He had every right to such feelings. He’d thought he was taking a wife. But all he’d earned in the bargain was another mouth to feed. Oh, he’d gained a cook and housekeeper, and someone to help with his children. But he was still being denied a wife.

  She’d tried to do her wifely duty. God knows she’d tried. And she had really thought she could go through with it. Especially when it felt so good to be held in his arms. And kissed. And touched.

  But the fear was stronger, blotting out the pleasure, bringing back all the old memories, until she thought she would suffocate beneath their weight.

  And now he was sending her away.

  That’s what she got for pretending to be something she wasn’t. When she took off the mask at day’s end, Isabella became just plain Izzy all over again.

  Matt stood hunched inside his cowhide jacket, watching the mustangs. After the week he’d put in, he ought to sleep for the next ten hours or more, even if it was in the barn. Instead, he was too keyed up to even go inside and lie down.

&n
bsp; How could he have been such a fool? He’d actually convinced himself that Isabella had been flirting with him. He’d fooled himself into believing that he’d read invitation in her eyes.

  And all the while, it had been fear.

  He rolled a cigarette, held a match to the tip, then leaned on the railing. Damn the fates that had brought her here. Didn’t he already have enough to deal with? The last thing he needed was another problem.

  He wasn’t thrilled about the idea of sending her away. Not just because of the money it would take. Money he could ill afford. But also because of this niggling little guilt that was beginning to eat at him. Was her silence acquiescence? Or had he misread her?

  She’d traveled so far, uprooting herself from family and friends to answer a stranger’s needs. She’d risked everything safe and familiar to step into the role of wife and mother. And she had told him that there was nothing left to return to.

  Still, what was that to him? After all, he hadn’t invited her here in the first place. In light of this impasse between them, it would be foolish to try to hold her to her vows. After all, what future could they have together?

  Of course, there were the children. If she couldn’t be a wife to him, at least she could be a mother to them. He could see that Aaron, Benjamin, Clement and Del had already taken to her. They were easy and comfortable with her, and she with them. If only she could be as comfortable with him. But theirs was a far different problem. One he didn’t wish to dwell upon, since it was such a blow to his masculine pride.

  The children, though, were another matter. They would be disappointed. They would want to know why he was sending her away. And he’d never be able to explain.

  Aaron would know why.

  The thought crept unbidden into his mind. Aaron and his uncanny ability to watch, to observe, to see what others couldn’t see. Aaron had already noted the tension between them. And had even come up with a solution.

  Aaron and his silly notion of courtship. Trinkets and pretty words.

  As Matt watched, the stallion began threading its way through the milling throng of mares. When one began sidestepping nervously, the stallion whickered low in his throat. The mare’s head came up, and the stallion nuzzled her, as gently as a kiss, until she became perfectly calm.

  Matt found himself shivering at the tenderness of the scene. Did all of nature’s creatures have this need for tenderness? For trust?

  An odd little thought began to take shape in his mind. Could it be that Aaron’s notions weren’t so silly after all?

  What would it take to court a woman like Isabella? Gifts. She needed another dress. The one she had was threadbare. She had to wash it every night, so that it would be clean for the next day. But he didn’t feel he had the right to waste needed money on something so frivolous as a woman’s dress. He’d suffered enough guilt just buying her candy.

  He smiled at the memory of her face, flushed with surprise and pleasure, when he’d handed her the peppermint stick. It had been worth the price.

  He fisted a hand at his side. Who was he kidding? Hell, he couldn’t afford gifts.

  Still, flowers, perhaps. Some still bloomed in the lower meadows, where the cold hadn’t yet reached. But he couldn’t spare the time it would take to search them out. Not if he intended to break this entire herd to saddle as quickly as possible.

  He found himself thinking of other things he might do. Something special to cook? She loved cooking for them. Maybe an elk. But that meant spending time away from home, tracking, stalking, killing and skinning.

  His frustration grew. Why was he wasting his energy on such nonsense? He just didn’t have time for this. How could he possibly court a woman? He barely had time for his family now. How could he justify anything more?

  He took a final drag on his cigarette, then dropped it and ground it out beneath his boot.

  No matter what Aaron or the others thought, it would be best if he sent her away now, before she insinuated herself more deeply into their lives.

  In the morning he would dispatch Aaron to town with a message for old Boone to swing by the next time he was in the area.

  The decision did nothing to satisfy the restlessness she’d stirred in his loins. In fact, the decision brought him no comfort at all. And a great deal more guilt.

  Chapter Nine

  “Better keep away from Pa today.”

  Izzy looked up from the fire when she heard Benjamin’s whispered command to his brother and sister.

  “He’s mad as a hornet about something.” Benjamin turned to his little sister. “You do something to rile him, Del?”

  “Not me. Maybe it was Clement.”

  The younger boy shook his head in denial. “It wasn’t anything I did. Pa’s been grouchy since early this morning.” Clement pulled on his parka, prepared to start his chores. “I saw him coming out of the barn just about sunup, and he looked mad enough to wrestle a bear. Pa didn’t even give Aaron a chance to eat breakfast before sending him to town with a note for Mr. Sutton.” He turned to Izzy. “You know anything about that, Isabella?”

  Izzy felt her cheeks burn and turned away, avoiding his eyes. “Maybe he needs some supplies.”

  “Maybe.” Benjamin eyed the last biscuit, then decided he’d lost his appetite. His father hadn’t even come inside for breakfast, choosing instead to get right to work. Not a very hopeful sign. “Guess I’ll go out to the corral and see how Pa’s doing with those mustangs.”

  “I’ll come with you.” Del reached for her sheepskin jacket, but her older brother shook his head.

  “I think you’d better stay in here with Isabella.”

  “Why?”

  “Pa said it’s time you learned how to do lady things. Like cook and clean and stuff.”

  “I don’t want to do lady things. I want to go with you.”

  “Fine, then.” Benjamin slammed out of the cabin, with Del in tow. “But don’t blame me if Pa jumps all over you for something.”

  “It won’t be the first time.” The little girl’s words trailed behind her as she struggled to keep up with her brother’s strides. “But I don’t know why he’s so grumpy now that Isabella’s here. I thought Aaron said she was going to make Pa smile again.”

  Izzy’s heart lurched. As she added lye soap to the tub of hot water and began to scrub Matt’s dirty clothes on the washboard, she berated herself for the mess she’d made of things. It seemed to be the story of her life. When was she ever going to learn to accept her limitations? Look at her, trying to act as though she belonged. Trying to make herself into a fancy lady.

  She tossed the clothes into a bucket of clean hot water and stirred them around until they were thoroughly rinsed. Then she hauled a basket of clothes outside and began to hang them on the line.

  She glanced toward the corral, where the children were whooping and shouting. Every so often she could see a horse rear up, and see Matt’s body jerking and lurching as he stuck in the saddle and held to the reins.

  What he was doing looked barbaric. What kind of man lived in the wilderness and rode wild horses?

  As she had so often since her arrival, she wondered what had ever possessed her to come to this godforsaken place and pledge herself to a man like that. He might try to pass himself off as a simple farmer, but he was far different from any farmer she’d ever known. There was something wild and dark about Matthew Prescott.

  Still, he had been patient with her last night. More patient than she had a right to expect. Maybe, if she worked very hard, and did everything as perfectly as possible, she could make up for it.

  When the last of the clothes flapped on the line, she drew her shawl around her shoulders and hurried inside, determined to find a way to make amends.

  The fireplace gleamed. Izzy had polished the stones until every trace of soot and smoke had been erased. Now, as late afternoon sunbeams streamed through the windows, they shot little rainbow prisms across the ceiling.

  A venison roast simmered in a skillet. Sever
al loaves of freshly baked bread sat cooling on the table. The cabin was sweet with the fragrance of apple slices swimming in brown sugar and cinnamon.

  Izzy placed a clean towel over a mound of biscuit dough she’d set aside to rise. Then she made her way outside to fetch the dry clothes from the line.

  The shouts and hoots of laughter from the corral snagged her attention. She glanced at the three children seated on the top wrung. There was no sign of Matt.

  Curious, she made her way across the yard and peered through the rails. Matt was just picking himself up from the dirt. When he saw her, his frown deepened. He stared at her for the space of several seconds. Then, limping, he snatched up his hat and jammed it back on his head before crossing to where a spotted mustang stood eyeing him.

  “Think you’ve won, don’t you?”

  At his angry words Izzy pressed her hands to her throat. Had he directed those words to the horse? Or to her?

  He heaved himself into the saddle, and the horse reared up, pawing the air.

  When that tactic didn’t manage to dislodge the weight on its back, the mare sped around the corral, bucking and kicking.

  From her vantage point Izzy watched in amazement as Matt’s body underwent a series of contortions. Shoulders hunched, head snapped, back arched. How could any person take such punishment? Still, he managed to remain in the saddle. And as the minutes ticked by and finally stretched into an hour, the horse’s reactions became less violent. Except for an occasional rebellious toss of the head, the mustang seemed to accept the stranger on its back, and even to respond to his directions. Slowly, gradually, horse and rider began to move around the corral in some semblance of rhythm.

  Izzy watched as Matt methodically put the horse through its paces, walking, trotting, running, then coming to a halt before he slid from the saddle.

  He ran a hand through the tangled mane and kept his voice low, soothing. “You did just fine. But then I’m not surprised. That was all just bluster and show to cover up how scared you really were. No need to be afraid anymore. You’re going to be well taken care of.”