Lisa Plumley - [Crabtree 02]

by The Scoundrel

  “They’ll have to wait longer,” Daniel said, and kissed her into a willingness to stay awake…forever, if necessary.

  Chapter Fourteen

  “You seem happy this morning,” Sarah remarked.

  Smiling and lively, she spooned a tremendous quantity of scrambled eggs on Daniel’s plate. Her bustle swayed as she worked. He felt his gaze drawn to it—drawn to her—and couldn’t help but grin.

  “Why shouldn’t I be happy?” He rubbed his freshly shaved jawline and regarded her with satisfaction. “I’ve got the best wife in the territory and the drowsiest rooster.”

  The blessed animal had actually crowed late for once, allowing Daniel a chance to sleep longer. Refreshed, he’d coaxed Sarah into another round of loving at sunrise. She’d proved a natural talent at kissing and caressing, at giving pleasure and—most importantly to him—at receiving it.

  It was no wonder their arrangement was turning out so well, he mused now. He’d found a friend, a wife and an uncomplicated lover, all in one. To be sure, he felt a lucky man.

  With that thought in mind, Daniel relaxed in his chair, watching Sarah. She puttered beside him in a kitchen turned brilliant with sunshine, arranging his toasted bread just so. A knowing grin enlivened her face. It made her seem surpassingly beautiful, as did her simple care for him. She was a woman unlike any he’d ever known.

  “I hope you’re hungry,” she chattered, ladling on still more eggs before returning her skillet to the stovetop. “I seem to have lost track of how many eggs I was cracking this morning. There’s a veritable mountain here, and sausage besides. I don’t know what’s the matter with me.”

  “I do.” He eyed her confidently, pleased with both of them. “’Tis related to your husband’s skills in the bedroom.”

  “Daniel, hush!” Her eyes sparkled prettily. “Eli’s just in the next room, practicing for the spelling bee before school. He might come in. He might hear you talking so—”

  “Wickedly? Appreciatively?” Daniel felt a devilish smile quirk his mouth, and knew he’d never met a morning with more robust good cheer. “Truthfully?”

  Sarah pursed her lips in pretend chagrin.

  “You know,” he observed thoughtfully, “when you do that with your mouth, it only makes me want to kiss you.”

  “I’d say you have had enough kissing,” she told him mischievously. “Your lips will fall plumb off if you persist.”

  “Come here.” He felt giddy with joy. “I’ll risk it.”

  “Eat your eggs.”

  Saucily, she sashayed to the stove. Doubtless, her knowledge that he savored every move put extra vigor in her steps. That side-to-side swish of her hips entranced him. Sarah returned with coffee in hand and slid the cup before him.

  “Eat,” she urged. “Your eggs are getting cold.”

  “I don’t care. I’ve got other things to think about.”

  Proving it, Daniel reached unerringly to her skirts. A handful of shapely female backside met his grasp. He gave a hearty squeeze, loving the way Sarah felt. Loving…her, almost. Or at least loving her as much as he would have dared. If he’d believed in such nonsense.

  Today, he felt too lighthearted to worry over it.

  She squealed. “Daniel!”

  “What? Are you tender? Did I hurt you?”

  “No.” A blush colored her cheeks. “It’s just that I thought…with these wild curls in my hair…”

  He perused them, noticing her hairstyle for the first time. Truthfully, the top of her head was not the first place his attention had gone this morning. Studying her now, Daniel saw that tendrils of corkscrew hair sprang all around her head, barely contained by her chignon.

  “You look…vivacious,” he said.

  “I look crazy!” she fretted. “Absolutely ridiculous. I knew I should have taken time to remove those rag curlers last night! Now the curls are set and won’t cooperate.”

  Ineffectually, Sarah shoved a coil in position.

  “You were distracted last night.” He said it soothingly. Or perhaps wolfishly, with fond memories of those “distractions” she spoke of. Daniel couldn’t tell for certain and couldn’t be bothered to decide. He felt exactly that carefree. “Leave your hair as it is. I like it.”

  Suddenly, she looked inspired. “I’m going to dunk my head in the washbasin! That will solve the problem for certain.”

  “Here, now.” Trying to sound stern, Daniel caught her hand in his. He cupped Sarah’s chin. “I thought we’d settled all that. You look fine to me, just as you are.”

  “But I—”

  “But nothing. Believe me. I’ll show you.”

  “You’re just being nice. Because I gave you extra eggs.”

  He frowned. Silly woman. Didn’t she know when he meant what he said?

  “You do enjoy a nicely scrambled egg,” she persisted.

  “I enjoy you,” he said deliberately. Before Sarah could get away, Daniel pulled her onto his lap. The press of her body against him made him feel contented…nigh foolish with the aftereffects of last night.

  He gave her a resounding kiss, one meant to give proof to his words. He found himself gazing into her lovely eyes and then giving her another kiss…just because he wanted to.

  “No more nonsense. Stay and eat breakfast with me.”

  “Oh, Daniel.” She caressed his face, her freckled features softening as she looked at him. “You really are a different man today.”

  He didn’t know what that meant. But he didn’t care overmuch, either. Everything was fine. Better than fine, now that Sarah had stopped resisting him. Now that he’d succeeded in seducing them both.

  “I’m a sore man,” he teased, wincing as he wriggled in his chair. “I swear, you’ve done me in, wife.”

  Sarah gasped and gave him a playful swat. Chuckling, Daniel kissed her again in retribution. Before he knew it, though, that kiss deepened. It became something more compelling by far, and much more necessary. With abandon, he delved his hands in her crazy woman’s hair and moaned his enjoyment.

  He should have been incapacitated, Daniel knew. Unable to rise to the occasion or, at the least, unwilling to subject himself to any more romantic shenanigans. But he wasn’t. This sensation of needing, of wanting, of caring was the most remarkable thing. He enjoyed it immensely.

  It was true that parts of him, lately unused, now felt eagerly used near to chafing. But somehow, Sarah inspired him. He wanted to see her smile. If the cost of that was a tender and overworked manhood, he would gladly pay it.

  “Do me in again,” he growled, filling his palms with her soft hips and wads of skirts. “Again and again and ag—”

  “You’re insatiable!” She wrapped her arms around his neck, not seeming the least bothered by that fact. “A person would think you’d been denied affection for years.”

  “I have.” He said it soberly, only then realizing the truth of it. “Only I didn’t know it.”

  Sarah smiled. “Hah. After all those women who chased you? Who you chased back? Pshaw. You’ve had more than your share of everything.”

  “I did not have you. Today that’s all that matters.”

  “Oh.” Her eyes turned misty. “Daniel, I—”

  “That, and these eggs.” Grinning, he released her. He eagerly picked up his fork. “I find I’m starving. Did you say there are sausages, too?”

  He tried a bite, groaning his delight. Not only was Sarah a perfect wife, a helpmeet, a lover and a friend, she was also a cook beyond compare. Daniel caught her watching him with a wifely interest and patted the chair beside his. He winked.

  “You’d better join me soon. Else everything will be gone.”

  By the time Eli joined them for his walk to school, the plates were scraped clean, the forks were abandoned and Daniel had a lapful of Sarah again. He kissed her soundly, laughingly aware of Eli’s little-boy protests.

  “Stop those retching sounds, boy,” he commanded. “Someday you might not mind so much, when you have a lady of your ow
n.”

  “I’d rather eat dirt,” Eli told him.

  They all gathered their hats and coats and headed off to their days, Sarah and Eli tromping toward the schoolhouse and Daniel striding toward the smithy. He’d swear that he whistled a happy tune the whole way.

  “I mean it, Grace,” Sarah told her sister at lunchtime, where they sat sharing a noontime meal at her schoolhouse desk. “Everything is wonderful now. Even better than I’d imagined.”

  “Better than you’d imagined? Now that’s saying something.”

  “Yes, it is.” Blithely, Sarah plucked a bite of ham from her sandwich. It tasted as delicious as anything she’d ever eaten. In fact, everything around her seemed superlatively good. “See? Even your dour moods can’t bring me low today. That is how happy I am.”

  Grace gave her a suspicious look. “Have you been sampling patent remedies again? Tippling from Daniel’s whiskey?”

  “No.” She gazed at her students, making sure they behaved. Outside, the mild sunshine turned the snowy landscape crystalline and left frost melting on the windowpane. “But Daniel has come around, and he is all I ever wanted.”

  “You want your schoolwork, too! Don’t you?”

  “Of course. I feel a burst of pride and accomplishment every time I walk in the door here. Every time I greet my students or see one of them succeed.” Sarah knew it was true and relished every minute. “But don’t you see? Now I have so much more! A husband who loves me, a warm household of my own, even a little boy who feels nearly my own son.” Sarah gave Eli a fond look. “It’s more than I ever dreamed of.”

  “Dreams can’t be trusted, Sarah.” An unaccountably solemn look crossed her sister’s face. Grace ducked her head, brushing bread crumbs from her skirts. “Even you know that.”

  Astonished—and more than a little concerned—Sarah regarded her sister. “Of course they can. Why would you say such a thing?”

  “I only mean that you should watch yourself. Still. A man like Daniel can’t be trusted.”

  “A man like—” Gawking, Sarah broke off. Then the truth of the situation struck her. “You mean a man like Jack Murphy can’t be trusted, don’t you? Grace…” She nudged her sister with her shoulder, hoping to jolly her out of her bad humor. “Come along. Have out with it! Why don’t you simply tell him how you feel? Heaven knows you’re forthright enough about everything else.”

  “Tell him how I feel?” A snort. “I don’t know what you mean.”

  But as Grace repacked the remnants of her boxed lunch, her fingers trembled the tiniest telltale bit. And as she arranged everything just so, her usual composure seemed shaken. For a person as meticulous as Grace ordinarily was—with her tucked-in shirtwaist, her no-nonsense chignon and her laced shoes meant for bicycling—those signs were alarming.

  “I don’t even approve of Jack Murphy,” she insisted. “He is too frivolous by far, and all the more eager to spread that frivolity around, too. Dance-hall ladies, indeed. And an acting troupe is coming through, too! Did you know, he even has a marked fondness for practical jokes?”

  “Hmm. Were you a victim of one?”

  Grace looked shocked. “He promised he wouldn’t—!” She stopped herself. “The man is a menace, plain and simple.”

  Sarah hid a smile. She wondered mightily which of the saloonkeeper’s jests had snared her sister. She would have loved to have been a fly on the wall during that occasion.

  “It might do you good to take life less seriously.”

  “Hah! Now you sound like him.”

  “It’s true. Besides, you might find that you enjoy frivolity. You never know what you’re capable of until you love someone.”

  “Apparently you were capable of going on strike,” Grace pointed out. “Or have you forgotten that?”

  “That was a mistake.” Dreamily, Sarah hugged herself. “Go on, Grace. Try something new, why don’t you? You just might surprise yourself.”

  “I do have a new women’s suffrage campaign about to begin.” Grace seemed as ridiculously cheered by the notion as only she could have been. “Also, my ladies’ bicycling club has a jaunt planned for spring, and I’m considering a temperance rally for after New Year’s Day. Let Jack Murphy make a joke of that!”

  Sarah feared he just might. That was simply how contrary men could be. “Well, I wish you luck with all of it. As for my part, now that my home life is settled, I have grand plans for the schoolroom. I wonder…do you think a class play might fare well?”

  Grace seemed interested. “What did you have in mind?”

  “Oh, I don’t know. Hmm.” Sarah slapped on a sham-innocent look. “The Taming of the Shrew, perhaps?”

  Another snort. Her sister stood. “That’s one piece of work that should be well forgotten about. Hah! As though a man might actually need to tame a woman. The very notion is preposterous.”

  Sarah widened her eyes, nodding complacently.

  But as Grace hurried into her cloak and headed out of doors with her head held high—doubtless preparing to do battle with one particularly charming, ne’er-do-well Irish saloonkeeper yet again—Sarah still had her doubts.

  There might be more to the state of affairs between her sister and Jack Murphy than met the eye. And still more there…maybe much more…than Grace was ready to admit.

  For days after that, Sarah was kept busy with her students, her husband, Eli and the rapidly approaching holidays. All of Morrow Creek bustled with anticipation, even through a fresh snowfall and a surprising cold snap. The mountain air fairly tingled with crispness, and the ponderosa pines stood blanketed with white. The mercantile and apothecary were packed with items newly arrived on the train, and more than one set of hands was busy with sewing or knitting or creating something special for loved ones.

  In the Crabtree household, Christmas had always been a close-knit time, full of love and surprises. Sarah felt determined to make sure the same was true of her small family’s holiday. They might have come together in an untraditional way, but, Sarah reasoned, that only made their closeness now all the more extraordinary…and all the more precious, too.

  By lamplight, long after Eli had been tucked safely abed, she held up a toy soldier. Its body was fashioned of tin, forged and polished by Daniel’s skilled hands. Sarah’s job was to paint on a face and hair and tiny clothing. They’d stayed awake many a late night recently, trying to finish the set in time to surprise Eli with it on Christmas morning.

  “This one is too big.” She showed it to Daniel. “See? His feet are tremendous and his head is oversize, too.”

  Her husband glanced up from the rest of the toy regiment. He’d done as much “arranging” of them as she had of painting, Sarah would wager. But his unabashed playfulness only made him seem more appealing to her. She pretended to go along with his claims of “testing” the soldiers and didn’t make so much as a peep whenever Daniel accidentally let slip a command in a tellingly wee soldierly voice.

  “It’s fine.” He looked abashed to have been caught with two soldiers in—apparently—midbattle. He peered at the soldier she held, then nodded. “There has to be one soldier who’s bigger and stronger than all the rest.”

  His knowledgeable tone didn’t fool her. “They should all be the same,” Sarah insisted. “That’s what’s fair. That’s what makes them a matched set.”

  He regarded her with amused patience, his face aglow in the flickering light. “Every boy imagines himself the biggest and strongest. This way, Eli can be the biggest and the strongest.”

  She smiled. “Ahhh. I see.”

  “It will save him the trouble of trying to fuse two pieces together,” he said seriously. “To make one big one.”

  “Mmm.” She paused, considering the image of a tousle-haired, little-boy Daniel ferociously trying to create a big, strong soldier. Her heart felt full to overflowing with the love she felt for him. “I take it that tactic doesn’t work very well?”

  “No, it doesn’t.” He frowned, a lock of hair falling over hi
s forehead as he absentmindedly arranged both soldiers in a fighting pose. “If you heat the metal enough to fuse it, it drips in the fireplace and ruins the grate. Your papa—”

  Daniel broke off abruptly. His face colored.

  She found him more adorable than ever. “I’ll paint this soldier with the best and fanciest uniform, then.” Sarah picked up her brush and stroked on a swipe of blue. She tilted her head, pointedly not looking at her husband. “I’ll give him gorgeous brown eyes, and a big, stubborn nose, and two stuck-out ears, just like—”

  “Enough.” Making a fierce face, Daniel tugged his earlobe. “Else you’ll find yourself with coal in your stocking on Christmas Day.”

  “So long as you’re there next to it, I don’t care.”

  Sarah leaned closer and kissed him. Daniel resisted at first, but she knew his mulishly pressed-together lips were all for show. Because as soon as she held his face in her hands and whispered to him—

  “I love these ears.”

  —he kissed her back so longingly that she forgot what they were doing altogether. Heartened by this evidence that Daniel could be vulnerable, too, Sarah promised herself she would do all she could to make him feel loved. For long moments afterward, she cheered him with caresses. She kissed him heartily. She plied him with words of praise and appreciation, and by the time those stuck-out ears of his turned pink around the edges, she knew she’d succeeded.

  He cleared his throat. “If we keep this up, these will be Easter presents for Eli.”

  Sarah laughed. “Then I’d better paint on springtime uniforms instead, husband. Because I have no intention of stopping with you. Ever.”

  Those soldiers—even the markedly big, strong one—did not become Easter presents. Sarah and Daniel finished the troop a few evenings later, freeing her that Saturday to spend the day on her own. With Eli left to Daniel’s care, Sarah traversed the short distance to the Crabtree household, where she met with her mama and sisters for a spree of shopping and gift wrapping and even—with Molly’s tutelage—holiday baking.