Blackstone's Bride

by Teresa Southwick

  From that day to this all he’d been able to think about was how beautiful she was. How much he wanted her. But if he took her, he’d fail her. He couldn’t do that. Not to Abby.

  She looked up at him, then stood. “Jarrod? Are you tired?”

  “Yes,” he lied.

  “Then maybe we should try to get some sleep. You take the bed. I’ll sit up in the rocker.”

  “You’ve got circles under your eyes practically down to your—” His gaze dropped to the feminine swell of her breasts beneath the blue cotton bodice. The material hugged her, outlining the sweet curves. His palms itched to know the weight and texture of her. He swallowed, gathering the strength to talk. “I mean, you look like you’re about to drop from exhaustion.”

  “I haven’t slept very well lately. I must look awful—”

  He shook his head. “You’re pretty as a sunset, Abby. All fire and golden light.”

  Her eyes closed for a moment as she took in a shaky breath. “Jarrod, don’t. Please—”

  “I’m sorry, Abby. I didn’t intend to say it. I mean straight out like that.”

  “Don’t think I’m not flattered, because I am. It’s just that we can’t let ourselves get carried away.”

  “I have no intention of getting carried away,” he said, his voice tight with irritation. “I was just stating a fact. I think you’re pretty.”

  “Thank you,” she snapped back, echoing his tone.

  He didn’t need her to remind him that they both had a lot riding on their self-control. What fried him was that she looked so cool, so unaffected by him, when he was short of breath and hot all over. Because of her. He remembered her flash of eager innocence when he’d kissed her, and the way she’d wrapped her arms around his neck as if she never wanted to let go of him. If he kissed her now, would she go soft and clingy and weak-kneed? Was her indifference an act? If so, it was a good one. For all she seemed to care, he could have been her brother.

  “There’s no need to be irritated with me, Jarrod. This was your idea.”

  “My idea?” He crossed the distance separating them and stood close enough to smell her womanly scent, feel the heat from her body as it joined with his own and threatened to burst into flame. “It was my plan to get married, not to be cooped up inside the same four walls in this damn boardinghouse.”

  “And what about this Aunt Abby business?”

  “That wasn’t my idea either. Lily came up with that on her own.”

  “I warned you that the children would become attached to me, to us. As a couple, I mean.” She drew in a breath. “Oliver wants us to be his mother and father. Lily wants me to be her aunt by marriage. This was a bad idea. I never should have agreed.”

  “You can back out any time. But if you do, you might as well hand the kids over to Donovan.”

  “You know I don’t want that.” She turned away from him. “I just didn’t figure on how dishonest and low-down I would feel.”

  “Just remember, Abby, the end justifies the means. We agreed this was the best way.”

  “I know, but—”

  “Buts are a waste of time. We’re married.” He sighed. “I don’t want to fight with you, Abby. Not tonight.”

  “Me either. You’re my friend. I hope you always will be. No matter what happens.”

  “Count on it.” He grinned at her.

  Abby felt the heat of that smile all the way to her toes and back. She wasn’t feeling exactly friendly at the moment. One touch and she would be in his arms.

  “Since we agree that we’re friends,” he said, “I have a proposition for you.”

  “What?”

  “We share the bed.”

  She blinked. “Share it?”

  “Sure. Why not?” A teasing note crept into his voice. “You’ve got nothing to fear from me.”

  “I didn’t think so, but—” A devilish expression lit his eyes. She knew she wasn’t going to like this.

  “I assume I’m safe from you?” he asked.

  She laughed. “Of course.”

  That was a bald-faced lie. But if he could keep away from her, she certainly would do her darnedest not to embarrass herself by throwing herself at him.

  “Then, it’s settled. We share the bed.” He pulled off his jacket and set it on the rocker in the corner. Then he unbuttoned his shirt and slid it off his broad shoulders.

  “What are you doing?” She cleared her throat. “I mean, I know what you’re doing. H-How much are you—I mean, what do you sleep in?”

  “Nothing. It’s too hot for clothes. What about you?” he asked, as cool as if they were talking about the weather.

  “A—A nightgown.” She tried to keep her voice as unconcerned as his. Except for that first slip, she thought she did a pretty good job. “I need to change,” she said, looking around to see how she could manage it and maintain her modesty. More than anything, she wished there was a dressing screen in that room.

  “I’ll turn my back,” he said, as if he could read her mind.

  “Thanks.”

  She retreated to the shadows in the corner of the room with her lawn nightgown. Facing away from him, she started unhooking the tiny buttons down the back of her dress. The ones between her shoulder blades were impossible to reach. If Lily were there, she would have had the girl help her.

  But she only had Jarrod. It was either ask him, or explain why she was sleeping in her clothes—and suffer the embarrassment when he teased her unmercifully.

  “Jarrod? Could you help me with the back of my dress? I can’t get the buttons.”

  “Sure. Come on over here, into the light.”

  She did as he asked and moved closer to the lantern on the dresser, presenting her back to him. As he worked, the backs of his fingers grazed her skin, sending sparks skittering through her. Her breathing quickened.

  “There,” he said. “All done.”

  “Thank you,” she answered, clutching the front of her dress to the cotton chemise covering her breasts.

  He didn’t move away. He was so close, his breath stirred her hair. Abby’s heart hammered in her chest. If she had a lick of sense, she would turn to him, throw her arms around him, and press her mouth to his. She would pour all the yearning stored up inside her into the kiss. She would do everything she could to make him care about her the way she did about him, and be a wife to him in every sense of the word.

  In the end, she couldn’t. She was afraid. Of him, of herself, but mostly of losing the dream she’d held on to for so long.

  As she started to move back to her shadowed corner, Jarrod gripped her upper arms. Abby closed her eyes for a moment, drawing in a shuddering breath. He pulled her back against his chest, and the sprinkling of hair tickled the bare skin between her shoulder blades.

  “Abby,” he said in a hoarse whisper. He rubbed his cheek against her hair, then with one hand pulled out the pins until the heavy strands fell in waves around her face and down her arms. “I’m sorry, Abby. I couldn’t help it. If I didn’t touch you, I’d—”

  She turned in his arms and cupped his face, loving the way the day’s growth of beard was rough against her palms. He opened his mouth to say something, and she silenced him with the touch of her finger to his lips.

  “Don’t,” she whispered. “Let’s not think. I can’t. Not now.”

  His eyes filled with passion as he slowly nodded and lowered his mouth to hers. That first soft touch released something wild and primitive inside her. In seconds her breathing turned rapid and harsh. Blood pulsed through her veins and raced to every part of her, heating her skin.

  Jarrod sat on the bed and pulled her between the vee of his legs. The bodice of her dress pooled at her waist. He rested his hands on her ribs, brushing his thumbs across her nipples, which were taut through the thin cotton of her chemise. The exquisite sensation bolted clear to her toes. An appreciative moan slipped from her throat.

  “Did you like that, Abby?”

  “Yes.” The one word was more of
a satisfied sigh than anything else.

  He reached up and untied the three blue satin ribbons between her breasts, then pushed aside the material until her skin was bared to him. “I knew you would be beautiful. I didn’t know how beautiful.”

  “Really?” His compliment was too lovely to believe.

  His gaze captured hers. “Really. Inside and out, Abby, you are the prettiest sight I have ever seen.”

  She sighed, reassured by his words as she let her eyes slide closed. When he captured the peak of her breast in his mouth, she gasped at the powerful pleasure that rocked through her. “Oh, Jarrod, I’ve never felt anything so wonderful.”

  He moved to her other breast and lavished attention on it. She threaded her fingers through the thickness of his hair, holding him to her as she arched into his touch. Between her legs, a strange tightening started. Her body trembled as tension built within her. This was just the beginning. She sensed it; she craved more. Leaning back, she opened her eyes and stared into his, dark with desire.

  “Show me, Jarrod. I want to know everything.”

  He sucked in a breath. “Are you sure, Abby? There’s no going back.”

  “I know. I’m sure.”

  Jarrod looped an arm around her waist and swept her onto the bed beside him. He brushed a hand down her body, pushing her clothing along with it. Abby lifted her hips, helping, pulling frantically at the material, eager to free herself to him. When she was naked, his gaze moved over her, caressing her as his hands had done just moments before.

  He cupped her breast, gently. “I thought you were lovely when you came down the stairs at Reverend Taylor’s. That was nothing compared to how beautiful you look now.”

  His fingers traveled over her belly, teasing and arousing as they went. With tender slowness he eased her legs apart and curved his palm over the mound of her womanhood.

  “Oh, Jarrod—” She stopped and her body went still as he slipped a finger into her most feminine place. Pleasure rippled through her.

  “Abby?”

  “Don’t stop, Jarrod.”

  More than anyone else she trusted him. His thumb brushed over the sensitive nub at the top of her womanhood. It was as if lightning crackled through her. He began to move his hand faster, rubbing, caressing, loving.

  Almost of their own accord, her hips began to move in a rhythm that his hand set. She pressed herself into his touch, searching for—something. Tightness grew within her. When she thought she couldn’t stand one more second of his tender torture, radiance exploded behind her closed eyes. Her body trembled with wave after wave of pleasure. She felt as if she had splintered into a thousand pieces of light, then come back together.

  When the exquisite feeling subsided, she opened her eyes and looked at him. His gaze held supreme male satisfaction at her shattering experience. There was also something strained about him, a tightness around his mouth.

  With his body pressed tightly to her, she felt the rigid length of his arousal against her thigh. He needed release too.

  “What about you, Jarrod? There’s more. Isn’t there?”

  He nodded as he shifted uncomfortably on the mattress beside her. “There’s more.”

  “Show me. Let me give something back to you. That was the most”—she stopped, searching for a word grand enough to describe the sensation he’d given her—”incredible, extraordinary, unbelievable feeling I’ve ever known.”

  He shook his head. “That was my gift to you, Abby. It’s all I can give you.”

  “No—”

  He touched a finger to her lips. “Yes. I won’t break my promise. As long as we don’t consummate this marriage, we can have it annulled. That’s what you want, isn’t it? To be free, so you can leave?”

  Was it? She couldn’t think straight anymore. Not when she was in his arms like this. The thought of leaving him sat like a stone on her heart.

  But he was right. She needed to be free. As much as she wanted to ignore that fact, she couldn’t. Taking a deep breath, she looked at him.

  Her chest swelled with gratitude at his unselfishness. Pain hovered around the edges, but she pushed it away. She wouldn’t think about it now. Leaning on her elbow, she hovered over him and placed a light kiss on his lips.

  “Thank you, Jarrod.”

  16

  “Wish ya didn’t have to go off so soon, Jarrod.” Hettie Schafer put a hand to her forehead, shielding her eyes from the early morning sun that was just peeking up over the boardinghouse roof.

  “Got to get back to the ranch,” Jarrod said, trying to tamp down his irritation with the woman. He knew her gift of a wedding night had been given out of kindness, but a kick in the head would have been more charitable than being alone with Abby. He felt about ready to explode even if someone only looked at him cross-eyed.

  He was waiting for Abby to round up the kids so they could head back to the ranch. Couldn’t be too soon for him. Another night in the same room with her would probably do him in.

  He heard bootsteps on the boardwalk behind him. When Rafe Donovan stepped down into the dirt street beside him, Jarrod’s morning went from godawful to downright stinking.

  “What do you want, Donovan?”

  Hettie started to say something, and Jarrod held up his hand to silence her.

  Donovan scratched his chin thoughtfully. “Hear tell congratulations are in order. Everyone in town is talkin’ about how you married that pretty little redhead.”

  “So?”

  “Funny that no one told me you weren’t hitched when I took her for your wife.”

  Jarrod shrugged. “Your mistake. What of it?”

  “It ‘pears to me that you got married pretty sudden like. Could be you think the judge’ll favor you because of it?”

  Hettie put her hands on her hips. “Folks who live in Hollister know Jarrod and Abby have been sweet on each other for a long time. They were bound to get married sooner or later.”

  “Maybe it happened sooner so’s you’d get the edge on me.”

  Hettie pointed at him. “That’s a lie. Jarrod and Abby got married because they’re in love. I’m prepared to swear to that in a court of law, and so will everyone else in this town.”

  Jarrod was grateful for her support. But he was afraid if she kept it up, she would confirm what Donovan already suspected.

  He turned to the small woman and bent low to kiss her cheek. “Thanks for everything, Hettie. You go on inside. You’ve got customers to see to.”

  “But—”

  He gestured toward her front door. “Go on, now. I’ll take care of this.”

  She reluctantly agreed and went to the door of the restaurant. After shooting Donovan a hostile look, she disappeared inside.

  “It won’t work, Blackstone.”

  “What?”

  “This phony weddin’ to get the kids.”

  “A couple is a damn sight better bet to make a home for them than a bachelor they never laid eyes on before.”

  “I talked to that lawyer fella here in town. He says the judge will look at custody of those kids like property. A man owns everything.”

  Jarrod’s eyes narrowed. “What are you getting at?”

  “I’ve got a will signed by my brother and duly witnessed. You got a letter from Sally. Married or not, the judge will see my side as the stronger.”

  “Like hell he will, Donovan. There’s more at stake than the law. Like what those kids want. Where they want to stay. Where they’ll be happy.”

  “It’s like I told you, they’re just kids. They need someone to tell ‘em what to do.”

  “I don’t care what that two-bit lawyer said. You won’t be the one calling the shots. Count on it.”

  Donovan pulled his hat down on his head. “We’ll just have to wait and see what the judge says. Won’t we, Blackstone?”

  “I reckon we will, Donovan.”

  The man started to walk away, then turned back, his blue eyes narrowed. “By the way, I just came from the sheriff’s office.�
��

  “Glad to hear it. Too bad Zach didn’t talk you into dropping your claim.”

  “He wanted me to know the circuit judge is due in two weeks.”

  Abby saw Rafe Donovan nod to Jarrod, then walk away. She briefly wondered what they had talked about, but she had other things on her mind.

  She stopped by the wagon and looked up at Jarrod. “Have you seen Oliver?”

  He frowned. “Isn’t he at Bea’s with the other kids?”

  “No. Bea put him to bed, but he wasn’t there this morning. All his things are gone.” She lifted her chin in the direction Donovan had taken. “I saw you with Donovan. Do you think he might have Oliver?”

  “I didn’t get that feeling.” He glanced over his shoulder, an angry scowl twisting his features. “He had other things on his mind.”

  Abby decided she would ask him about that later. Right now, she was going from concerned to frantic about Oliver.

  “Where do you suppose he could be? He’s so little, Jarrod. What if—”

  “Don’t go borrowin’ trouble. He’ll turn up.” He tugged her against him and rubbed her back reassuringly.

  She wanted to stay there forever. But she pulled out of his arms. “I can’t wait. I’ll go crazy if I don’t look for him.”

  “Then start at the Shemanskis.”

  “But he was told not to go there. Matt’s sick.”

  “Oliver doesn’t care. He was sure disappointed that he had to stay at Bea’s.”

  “But Annie would have sent him packing,” Abby said.

  “If she knew he was there,” he answered.

  “Let’s go look.”

  They hurried down Main Street toward the mercantile, where the Shemanskis lived above their store. A staircase in the back led up to the rooms. When Abby knocked on the door, Annie quickly answered it, holding a year-old-baby on her hip.

  The woman was taller than Abby, with hazel eyes and brown hair pulled away from her face and into a bun at her nape. “I’m so glad to see you.”

  “Is Oliver here?” Abby asked.

  Annie nodded. “I just discovered him. Might not have noticed except my Sarah didn’t have a place to sit at the breakfast table.”