Once the shacks were behind, he sat up straight. She didn’t think it unusual that he kept a rifle at his feet. When she left the train in Dillon, she’d traveled inside the stage. She was bounced around so much she had no chance to look out the window. Trace continually looked around, alert to anything out of the ordinary. She had little idea what that would be, as almost everything looked strange to her. After leaving the crowded East, the train passed through wide empty spaces. All she remembered of Dillon and Bannack City were filthy streets full of men swearing and hollering. There might be manure on the dusty streets of Tanner’s Ford but the air was cleaner than her home city, the Bride Train’s hard seats or any place in between. She tilted her head back and let the sun kiss her face. Whatever happened later, she’d enjoy her life today.
She recognized most of the birds singing and some of the wildflowers they passed. She relaxed, waving away the occasional insect that buzzed near. Now and then Trace’s thigh brushed against hers as the wagon rattled along.
“Oh, my,” said Beth after a while. She turned her head and blinked at her husband. After a moment Trace looked down at her, one eyebrow raised.
“Something wrong?”
Beth shook her head. “No. It’s just that…I’m happy.” She smiled up at him. “I wondered what it would feel like. Now I know.”
Trace snorted like a horse and shook his head. After a moment he checked their back trail, ignoring her. Beth didn’t care. She settled herself on the hard bench and watched her new world go by. An eagle soared high above. Hunting a mate, or dinner?
“How come you say you’re happy now and not last night? You sure enjoyed that.”
Familiar heat surged up Beth’s chest to her face. She groaned when he chuckled. If she browned her face in the sun, would he know when she blushed?
“Last night in the hotel was beyond anything I could even have dreamed,” she said quietly.
“There’s more to learn and enjoy, Mrs. Elliott. Lots more.”
“I’m not talking about that! Well, not just that.” She waited until he settled again. “Last night, while I soaked in a hot tub, you went out and picked flowers for me. You bought me this beautiful dress.” She spread her hands over her legs, caressing the fabric. “No one ever thought of me unless they wanted something. But you did, even before eating or bathing. It’s been years since I dreamed about someone caring for me.” She shook her head. “I thought no one who was that good to me, could be real.”
“Sweetheart, soon’s we get on Elliott land. I’ll prove how real I am.”
He was quiet as he guided the wagon around a rock outcrop. The butterflies that rose to flutter in her stomach at his words, settled once more.
“I know nothing about your family except they treated you like a servant or worse. But you’re an Elliott now and my wife. If there’s something bothering you, then it affects me.”
Her heart, already touched by his thoughtfulness, softened. Though she’d done so much for him while they were children, even her brother Timothy put his own needs first. When he helped her escape from her locked room while everyone was out at a soiree, she thought he’d saved her from an abusive marriage to Abraham Carter to help her. Only later did she find out the debt her father owed Carter was from illegal activity. Timothy planned to take over the family bank. Carter had links to crime, links that her brother did not want. While Timothy might be fond of her, he’d saved her for his own reasons, not hers. Though he’d given her money to sew into her dress, it was only a portion of what was rightfully hers.
Could she let down her guard with the near-stranger sitting beside her? Had he done those things to care for her or for his own reasons? She thought he had no money but he bought her a dress and bonnet. That could be to show off his new his wife, but no one but she and Sophie would have known about the flowers. He had bought the lovely blue velvet for her but said she must make it so he could enjoy her body.
Purposely testing for a reaction, she curled her arm around his. He immediately sat up straight, his entire body stiffening. After a moment, he lifted both arms and lightly tapped the horses. The movement forced her to release him. He coughed and turned away. She waited, biting her lip and body tense, until he spoke.
“What I mean is,” he said. He cleared his throat and hunched over, staring between the horses. “If you’re all bothered about something, you might get sick. Now that I got me a wife, I want her in good shape. I expect a decent supper on the table when I get home and a willing woman in my bed. That’s why a man takes on a wife. Good food, a tidy home, and a warm bed.”
Of course. He wanted to take care of her because otherwise he might be inconvenienced. Just like her brother. How silly of her to think otherwise. When Sophie handed her the picnic basket that morning, she’d warned the honeymoon would be over when they arrived home. There was too much hard work for everyone, and no time for foolishness, she’d said to Beth.
So Beth kept her head high and fought back girlish tears as the wagon rumbled along. At least she had wonderful memories of last night and this morning. That was something no one could ever take away from her. She inhaled the warm, fragrant air. When she exhaled, she sent her foolishness with it.
Her husband was a man just like any other. Women had dreams while men had plans. Plans were real while dreams floated away with the morning mist. Forget that he wants you for a beddable servant. Think what you’d be doing if Big Joe married you last night. She’d be dead. One way or the other, by his brutal fists or her own hand.
With that perspective, life was good. Satisfaction, Miss Primula said, was realizing one was content with what one had. She had a decent husband, a home, a respected place in society, and, soon she hoped, children to love. The sun was shining and she was warm and dry. She could be happy with that.
They rode on for another hour, saying nothing. As Trace slowly relaxed, so did she. Neither of them returned to the way they were before he stated what he wanted out of her. If she couldn’t have his heart and soul, she could have the rest of him.
Other men took what they wanted from a woman, then tossed her aside. When Trace gave her pleasure before his own, it showed he cared about her. She’d never known of the joy he gave her body. That alone was more than enough to base a marriage on. Already, she craved his touch.
His leg bumped against hers as the wagon rocked. The touch sparked the slow fuse inside her. She straightened up on the hard seat and pushed her shoulders back as if stretching. Trace glanced down at her breasts. Only one layer of thin fabric covered her skin. It rasped against her nipples, tightening the buds. A quick glance down proved his need swelled as well.
He didn’t have to love her to make love to her. Something they both enjoyed. Years of haggling at the farm taught her honey made a better lure than vinegar. If he wanted to be the big man ordering her around, then she’d play her part to get what she wanted.
“Thank you for the velvet. It’s a lovely bride present,” she said. Once more she flexed her back as if she had an itch between her shoulder blades. It caught his eye.
“That’s no present. It’s just for because. I ordered your present. Won’t be in for a while.”
He lifted an eyebrow when he turned to her. She saw the fire in his dark eyes, barely banked though they’d left their bed only a few hours before.
“May I ask what it is?”
“I ordered one of those big copper bathtubs. Ma had one, but I gave it to Gillis MacDougal when he and Pru got hitched. Never thought we’d have a woman to need it.”
“But they’re so dear. I can have sponge baths in front of the stove when your brothers are somewhere else—”
He cleared his throat. She shut her mouth with a snap.
“It’s also for me. Saturday nights I’m going to wash every inch of you. Slowly.” He nodded. “So don’t go thinking it’s anything special.”
She looked out at the scenery, remembering how he’d washed, dried, then kissed her that morning. He’d branded her b
reasts, belly, and thighs with the tip of himself before plunging deep and filling her with his seed. Seed that one day, God be willing, would bring her children to love.
When the horses started up a long stretch, straining to pull, she decided it was safe to bring up a subject that would not make him happy.
“There’s something I have to tell you.”
“You wore drawers under your dress? That’s a spanking offence, Mrs. Elliott.”
She flushed, both at the idea that she’d disobey his direct order on the first day of their marriage and his threat. She had no idea why the thought of a spanking had her hot and bothered and didn’t want to think about it.
“It’s important,” she said. He shrugged. “You spent a lot of money this morning.”
“I bought what my wife needs to do her job.”
“Before I left home I sewed twenty-dollar gold coins into my bodice. Two of them.”
He shot her a look before staring ahead again. She twisted her hands, unsure of his reaction. By law, it was his money now. She waited but he didn’t speak.
“I want to help. The forty dollars is just a down payment. My brother Timothy said when I married, he’d send the money my grandmother left me. I don’t know how much it is, but—”
“Keep it. Elliotts don’t need money from a woman.”
“You’re too proud to accept help from your wife?”
“Damn straight!”
“Well, listen up, mister. I’m an Elliott now. And this Elliott wants to become part of your life with more than her body.” Her voice wavered, but she continued. “You can buy a woman at Miss Lily’s Parlor any time. You can hire someone else to cook and clean.”
He hunched his shoulders, staring straight ahead.
“I need to know I’m more than a body to be used for work and your pleasure. The ranch you work on is my life now, and I want to be part of it. Big or small, it doesn’t matter. Maybe we can buy enough boards to add on a bedroom for us, or for our children, if we’re blessed.”
It was too late to change anything. She was married to him until one of them died. But their whole life would be based on his reaction. Did he want her for herself, Elizabeth Katherine James Elliott, for everything she could give him? Or did he want Mrs. Trace Elliott, a wife who met his daily needs?
Her father threw her out of her home, forcing her to care for his parents’ broken-down farm. Then he’d tried to sell her as a virginal wife to advance his business. That life was over. She needed to belong to this one. To know she owned a part of her home, however small.
The uneasy silence continued. The horses strained, stretching their necks to pull up the slope. Trace glowered so much she didn’t offer to get out and walk to lighten their burden. Instead she looked at the unfamiliar plants, wondering what uses they could be put to. Which added flavor to food and which would give her stubborn husband the trots if dropped in his stew bowl?
“You’re not just a body to be used,” he finally growled. “You’re my wife.” He didn’t look at her.
“And what does a wife have to offer, other than her body? Men don’t care if a woman has a brain or any learning. They want her for chores, bedding, and heirs.”
“What I want from you, most women would refuse.” He finally looked at her but his hat shaded his face.
“You said you wanted me to think.” He nodded, warily. “I think you should let me buy a part of my home.”
She held tight to the buckboard as they crossed a stream, the water high from the spring melt. They crested the hill. He directed the horses under a broad cottonwood tree by the water and slowed the horses to a stop.
She waited, still and unmoving, until he sighed. Heavily.
“We don’t need the gold.” He sighed again. “I’ll talk it over with the boys. When Ben comes, he can write up a paper to give you part ownership of the Rocking E like the rest of us.”
“Ownership?”
“We work darn hard, but the Rocking E belongs to us. No banker or foreman tells us what to do.”
“I wondered how you could buy all the things in the wagon.”
She pressed her hand to her pounding heart. He offered far more than she’d ever expected. A real home. If her name was on the deed and anything happened to him, she could not be kicked off even if his brothers hated her. Despite his comments, perhaps he did care for her, but was afraid to show it. Her body, tingling from his nearness, heated even more. Someday he might learn to care about her as a person. For now, she could enjoy his body.
“Will that suit, Kate?”
The sarcastic way he used the name set fire to her.
“Kate?” Now that the wagon had stopped she stood up to gain the advantage. “You think I’m being a shrew by offering my money? I can do a lot worse, Mr. Trace Elliott.”
His lip twitched, just a bit, but she’d learned to read his body language enough to see he’d relaxed from a few minutes ago.
“‘Why there’s a wench. Come on, and kiss me, Kate,’” he quoted.
She squeaked when he grabbed her waist and hauled her onto his lap. He pulled off her new pink bonnet and tossed it into the wagon. He slid his hands through her hair, pulling out her pins and undoing her careful work. When her hair floated in the breeze, his eyes burned into hers as his nostrils flared. Her nipples pebbled, knowing what he wanted.
“Conclusion of act five, scene two. ‘Come, Kate. We’ll to bed.’” He looked around. “In this case, ‘we’ll to wagon.’”
Chapter Seven
“What if someone sees us?”
Trace’s luscious new wife stood on the grass beside the wagon, staring up at him. She licked her lips, and he held back a moan. That tongue, though untutored, already drove him wild when she sucked him dry. The woman grew on him like a rash, taking over more of his life every minute. He’d almost lost it when she said he couldn’t be real because he treated her as if she mattered.
Imagine him, Trace Elliott, wanting to hug a woman because she was more alone in the world than he was. She said no one cared about her. Worse, she’d stated it as a fact rather than a complaint. He’d almost let her into his heart before he realized the danger.
She was his wife. He’d protect and provide for her. She would serve his needs, in bed and out, as well as those of the twins. Between them they’d raise their children on the Rocking E. They had a partnership with intriguing benefits. And he wanted some right now.
“Mr. Elliott?”
Her golden hair rippled in the light breeze. She stood on Rocking E grass, waiting for him. When she screamed his name on Elliott land, she would belong to them fully. Her joy would echo off the mountains around them. Then he’d take her home.
Soon, every inch of her, inside and out, would be his. Only then would he share her.
She bit her lip and frowned as she stared at him. Was she really nervous about baring her entire body to the sun? Or did she only need his encouragement to give in to her wanton streak.
As soon as they passed the shacks outside Tanner’s Ford, she’d removed her coat. He gave her a few moments to settle before insisting she undo her shirt collar. The curve of creamy flesh drew his eye constantly, jiggling with every step the horses took.
He was a saint for waiting until now to haul her into his arms.
He drew his finger between the swell of her breasts. He licked her sweat off his finger, sucking it as she had his cock that morning. She inhaled, nipples already hard for him.
“Anyone could see us.”
“No one can see you here,” he replied.
Her tight shoulders relaxed.
“Other than Simon or Jack.”
“What?”
“Sy might be scouting a bee tree up there.” Trace pointed to the mountains before them. “The man has a sweet tooth. Jack’s likely hunting the other side of the ridge.” He turned back to Beth. “If Sy’s up there, he’ll have his spyglass out.”
Beth interlaced her fingers across her middle. He’d easily learned ho
w to tell her arousal, but there was something else going on. She’d jumped to her feet, face red, as soon as Luke left their table. Had she heard his comment? She’d been twitchy since they left town.
“Something you want to say?” he asked.
She nibbled her lip, looking down. Her fingers were clenched so tight they were white.
“What did Mr. Frost mean about teaching me to share?”
“Heard that, huh?”
He winced when she nodded, still not looking at him. He gathered her in his arms. She resisted at first but he held her tight until she gave in. Her heart pounded against his chest.
“You know I live with two of my brothers?” He felt her nod against his chest. “Since Ma and Pa died and the MacDougals took the four youngest away to Texas, all we had was each other. We shared everything, work, food and shelter, and managed to stay alive. All along, each of us hoped that some day one of us would marry and keep the Elliott name alive here in Montana Territory.”
He kissed the top of her golden head. She trembled but didn’t pull away.
“I married you. A strong, determined woman full of passion.” He ran his fingers over the outer curve of her breast. A hard nipple rose, pressing against his chest.
“I won’t force you to do anything you really don’t want to do, Beth. But Simon and Jack have needs, just like me.” He waited a few moments for her to think it over. She didn’t move. Her pounding heart didn’t slow down, either. He didn’t think she was ready to bolt, so he relaxed his hold a mite.
“I want you. Here and now. If Sy is watching, he wants you too.” He cupped her swollen breast. He heard the quiet hitch in her throat, the one that meant she wanted more.
“Don’t think about what might happen, Beth. Think about how good you feel when I touch you.” He caught her nipple between his fingers. When he squeezed, she whimpered.
“Maybe Sy saw the wagon dust. He hauls out his spyglass and sees me holding a beautiful woman. He wonders if you’re a mirage or the daydream of a man who’s gone without a woman for six months. Does it make you hot, thinking my brother watches you, wishing he was the one touching you?” She pressed her face against his shirt making a hot circle from her breath.
Barefoot Bride for Three Page 9