Sam had caused her clumsiness, she admitted to herself, swishing the rag around none-too-gently inside the glass. And he'd brought it on again just now, sitting there at the table with Chrissy, reading her a story and raising his voice in a growl when he imitated the bear in the book. His voice reminded her starkly of his presence and how soon Chrissy would be sent to bed, leaving her alone with Sam. He would demand her decision tonight.
Shoot, he could have demanded it the day after he told her she had to make it. She was just stubborn enough, though, to make him wait until the last minute. She would take no chance on losing Chrissy, even if it meant spending the rest of her life tied to Sam Butler.
What would Christine think, she wondered. She recalled Christine telling her the night of their long talk that Sam seemed better suited to Polly than her. Polly had laughed herself silly at that comment, but at least it had lightened their somber mood. What could Christine have been thinking to make a remark like that?
Sure, Sam was probably even more handsome than his brother, if you liked those sort of rugged good looks. His eyes were a deep, velvet brown rather than the more cinnamon of Ron's. His hair was thicker, and slightly more wavy. Sam's shoulders were broader, and though she thought she'd kept herself completely aloof from him the last three days, she realized she had detected his stomach was already firmer. Who could help noticing, she rationalized, with those form-fitting shirts he wore and the tight denims he'd brought back after his trip to town and now worked in.
She stiffened when she heard Sam say, "It's bedtime now, sweetheart. Want me or your Aunt Polly to tuck you in?"
"You, please," Chrissy replied around a yawn. "Auntie did it last night. But...." After a brief hesitation, Chrissy said, "Maybe you both could do it. That would be awful nice."
"Uh...sure, if that would make you happy," Sam said.
Polly heaved a sigh and picked up the dish towel to dry her hands. Sam had sure as heck gotten over his uneasiness with his niece. She admitted to a tiny bit of jealousy, but it would make life easier for all of them. If Sam had to be the man in Chrissy's life, at least it would be nice for them to have a warm, loving relationship.
Pasting a bright smile on her face, Polly threw her dish towel on the counter and turned around. "I'm ready, if you two are. I can let the pans soak a minute and do them when I come back."
Chrissy slid from Sam's lap and skipped out of the kitchen, Sam close behind her. Polly followed more slowly, but it only took her a few steps to reach Chrissy's bedroom — too few steps. Sam stepped aside at the door and allowed her to enter. Then he leaned against the jamb, his gaze on Chrissy, who knelt beside the bed.
"I know I already said thank You a couple times," Chrissy began. "But I really mean it — at least so far. I was just sorta wondering, though, if this is all of it — the help, I mean. I mean, there was that happy part, too, and I don't think that's happened yet."
Suddenly Chrissy glanced up at Polly and Sam, then bent her head a little more and whispered over her hands. Being closer, Polly caught a word now and then. Something about a dolly...or did she say Polly? And she made out the word crying at one point. After a moment, Chrissy raised her voice so they could hear it again.
"And Preacher Jim says we have to ak-accept Your will, so I promise I'll do that. And please bless Auntie and Uncle Sam. And Mr. Jose. All our other friends, too. Tell my mama and papa I love them. Amen."
Chrissy leapt up and hurled herself into bed. After wriggling beneath the covers, she held out her hands. Polly went over and kissed her cheek, receiving a kiss in return. She turned to make room for Sam and found herself wedged against his chest. Since her back was to Chrissy, she gave him an icy gaze.
"I'll move out of your way, if I can," she muttered.
Sam snaked his arm around her waist and held her. He bent down and said his own good night to Chrissy, then turned to lead Polly from the room.
Back in the kitchen, Polly firmly removed Sam's hand and turned on him. "I have to finish the dishes."
"Leave them," Sam ordered. "I'll finish them in a while. You're exhausted. You've been dropping things all evening and you've got big enough bags under your eyes to carry a week's worth of supplies in."
"Well, excuse me for being so clumsy and looking so ragged," Polly spat. "But have you thought it might not be all physical tiredness? I've had a heck of a lot to think about lately — not the least of which is the possibility of losing the child I love like she was my own!"
Sam reached for her again, his manner so gentle she didn't fight him. He urged her into a chair by the table, then walked over to the stove and poured them each a cup of coffee. Returning, he set one cup in front of her before he reversed a chair on the other side of the table and straddled it.
"I've been doing a lot of thinking the past few days, too," he said quietly. "Whatever you decide, I want you to know that I'll never keep you out of Chrissy's life. You're the only mother she's ever known, and Jose's told me how much you both mean to each other."
"Then we don't have to marry?" Polly asked hopefully.
"I didn't say that. It's still the only option in my book. I want to be a part of Chrissy's life, too, and I want to make sure she's never in need. But I can also see that maybe you want to find your own husband — have kids of your own...."
"Chrissy is my own!" Polly interrupted. "She's been mine since the day she was born! I would never give her up, even if it meant being forced to fight you with my last breath in front of every judge from here to Washington, D.C."
Sam nodded slowly and took a sip of his coffee. "Then that's the way it's going to be?"
Polly closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Her hands began trembling violently, and she grabbed at her cup, clasping it in a tight grip to try to still her fingers. Her jerky movements sloshed coffee over the rim, and she opened her eyes and stared down at the red spot already forming on the back of one hand.
Sam hastily reached for the butter dish. Stretching across the table, he pried her hands from the cup and shoved it aside. Keeping her burned hand in a firm grasp when she tried to pull away, he dipped a finger into the butter and spread it across her hand.
"Better?" he asked. "I didn't think the coffee was that hot."
"My hands have been soaking in dish water," Polly murmured, resolutely refusing to acknowledge his tender gesture had probably soothed the burn more than the butter. "The skin's still soft and sensitive to the heat."
"Hummmm." Sam ran his fingertip up the inside of her wrist, and a cascade of what felt like goose bumps just under her skin ran up Polly's arm. "Yeah, it's soft all right."
Polly wrenched her hand free. "We were discussing Chrissy's future," she reminded him.
Sam crossed one forearm on the chair back and propped his chin on it. "I guess we were. You were saying that we were going to have to go to court."
"No!" Polly cried, then softened her voice. "No. I-I won't put Chrissy through that. It would be horrible for her. Isn't there some other way?"
"Believe me, I've thought about little else the past few days myself," Sam admitted in a grudging voice. "And I just don't see any other alternative. We're both a necessary part of Chrissy's life, since she doesn't have her parents. You might remember that this is affecting the rest of my life, too."
"That's one of the problems between us. You think of Chrissy as an effect on your life. To me, she's a joyful, wonderful part of it."
"No," Sam denied. "Chrissy's not the effect. You are."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
Sam straightened in his chair, and a slow grin spread over his face. He unhurriedly traced her face with his gaze, lingered a second on her lips and wandered his eyes down her dress bodice. Polly's eyes widened when she felt first a faint, then increasing wave of sensation creep from between her legs up her stomach. She clenched her thighs on the chair seat, but it only escalated the warmth, until her cheeks flushed with heat.
"Stop that!" she demanded.
"All r
ight," Sam said with a shrug. "But I've waited long enough for you to answer me. You're prowling all around the subject, and we need to get this matter settled."
Polly gulped and pulled her hands from the table, clenching them into fists on her lap. Her mouth went dry, and she licked her tongue around her lips, then bit the side of her cheek. Sam's gaze dropped to her mouth and the grin twitched again, but he quickly glanced up and met her eyes.
"I...we...we can be married," she forced out.
"Good." Sam stood and picked up both their coffee cups. "We'll go into town tomorrow afternoon and find a preacher. I had the man at the general store hold a ring for me, in case I needed it. We'll take Jose for one of our witnesses. Do you need a dress or anything?"
"You-you've already made all the plans, haven't you?" Polly said around an indignant gasp. "You knew all along I'd have to agree. Didn't you?
"No, Polly," Sam contradicted. "I merely believe in preparing for all contingencies. It'll take us a long time to get to know each other well enough for me to be able to read your mind. But we'll have all the time we need for that down through the years."
"What was your contingency plan if I said no?"
"We don't need to discuss that." Sam walked over to the sink and dumped out the coffee cups before he turned. "We'll start from now — start new, as though we'd just met. We can make a go of this, Polly."
"People don't usually marry each other when they first meet," Polly reminded him.
"Not usually," Sam agreed.
He sauntered over to where she sat and grasped her shoulders, urging her to stand. Caught in the depths of his smoldering gaze, Polly helplessly obeyed him. He gently ran his index finger down her cheek and across her lips.
"People who get married usually kiss each other at least once or twice before the wedding," he murmured in a soft growl.
Cupping his hands on her face, he tilted her chin up and bent his head. He brushed her lips with a delicate kiss and Polly flinched. Instead of releasing her, Sam kissed her again, still gently and tenderly, but with a firmer pressure. The tension drained from her in one fell swoop and she lifted her hands to his waist. Sam broke the kiss only long enough to reach down and place her unresisting arms around his neck, then gathered her close and captured her mouth in a kiss that tingled all the way from her mouth to her toes. It prickled her breast tips into nubbins and rekindled the warmth between her legs. A far off corner of her mind told her, though, that maybe the hardness pressing against her stomach had something to do with this delicious new heat she had so recently discovered her body capable of achieving.
Sam raised his head and ran his hands down her back, grasping her hips and keeping her firmly pressed against him. Sparks of brownish fire flickered in his eyes as he spoke.
"Oh, yes, Polly, darling. We can make this work."
"That...that was three kisses," Polly murmured inanely.
"Four." He kissed her again, this time tracing his tongue around her lips before he lifted his head. "But who's counting?"
"I...you...we didn't talk about this being part of the agreement."
"Marriage, Polly, darling," Sam growled. "It's not an agreement — it's a marriage. And, yes, it — this — will be part of it. Have no doubt in that pretty little head of yours about that. We're going to be spending a lot of years together, and there's no reason on earth for us to deny ourselves this pleasure."
"It's supposed to be for Chrissy," Polly insisted, somehow finding the will to push against his chest and step back. "We're getting married for Chrissy's sake."
"It's us now, too." Sam picked up a tress of her hair and rolled it between his fingers. "You and me, Polly."
She shook her head in a helpless gesture, pulling her hair free. Sam sighed and dropped his hand.
"Don't worry, Polly. We can take it slow — get to know each other better. I won't expect us to make love tomorrow night, or even the first week or so. But I will expect you to sleep in my bed — for us to have some time alone together. I want you to understand right now that this marriage will eventually be consummated — not only for the legality issue, but also because we'll be taking a vow of fidelity to each other. I intend to honor that vow, but I do not intend to spend the rest of my life abstaining from making love."
Curling his fingers, he reached out and brushed them under her chin. "Go on to bed now, Polly. I want you to get some sleep, so your pretty green eyes won't have those dark circles beneath them tomorrow. I'll finish up in here."
Polly mutely turned away and walked out of the kitchen on unsteady legs. In Chrissy's room, she quickly changed into her nightgown and sank down onto the cot. She knew her jumbled thoughts would never allow her to sleep. Mental pictures and sensations mixed together with snatches of words, keeping her from being able to form more than short, jerky sentences in her mind.
Sam's face. Her body's newly discovered reaction. Making love — lord, she'd heard it hurt virgins. That part of him was big. He touched so gently — it felt so nice. Pleasure, he'd said. He called it making love. Love....
Chapter 5
Muted sounds from the kitchen woke Polly, and she uncharacteristically lay there in the netherworld of half wakefulness for a few seconds longer. She felt so rested, so ready for the day. Keeping her eyes closed, she lifted her arms above her head and stretched luxuriously. The smile on her lips deepened as lingering traces of her dream loitered in her mind.
She'd been in the front parlor — the one other room in the cabin besides their bedrooms and the kitchen. Why didn't they use that room more often? Oh, yes. It took wood for the fireplace. But it had been decorated so nicely in her dream — a Christmas tree, with popcorn and berry strings, and tiny candles on the limbs. A cozy fire blazed in the fireplace, and garlands of holly decorated the mantle. A soft rug cushioned the floor.
They didn't have a soft rug in there, but she'd been lying on one. Not alone, either. And she'd felt so protected, so at peace. So sensual....
Her eyes flew open and she clasped a hand over her mouth. Sam. Sam had been lying there with her — kissing her — stroking her. It hadn't been the heat from the fire at all warming her body.
She flung back the covers and sat up on the side of the cot. Instinctively, her eyes went to Chrissy's bed and found it empty. Now she recognized Chrissy's muted giggles coming from the kitchen, interspersed with a gravelly voice that had recently murmured love words in her dream.
Oh, God. She was getting married today — to Sam. Suddenly a quick rise of excitement stirred in her, but she gritted her teeth and forced it back. Before she could contend with her garbled emotions, Chrissy stuck her head in the bedroom door.
"You're up, Aunt Polly!" Chrissy cried in an excited voice. Skipping on into the room, she continued, "I thought you'd never wake up. We're getting married today, don't you 'member? Uncle Sam said you talked about it last night after I went to bed. Hurry, Auntie."
She flung her small arms around Polly's neck and hugged her tightly. Green eyes dancing with delight, she leaned back and pursed her lips into an impish pout.
"I helped with breakfast, so's you could sleep in. It's your wedding breakfast, and I told what your favorites were and me and Uncle Sam fixed them."
"Uncle Sam and I," Polly corrected automatically.
"Huh uh," Chrissy denied with a shake of her head. "You didn't help, and he's my uncle, not yours. But that's all right, 'cause you always have to cook all the time." She stepped back and tugged on Polly's hands. "Hurry, Auntie. We got lots to do."
"I need to get dressed, Chrissy."
"Oh, we already got water heating for us all to take a bath after breakfast, so's you can just wear your robe. I'll go tell Uncle Sam to cook the eggs now. He didn't want them to get cold while we waited for you to wake up."
In a flash of energy, Chrissy ran from the room. Polly laughed softly under her breath as she shook her head. If she could only bottle that vigor, she could make a fortune selling it. Rising to her feet, she decided to take C
hrissy's advice and just put on her robe. No sense getting dressed twice. After brushing her hair, she pulled it back and tied it loosely, then walked out of the bedroom before she could change her mind and retreat to her bed again.
Sam cracked the last egg on the rim of the bowl and glanced over his shoulder. The egg slithered between his fingers instead of into the bowl, but he ignored the oozing mess.
He could definitely get used to seeing that sight every morning for the rest of his life. The dark circles were gone from beneath Polly's brilliant, emerald eyes. They sparkled with love and tolerance as she glanced at Chrissy, who was setting the table. Tendrils of golden silk curled around her forehead and sleep-flushed cheeks, and a soft smile curved her full lips — lips that had tasted like sweet honey to a starving man when he'd kissed her last night.
The loose fit of the robe only served to tantalize a man who knew exactly how some of those slender curves felt beneath his palms. A set of bare toes peeped out from beneath the hem as she adjusted the belt, and he'd bet his bottom dollar she didn't realize how her breasts were outlined when she shrugged her shoulders to adjust the fit of the robe.
Damn, he was the one with circles under his eyes this morning. He couldn't believe how relieved he'd been last night when Polly agreed to marry him. During his tossing and turning search for sleep after he cleaned up the rest of the dishes, he'd been forced to admit something to himself. This marriage meant more than just a way for him to take care of Chrissy. It meant he'd have Polly for his wife.
He knew she didn't love him — and he sure couldn't be in love with her, especially since all they'd done since they'd first known each other was circle warily, like two dogs sniffing out a challenge. But he'd seen another side of Polly through Jose's eyes, as well as Chrissy's. And he wanted just once to see some respect for himself on Polly's face.
Chrissy's Wish Page 4