The Cowboy's Bride

by Cathy Gillen Thacker

  “I wish that, too. Maybe then—” He shrugged and his voice trailed off.

  She knew he didn’t want to go on, but Callie wasn’t about to leave it at that, not when they had already talked about so much. “You think it would’ve made a difference if we had stayed here and gotten married or simply waited for a less stressful time to commit to each other?” she ventured.

  “Don’t you?” Cody shot right back.

  “I don’t know.” Callie studied her hands. So much had been taken from her already. She hated to let go of the last of her illusions, or find out she and Cody were not meant to be together after all, which was, she knew, what they were risking in trying to take this any further. She leveled a contemplative look at Cody and admitted honestly, “I just wish we had talked this openly then.”

  “Me, too,” Cody agreed gently. “I think it would’ve made a difference.”

  Maybe it would still make a difference, Callie thought optimistically, knowing she felt better already.

  “And speaking of differences—” Callie pushed away from the table cheerfully “—we better get to that shave.” Before you change your mind.

  Not waiting for his reply, Callie hurried up the stairs. Three minutes later, she returned with a washcloth and towel over one arm, a pair of small barber scissors she’d found in the medicine cabinet, an old-fashioned straight razor and some shaving powder in a barber’s mug with a brush.

  Still barefoot and bare-chested, Cody was straddling a kitchen chair. His brawny arms were folded over the ladder back of the chair.

  “I didn’t know guys used this kind of razor anymore,” Callie said as she set her barber supplies out on the table.

  “Most don’t.” Cody eyed her skeptically as she began to get set up.

  “Then?” Callie cast Cody a questioning glance as she moved to wrap the towel around his shoulders.

  “Patience gave it to me for Christmas a couple years ago. She knew I’d thrown my other razors away when I decided to stop shaving and she thought the novelty of trying that straight razor might tempt me to shave off my beard.”

  “But it didn’t,” Callie guessed.

  “Nope.”

  He eyed the scissors she’d brought down. “Planning to give me a new haircut, too?”

  His face showed no clue as to what he thought of that idea.

  Callie moved to the sink. “I will later, if you want. Although I wouldn’t cut off much,” she allowed as she added shaving powder then water to the cup, then swished it around into a creamy lather.

  “No?” Cody watched as she set the shaving cup aside.

  “I like it long,” Callie admitted with a smile as she turned toward him urgently. “It suits you. But we can do that later. Right now I want to get started on this beard.” She wanted to see if he still looked like the old Cody without it.

  Callie cupped his chin in one hand and tipped his head back. As she touched him, their eyes met. Initially, his glance was speculative, almost playful, then abruptly—raptly – fascinated. But as she continued to touch him, that too faded. He became oddly vulnerable. As did she. And as they continued to look deep into each other’s eyes, it was as if she could see directly into the depths of his bruised soul. All the hurts he had suffered, all the dreams that had escaped him, all the dreams he still had were reflected in his dark, tormented eyes.

  It took an enormous amount of willpower for Callie to proceed with the barbering challenge.

  There was still a part of her that wanted nothing more than to take him straight to bed and kiss him and hold him until all the pain in his heart went away, for good this time, and another part of her that wanted nothing more than to run from the possibility of tangling with Cody in any truly intimate way. She had already lost her heart to him once, only to have to leave him to protect him. She didn’t want it happening again. Not unless she knew for certain that he could and would return the feelings she still had and always would have for him, and that in the end she would be free to be with him.

  But it was too late to back out on him now, Callie told herself firmly as Cody continued to regard her solemnly. He had challenged her to do this and she had accepted. It didn’t matter that being so close to him made her pulse race and her senses swim, Callie thought nervously. She had to go through with this or be seen by him as weak and fickle once again. And that she couldn’t countenance.

  Taking solace in the fierce concentration required for the task, and the sudden absence of any real conversation between them, she began carefully snipping off thick chunks of dark, wheat gold beard, discarding them barber-style onto the floor. As she worked, Cody continued to watch her unremittingly. Rather than resenting the way she was touching him, he seemed to enjoy it. “Do this a lot, do you?” he teased softly, in his old, roguish way.

  As Callie moved from the right side of his face to the left, she inhaled the scent of his cologne. The brisk masculine fragrance reminded her of all the times they had kissed.

  Avoiding his ocean blue eyes altogether for fear she would lose all track of what she was doing if she didn’t, she concentrated on his chin. “Actually, this is my first time.”

  His eyes twinkled with sudden mischief and he chided her gently, “My first time, too.”

  Callie blushed as he meant her to, then put down her scissors and picked up the shaving mug and brush. “Behave,” she scolded.

  He settled his hands on her waist, caressing gently. “Tall order.”

  How well Callie knew that! “Do it anyway,” she said, willfully injecting more sternness in her tone than she felt.

  Pushing his hands away, she stepped in front of him so that his long legs were on either side of her. With a nonchalance she couldn’t begin to feel, she began to lather the sides of his face and the underside of his jaw, then his upper lip. Still watching her intently, Cody angled his head back. Callie picked up the straight razor, scraped the blade down his face and was rewarded with her first glimpse of rugged male skin. The planes of his face were every bit as beautifully sculpted as she recalled. Anxious to see the rest of him, Callie wiped the excess lather on the edge of the towel. Then, still concentrating fiercely, she did the whole process again, and then again, and then again.

  Finished, Callie put down the razor, picked up the washcloth and went back to the sink. She soaked the cloth with hot water, then went back to Cody. She gently finished her barbering by washing the last bit of shaving cream from his face, then stood back to get a glimpse of her handiwork.

  And found, in her growing sense of wonder, that he looked incredible. Absolutely incredible. The absence of the beard had opened up his face, showing him to be classically handsome in that rugged, Montana rancher way. His blue eyes, with their thick fringe of golden lashes, somehow seemed more intensely alive, his cheekbones higher and more prominent, his lips more sensual. But there were other, more important changes, as well, Callie thought as the satisfaction deep inside her built and built. It was as if something else... some private stock of pain and grieving... had been released. As if Cody were free again, of so much. As was she.

  “Well?” Cody drawled as he ran a hand along his smoothly shaven jaw. “What do you think?”

  Grinning, Callie smoothed a hand across his cheek. She hadn’t felt this lighthearted in years. “Much better.” Reminded he hadn’t seen the way he looked yet, Callie linked arms with him and retorted happily, “But the real question is, what do you think, Cody?”

  Cody ran a hand across his face again, then shrugged his broad shoulders negligently. “It feels great. I don’t know if I’ll recognize myself, though.” He headed for the bathroom mirror upstairs, Callie by his side.

  “Well?” she said as he studied his reflection in the mirror. She knew she was deeply prejudiced in his favor but she thought he had never looked more handsome. Not boyishly so, as he had when she had known him before. But handsome in a mature sense, rugged and wild in that Montana cowboy way. She could still see he had suffered, just as she had. But he ha
d also found the strength to pull himself up by the bootstraps and go on. As she had. Perhaps, she thought, encouraged, they had more in common than they knew.

  Cody touched a hand to her shoulder. “You did a great job for me,” he said, his low voice reverberating with a distinctly sensual pleasure. “I don’t know after all this time if I’d have had the nerve or will to do it. Thanks.”

  Callie nodded, almost shyly, and their eyes met and held in the reflection of the mirror. “You’re welcome,” she said softly. And suddenly there was no more need for words. Because it was all there, on his face and in her heart.

  He wanted her as much as she wanted him.

  And suddenly, despite all her effort to the contrary, they were headed into dangerous territory anyway.

  They tore their eyes from the mirror’s reflection. Cody’s eyes darkened sensually as he swung around to face her. He slanted her a sexy half smile, and suddenly she knew what was coming, even before he offered up in a lazy drawl, “As long as we’re into experimentin’ this afternoon, let’s try this, too.”

  As if it were the most natural thing in the world, he captured her in his strong arms. Leaning against the sink, he drew her between his spread legs and wrapped his arms around her waist.

  Callie’s heart skipped a beat. “Cody, I—I’m not — this is—what I—uh—”

  Callie’s words were cut off as his lips brushed hers, softly, tantalizingly at first. She heard herself whimper and then instinct and desire took over. She let herself go. Let herself surrender to the inevitable. Her lips opened to his and the deep, evocative plundering of his tongue.

  Cody had learned, years before, just how to kiss her, she recalled. And as he held her and kissed her and kissed her, his hands smoothing down her spine and over her hips, he drew on that knowledge to devastating effect, involving not just her lips and her body but her heart and soul, too. “Oh, Cody,” Callie whispered shakily at last. Too much was happening too soon, and she wasn’t even sure it was for anything near the right reasons, the right reasons being love not lust. But she was powerless to resist as he wrapped her against his hard frame. It all felt so damn good. So damn satisfying.

  “Cody what?” he prodded gently as he lifted his head and looked at her, the hungry, watchful expression in his eyes so different from the tender evocativeness of his hands.

  Buying time, Callie stroked the brawny width of his shoulders, the warm, rock-solid muscles of his hair-whorled chest. She couldn’t help but notice that the lines around his mouth and eyes had eased in the moments since they had begun to touch and kiss. She didn’t want them coming back again; he had already suffered far too much. “Don’t do anything you’ll regret,” she warned in a soft, caressing whisper. Don’t do anything I’ll regret.

  Cody’s eyes gentled even more as he pressed a light kiss to her brow. “I’m not going to regret this, Callie. And neither are you. And why should we? I want you. You want me. What could be more natural than that?”

  From the sound of it, he wasn’t offering her much more than an affair. And that was such a tenuous thing, whereas she had always wanted something permanent, something lasting. Like marriage. But not to just anyone.

  Before she came to her senses, he swept her into his strong arms and carried her to his bedroom. Callie drew a shaky breath as he unbuttoned the shirt she had borrowed from him and drew it over her shoulders.

  “Don’t you want to make love?” Cody asked, already caressing her breasts.

  Callie trembled as her flesh came to life under his questing fingertips. “Yes, but it still doesn’t mean we should do this.”

  Cody merely smiled. There was a whimsical gleam in his blue eyes. “Doesn’t it?” Not one who was easily dissuaded about anything, he unfastened her bra with one hand, then cupped her breasts in his palms, stroking them, tracing her nipples until she moaned. “When was the last time you felt like this, Callie?” he inquired huskily as he eased her jeans and panties down her legs. “When have you ever felt like this?”

  Seven years ago, Callie thought dizzily. He laid her on his bed and wedged a leg between her thighs. His jeans were enticingly rough on her bare skin as he stroked her intimately. A fire raged through her veins as he kissed her again and again, leisurely exploring the erotic potential of his lips when locked against hers. And as they continued to kiss, she couldn’t help but marvel over the miracle of finding him again, of feeling their anger and disappointment begin to dissolve—even if it was only through sex—and a burden begin to be lifted from her heart.

  She had missed him. Not willing to waste an instant of the incredible passion that had often seemed more dream than memory, she wreathed her arms about him, moved against him sinuously and released a tremulous sigh. “I knew you were trouble the first moment I laid eyes on you again.”

  “You know what they say about trouble,” he murmured as he continued to kiss her in the same slow, deliberate way, shattering what little reserve of caution she had left. He paused only briefly to remove his jeans.

  “What?” She forced her gaze up until it locked with his. She smiled at the tightening of his muscles beneath her fingertips, the heat flooding into his bare skin, and knew, even though it was a terrible risk, that she didn’t have the strength or will to pull away.

  “There’ll be hell to pay when it’s over.” He slid down her body, kissing the hollow of her stomach and stroking the soft insides of her thighs. He traced her navel with his tongue, then slid lower, to deliver the most sensual of kisses.

  His fingers were warm and demanding as he brought her to the brink of ecstasy. She parted her lips, her breath catching as he dipped his tongue into her mouth. She had never experienced anything like this intense, aching need. She had never wanted so much to be kissed, touched, held.

  She closed her eyes, reveling in the warm, heavy weight of him, the hardened muscle and smooth skin feathered with tufts of soft, whorling hair. The longing inside her was fierce. Was this what it would be like to make love, to become one with Cody, body and soul?

  Her fingers gripped the muscles of his upper arms as he eased her legs open with his knee. As his body sank into hers, she felt a moment’s panic, a moment’s brief, searing pain, which was soon obliterated by the thrill of having him inside her. She was pulsing all over, inside and out, and the hunger that had always been between them flared to life. They moved together as if they had been lovers for many years, their coupling bringing her the most riveting pleasure she had ever known.

  And still it wasn’t enough for either of them. Moving in primal rhythm, she sheathed him tightly. Whispering his name, she arched upward, again and again.

  The depth of her passion pushed him into oblivion. With a final thrust, he brought them both to ecstasy. She surged against him once more, fitting her mouth to his. Gathering her close, he kissed her sweetly, languidly, until finally the shudders drew out, their emotions were drained, and they lay spent, trembling and exhausted.

  Chapter Seven

  Cody had dreamed of having her in his bed, in his life again. Sometimes, some long, lonely nights, it seemed that was all he ever dreamed. But nothing could have prepared him for the softness of her surrendering body against his, the sweet give of her lips, the flinch of pain. The knowledge he was the first to make love to her — that she had waited all this time for him as he had waited for her — lit fire to his own aching, overwhelming need. In slow, purposeful consummation, he had let her know with every touch, every kiss, every stroke that she was his, and only his.

  But he had thought—hoped—he was over Callie by now. Considering all that had passed between them, he certainly should have been.

  His feelings in turmoil, his body still humming with the aftereffects of their lovemaking, Cody levered himself away from her. He rolled onto his back, staring at the ceiling above his bed. When she had duped him and run away, he had sworn to wreak his revenge on her if he ever caught up with her again. And now... Cody groaned and passed a hand over his eyes.

&
nbsp; “Cody? What is it?” Callie asked in a voice that quavered slightly.

  Cody ran a hand over his jaw. The smooth skin that had lain beneath his beard felt as unfamiliar to him as having Callie in his bed.

  He rolled onto his side and propped himself up on one elbow. “Ah, Callie...” Damn, he wished she wasn’t so beautiful. That her hair was not so soft and clean and touchable, or cut in such a sexy, tousled way. If she kept looking at him like that with those wide green eyes full of shimmering wonder and desire, that trembling lower lip that just begged to be kissed again, he was going to be a goner. Unless, of course, Cody thought as he reined himself in hard, he worked swiftly to inject some distance between them again. And if there was one thing he knew, Cody thought, beginning to get himself back on track again, it was how to push people away.

  Cody sat up lazily. “We finally consummated our marriage.”

  Callie tugged the sheet up to cover her breasts. “Is that the way you see it?”

  Cody tore his eyes from the soft curves of her breasts and shrugged. “I don’t know what else to call it.” He let his eyes move over her. “Except maybe satisfying our curiosity about what it would be like to be with each other in the most intimate way possible.”

  Callie’s eyes flashed fire. “Well, now we know for sure that we’re all wrong for each other, don’t we?” she snapped.

  This was the Callie he knew, her temper in full flame. “I guess we do at that,” Cody drawled, tossing off the sheet. Naked, he reached for his clothes, while Callie wrapped herself toga-style in the sheet.

  “So we won’t have to be doing this again,” she vowed.

  Cody tugged on a clean pair of socks. “I’m all for that.” He pulled on his boots, one after the other, then became aware of the scent of something burning. He looked at Callie as she slipped on her own jeans and shrugged back into his shirt. “You smell something?”

  “Oh, no!” Callie clapped a hand to her mouth and raced for the kitchen. “The soup! I forgot to take it off the stove!”