Most Unsuitable Courtship

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Most Unsuitable Courtship Page 6

by Clemmons, Caroline


  Maureen bustled back into the room and Storm stood when she appeared.

  She gestured for him to sit. “No need for formalities here. Your wife is terribly bruised and sore. Don’t know how the poor woman rode a horse. I put her to bed. Says she’s not hungry, but I’m taking her some stew and cornbread.”

  “Thank you. We had nothing with us to treat her injuries. I checked for broken ribs. I knew she was in pain, but she insisted she could ride on and I didn’t see what else we could do.”

  “That’s what we all do when there’s no other choice. She’ll be all right now, but the soreness will hang on for several days.” As she spoke she prepared a bowl of stew and slice of cornbread. “I’ll feed her this and be right back.”

  Storm wondered how Rena felt now. “Would you like for me to take that to her?”

  Maureen sent him a kind smile. “Of course, you’re worried about her. Here, you take this in while I finish up our meal. You can come back and join us when you’re sure she’s all right.”

  “Which way?”

  Stella stepped forward. “I’ll show you.”

  Storm followed the girl. She led him around a corner to where it looked as if there were a couple of bedrooms. “This is Mattie’s and my room. The boys sleep in the loft.”

  Rena lay in the double bed. Her hair had been brushed out and fell across her shoulders and spread onto the pillows as he’d imagined. Her ghostly white skin frightened him.

  He walked as softly as his big feet allowed. “Rena?”

  She opened her eyes and smiled. “Ja, I am still alive.”

  After he set the bowl and cup on the chest, he helped her sit up with the pillows behind her so they didn’t press on the injured area. “You’re wearing a nightgown.”

  She peered down at the garment. “Maureen’s. A little large, but comfortable. She is a kind woman.”

  He pulled a chair near the bed then grabbed the stew and coffee. “I’ll help you eat.”

  “I am only banged around, not an invalid. I can feed myself.”

  “I know, but humor me.” He held a spoon of the soup toward her mouth.

  She opened and appeared to savor the mouthful before she swallowed. “What does ‘humor me’ mean?”

  “What you just did. Even if you don’t agree, you do what I ask anyway.” He spooned up more of the thick stew.”

  She looked at the door then lowered her voice. “They think we are really married and that you will sleep in this bed with me.”

  “I’ll tell them I am afraid I’ll hurt your injuries.”

  She shook her head. “I tried that. Maureen said ‘nonsense,’ that having you near would help me feel safe. She thought I would have nightmares of the river without you.” She peered at him wearing a puzzled expression while he spooned more food to her mouth. “Maureen said always her husband’s arms around her let her know she is safe and loved.”

  “They seem like a kind couple. Nice kids too. All in all, a happy family.”

  “Perhaps.” She tilted her head and popped in the last bite of bread. “I am not sure there is such a thing as a happy family. I will watch to see for myself.”

  He stood and cradled the empty bowl and cup in his hands. “You do that, Rena. You do that.”

  Never before had he encountered such a cynical, stubborn woman. Stubborn, yes, for that description fit his sisters. But a woman who didn’t believe in happiness or a loving family? Not that he remembered.

  Danged if he didn’t intend to change her mind.

  Chapter Seven

  Storm crept into the room as the family readied for sleep. The two sisters had carried bedding and climbed into the loft to share the wide space with their brothers. In the next room, Storm heard low murmurs as his hosts prepared for bed.

  As quietly as possible, he shed his boots and clothes and slid into bed.

  Rena stirred. “I am not asleep. I think I will not sleep much this night.”

  “You’re hurting?”

  “Ja, each time I fall asleep, I roll onto my back and wake.”

  Storm raised up enough to slip his pillow from beneath his head. “Roll toward me. My pillow behind you might keep you from turning.”

  Rena slid so she lay on her side against him. “What of your head?”

  He fought for control with her warm body so near. “Perhaps you’ll share a corner of your pillow with me.” Had he gone mad? He needed her further away, not closer, if he hoped to conquer his desire.

  He tucked the pillow behind her and laid his head beside hers. Their faces almost touched. He visualized this position in a marriage. If he moved slightly, his lips would brush hers. He imagined the sweetness of her kiss.

  No, he couldn’t think like that. Besides being a new widow, she knew nothing of men and life. She deserved to spread her wings and enjoy herself before she settled on a man like him or any other.

  Rena snuggled against him. “This is better. I can sleep now.”

  “I hope I can.” He hadn’t intended to whisper his thoughts.

  “Do I push too hard against you?” Half of her draped along Storm’s side.

  He didn’t know how to answer her, so he ignored her question. “Maureen convinced me we need to let you rest here tomorrow, so we’re going to be here another night.”

  “No, we must hurry to catch those men. They will kill again.”

  “If you cannot survive the ride, then what will it matter? They may be holed up after the rain so their tracks won’t be so easy to find. We’ll travel fast when we leave here. Rest while you can.”

  He thought she’d fallen asleep until she stirred.

  Her hand slid across his chest. “You don’t sleep in nightclothes?”

  “Never saw the point.” He stilled her hand by covering it with his. “Don’t be wiggling.”

  “I moved my hand only a little.”

  “You aren’t used to a man younger than Abram. What you were doing with your fingertips causes…um…creates certain…urges that I can’t act on since we’re not really wed.”

  She gasped and pulled her hand away. “Och, ja, I understand.”

  “Did you and Abram sleep in the same bed?”

  “Our cots were on opposite sides of the room. On the ship, we had bunks and I used the top one so Abram didn’t have to climb. For travel across Texas, we had blankets we rolled out each night.”

  “Didn’t you and he ever try….”

  “Never!” Her hissed whisper sounded terse. “His wife and children were killed in Russia. He loved them very much. Abram only protected me, but he never thought of me as his wife, only as his ward or granddaughter.”

  “He must have been a very good man.”

  “Ja, he was the kindest person I have known. Always he planned for my future. If not for me, I believe he would have stayed in Bavaria and found another Jewish settlement.”

  Storm stroked her dainty hand, her slender arm, and her shoulder. He willed himself to ignore her breast where it touched him. The soft fabric of her nightgown did little to conceal her lush warmth. The pressure of her orb enticed him to touch the softness but he resisted.

  “Go to sleep. I suspect these people will rise early. I’ll help around the farm to repay their kindness.”

  Rena relaxed against him. Soon her breathing evened and he knew she slept. He expected to lie awake, but the promise of safe shelter and a soft bed lulled him into slumber.

  The next morning at the first sounds of others stirring, he slid from bed and pushed the cover to cushion Rena. Quickly, he donned his clothing and carried his boots into the main room. All day he labored helping Cavin with jobs too hard for a man alone or a man and a boy. By evening, his muscles complained with aches in new areas.

  Maureen and the girls had dinner ready when he and Cavin returned to the house with Connor trailing behind them. The younger boy, called Davey, ran to meet them. Delicious aromas filled the room. Storm glanced around the common room.

  Maureen smiled at him. “She’s
already had her dinner and is resting in bed. I insisted she take advantage of this chance since she’d have to ride tomorrow.”

  “Thank you. You and your family have been very kind to us.”

  Cavin patted his abdomen. “Let’s eat, my love. I’m so famished my backbone is beating against my belly button.”

  The children giggled, letting Storm know that his host made this comment each evening.

  With a chuckle, Maureen swatted at his arm. “As if either of us was in danger of starving. You sit down and I’ll put our meal before your poor hungry self.”

  Storm relaxed in the friendly atmosphere. The meal progressed with laughter and joking among the family. This household reminded him of his sister Pearl’s, and he longed to complete his mission and return home. Although he had his own ranch, he saw his sisters and their families often.

  Would he ever be surrounded with a family of his own?

  Until now he’d planned to wait a couple of years to think about marriage. Being here, his mind filled with a hollow ache for a family and a wife seated by his side. A vision of Rena flitted into his head and surprised him.

  Rena?

  He recalled the pleasure of her nearness the previous night. Her fiery spirit and determination captured his respect. Her softness and vulnerability created a different need—a need to hold her and make passionate love.

  He realized Cavin had asked him a question and shook his head to clear his mind. “Beg pardon. Could you repeat that?”

  Cavin chuckled. “I said, lad, that you have your head in the clouds thinking about your lady wife. Don’t wait on us. Go on and see to her.”

  Storm hoped his bronze skin hid the blush he sensed colored his face. “Thank you both for your help.”

  “The work you did today would have taken me a long time by myself. I’d likely have broken a leg trying to patch the barn roof. Now the house and barn are watertight, thanks to your help.”

  He stood. “Good night.”

  His gut clenched and rolled like a herd of cattle tromped inside. What the heck, he was going to sleep, not to a hanging. As he rounded the corner and looked into the bedroom, he saw Rena reclining on her side as if waiting for him.

  Her long blond hair spread across her shoulders and the pillow behind her. Lamplight cast her pale skin in a soft glow. The sight stole his breath and he almost turned tail for the barn. Cowardice wasn’t in him, so he eased softly into the room, closing the door behind him.

  Rena watched him. “I am much better, but Maureen insisted I stay here.”

  “Tomorrow will be rough, so you’ll be glad you rested today.” He shucked out of his shirt and toed off his boots, then bent to remove his socks.

  She pushed aside the cover for him to slide into bed.

  He swallowed hard. “Rena, are you sure…”

  She nodded and looked toward the door. “They will wonder if we do not sleep together. As embarrassing as this situation is for us, I would be shamed if they realized the truth.”

  He unbuttoned his trousers then lowered the lamp. After exhaling, he lowered himself onto the bed and yanked the cover to his waist. “You sleep a lot today?”

  She fitted herself to him as she had the previous night, as if they slept like this each night. “No, only rested. I sat up in bed and darned clothes for this family and helped with quilt blocks.”

  Her arm across his midsection seemed right.

  “And now what do you think about people being happy?”

  “Ja, you are right a little. These people are happy together. But most are not. Of this I am sure.”

  He stroked her satin arm. “You’ll see, Rena. Even if there is trouble and little money, most families work together and are happy.”

  “I will not believe this unless I see it for myself. One family in all those I’ve known does not prove anything.”

  Her head rested even with his on the pillow. Before he realized his actions, he’d leaned forward and brushed his lips gently across hers. She responded by meeting his kiss.

  He pulled back and caressed her hair. “You have not kissed many men.”

  “You are the first who kissed me on the lips. Abram, Muti, and Vati kissed me on the cheek.”

  “And did you like our kiss?”

  “Yes. Could…could we share another?”

  He leaned forward and took possession of her mouth. Years of hunger overwhelmed him and he thrust his tongue into her mouth.

  Rena gasped at the shock of Storm’s boldness. A strange ache compelled her to respond by matching his probing. Heat filled her and pooled in her feminine place. In spite of her injuries, she longed to throw her legs around him.

  His hand glided inside her borrowed gown and left a warm trail where he slid along her skin. He caressed her breast and her craving increased. What had come over her to hunger for more? More of what, she didn’t understand. But she needed him closer, as if she could absorb his strength and power.

  Their breathing ragged, Storm broke the kiss.

  “This is not a wise idea.”

  Her body cried out for his lost touch. “No?”

  He smoothed her gown down. “Besides being injured, you are not really my wife. I can’t act on my desire for you and take advantage of our situation.”

  She pulled him closer. “Not even if I wish it?”

  He kissed her cheek softly. “You do now, but what about later? What will you think when we are away from here and have regained your money?”

  She caught his hand and pressed it to her. “I can’t think about that now. My mind is on our touching.”

  “Exactly my point.” He exhaled and scooted his body so they no longer touched. “Giving in to a few moments’ desire would change your life. Some things can’t be undone.”

  “Now I feel as if you’ve lost respect for me. Do you think I am a…a woman of loose morals?”

  “Of course not. You’re a beautiful woman and I respect your strength and determination—even though I disagree with you.” He curled against her again. “Now, go to sleep. Tomorrow will be very hard for both of us.”

  “Storm?”

  She’d never spoken his first name before. He loved the way it rolled off her tongue with her German accent. “Yes.”

  “Maureen was right. Being close last night kept me safe and free from nightmares.”

  He chuckled softly and kissed her forehead. “Then sleep well. Good night.”

  She lay next to him examining her thoughts and longing. She’d been married to Abram a long time—almost seven years—yet never experienced hunger when he was near. No other man she’d met incited these wild yearnings within her.

  What if she stayed with Storm Kincaid? What if she agreed to go with him to his home and meet his family? Would she at last belong somewhere?

  Chapter Eight

  Rena’s every bone and muscle protested. She and Storm had ridden hard for over three days after leaving the O’Hara farm. Soon they would find a town or a house where they could stay.

  At least they’d crossed what he called the Brazos River without mishap. She still shuddered when she remembered her earlier encounter at the Colorado. She’d almost drowned. How could she have been so foolish?

  Frustration nagged at her. They’d found campfires and burned houses with only graves to greet them. Surely they’d soon find the killers and she would shoot at least one to avenge Abram.

  Only now she didn’t want to shoot a killer as much as she wanted to live. When he’d been murdered so cruelly, she had wanted to kill at least one of the men who murdered her elderly husband even if she died too. Shame filled her that now she wanted to live and marry and have a full life more than she wanted to shoot the murderers.

  Her earlier plan to avenge Abram’s murder and her present state left her confused mind awhirl. First Vati and then Abram guided her and made decisions, and Storm thought he should order her around. How could she learn to think and act for herself?

  “Those are their prints.” Storm slo
wed. “The prints are fresh, so they’re nearby. We have to move slowly and quietly now.”

  The sound of gunshots broke the silence.

  “Stay behind me and keep your gun in your hand.” With a glance at her, he urged Thunder forward.

  Smoke appeared on the horizon. Storm drew his rifle from the saddle scabbard. He halted at a shed and slid off his horse. She followed him.

  “Stay back behind this chicken coop. Fire from one side, then the other, as if you are two people.”

  “What will you do?” She fed bullets into her revolver.

  “Stop those murderers if I can.” He reached in his saddlebag and loaded cartridges into his pockets. “When I reach that wagon, you start shooting.”

  She waited until he reached the buckboard’s shelter, and then fired. From her spot, she couldn’t see much more than that the barn was in flames and a man lay in the home’s yard. A woman slumped on the ground a few feet outside the doorway.

  Storm took aim as the killers milled around the yard. They appeared to be engaged in an angry dispute. One kicked the woman and then went back to the man. Storm’s shot caught the red haired killer in the stomach. The other three ran, firing as they headed for their horses.

  She followed Storm’s instructions, praying first that she hit one of the men who’d killed Abram, then praying they wouldn’t find her behind the chicken coop. The evil men hadn’t concluded their slaughter and chickens squawked at the disturbance.

  Abandoning their downed man, the gang rode away.

  Storm removed the weapons from the injured raider.

  The man called Lon clutched his middle. “Help me, man. I’m gut shot.”

  “I’ll see to you after I take care of the others.” He rushed to the woman who lay in the house’s doorway. She’d been shot through the heart and probably died instantly. He hurried to her husband. The man still breathed, though Storm thought not for long.

  “Kids,” he gasped. “Cellar.”

  “Where’s the cellar?”

  “House. Table.” Then he choked. His next words trailed into a whisper. “Shot her. . . spare her. . . from men.”

 

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