He grumbled, turned sideways and punched at the roll under his head. Damn if only he’d not spoken the words. Had waited to think things through before blurting out and telling her it was best to pretend what happened had not. Instinctively, he’d wanted to protect himself, figuring she’d try to let him down easy. Her reaction had astonished him. It was as if he’d hurt her, not made things easier. Now it was too late, it wasn’t as if he could go back and undo it.
Warm air wafted through the window, not enough to cool him down. With a soft curse, he got up and stalked to the front door. He went outside and circled the main house. Patrick told himself he ensured all was well, but in truth he hoped to catch a glimpse of Charlie.
The light was on and he could look through the window into the front room. She sat at a chair before the fire, in her lap a book. But she did not look at the pages, instead, her gaze was fixed at the flames. When she shuddered and wiped her eyes, his chest constricted. Of course, she cried tonight. Her friend was gone. Patrick rapped softly on the window pane and she turned.
Charlie got to her feet and rushed to the door throwing it open. “Is something wrong?” Her wide reddened eyes met his. He’d never seen anything more beautiful.
“No. I couldn’t sleep and since you were up hoped I could come in and make some tea or something. Would it be all right?”
She looked behind her to the chair where her shawl lay across the arm of it. “Yes, of course. I—I am not dressed, but I suppose it’s all right.” Awkward, she took a couple steps back to allow him in.
When he stepped through the doorway, she remained still, her eyes downcast. Patrick’s chest constricted at the sadness she exuded. Before he could think otherwise, he pulled her against him and wrapped his arms around her. “Mary Ellen will be back before you know it.” He told her unable to keep from pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “You’ll see.”
Her arms went around his waist and she laid her head on his chest. At her shuddering sigh, it was obvious how much she missed this, being held. Touched.
“It’s so much,” she said her voice muffled by his clothes. “I am tired.”
Patrick cupped her chin and lifted her face to him. “It’s understandable you feel that way tonight. But it’s not so bad.”
“I suppose maybe I’ll feel better in the morning.”
Long lashes clumped together by tears and the slight redness to her pert nose only made her more beautiful. Patrick lowered his mouth to hers, pressing against her lips as softly as he could asking permission.
With a release of breath she granted it and deepened it, pushing up to her toes to kiss him harder. Her lips parted and he slipped his tongue in, sliding to touch hers.
Charlie splayed her fingers on his back and flattened her body against his. The action sending currents of heat through him and although his head screamed that he should pull away before it was too late, every instinct kept him there in the wonderful warmth and embrace of the most magnificent woman he’d ever known.
Ever so slowly, he slid his hands down her sides enjoying the flare from her waist to her hips. Enticing and supple, it was all he could do to keep from moaning when she pressed her breasts against his chest. Charlie Kennedy could be his undoing.
He lifted his face just enough to speak into her ear. “I didn’t mean those words. What I said when coming back from town. It was an effort to keep from putting you in the position to have to do it. I want to get to know you.”
Golden specks seemed to twinkle in her hazel eyes. “I can’t stop thinking about you. About us.” She bit her bottom lip and her cheeks reddened.
“Me, either.” He pressed a soft kiss on her lips. “You are why I couldn’t sleep tonight.”
“Kiss me again.” She wrapped her arms around his neck. “I want it so much.”
This time there was more urgency, neither held back as they clashed against each other. Her fingers raked through his hair and returned his kisses with as much ardor as he gave.
Moments later, she pulled away breathless and smiled up at him. “I am not sure if whether to be mortified or unreasonably happy at this moment.”
His own lips curved. If it were not for being uncomfortably aroused, he would give over to the lightness in his chest at her expression. “Be happy, Charlie.”
“What about us…this?” Before she could continue speaking, he kissed her again, this time ensuring to keep it more chaste.
“How about we take it day by day and see where it leads.” He hoped it led to her bed eventually, but for now he’d settle for this. Touching. Kissing. Her wonderful body against his.
“Very well.” Charlie took his hands. “Now how about you put the kettle on and I get my shawl. I can’t very well prance about in my nightgown.”
Her attempt at gaining control over the situation and her breathing was adorable. As she walked toward the chair the silhouette of her body became visible thanks to the fire burning brightly in the hearth. Another gift she gave him, although unwittingly.
Joe turned one way and then another admiring himself in the mirror she held up. “I have to say, this is the finest shirt I own. I don’t think I can wear it to work and such.”
“I made two, the ones you have are threadbare. But it’s up to you when you want to wear them.” Charlie looked up to see Patrick watching them from the doorway.
“Looks nice, Joe,” he said and older man flushed.
“Your turn,” Charlie motioned him over. “Try this on.”
She’d already measured Jerrick and made his. Now she had one cut and basted so Patrick could try it on for size. “Put it on with care. I need to pin it.”
Moments later she could barely keep herself from sticking a pin into either her finger or Patrick’s side as she pulled the fabric together to pin it.
He was obedient as she told him to hold still with his arms out to the sides. “There is no need for you to go to all this trouble,” he repeated. “I’ve got three shirts. Planned to get another pair in town.”
“Are you turning down my gift?” She slid him a playful glance. “Jerrick was much more appreciative.”
The movement of his throat when he swallowed took her attention. “No, ma’am. I’ll certainly never turn down such a caring gift.”
“Good.”
She hummed as she pinned and then helped to remove his shirt so not to prick him. The action seemed so intimate, especially when he stood before her shirtless. Charlie scrambled for a neutral subject. “I have to admit the combination of the tincture with the herbs you recommended and eating more red meat have helped me tremendously. I haven’t felt ill in weeks.”
He pulled on his shirt. “I’m glad to hear it.” When Patrick neared she waited for what he’d do or say. His hand engulfed her smaller one. “Thank you for such a thoughtful gift, Charlie.”
After he walked out, for a few moments, Charlie remained standing in the middle of her sewing room with a goofy grin on her face.
The next night Patrick had another sleepless night. This time it was different, he didn’t feel well. Just what he didn’t need. To get sick.
“Can’t say I remember a day that I rose before you,” Jerrick nudged at his bunk with his foot. “You sick or somethin’?”
Patrick stretched and yawned, he found himself not ready to face another day of hard work. Never one to dawdle, he sat up and swung his legs to the side of the bed. “Yeah, didn’t sleep well at all. Every muscle in my body aches.”
“You don’t look good,” Jerrick observed his head cocked to the side. “Comin’ down with something?”
As the day progressed Patrick felt worse, until he finally gave up and headed back to the bunkhouse where he made a strong cup of coffee and drank it before stripping and climbing back into the bed. Not a few moments later, he began to shake uncontrollably not able to get warm enough.
“Patrick?” He opened his eyes to find three faces looking down at him. Charlie’s hand on his brow, while Jerrick and Joe watched with matchi
ng worried expressions. “There you are. How do you feel?”
He opened his mouth to speak only to find it dry as a dustbowl. The attempt to clear his throat didn’t work either. “How long?” he croaked out. “What day is it?”
“You’ve been out of it for two days,” Jerrick told him.
He struggled to sit up, not feeling comfortable at lying about in front of them. Once upright, he scooted back until he sat with his back against the wall. Relieved to not have to voice how thirsty he was, he accepted the glass of water Charlie pushed into his hand. He gulped down two additional glasses, each time his hands shaking just enough to annoy him. “I’ll be ready to go back to work tomorrow.”
“You will do no such thing,” Charlie told him with a scowl. “You’ll need a couple days to recuperate.”
It was then he looked around and noticed he was not in the bunkhouse. The room was unfamiliar, yet he understood it to be in the house. They must have moved him. “I feel fine.” He attempted a stern look, but knew it fell flat.
“Two days won’t hurt,” Joe said. “It’s been raining, so we can’t do much more right now than see after the horses and such. It’s perfect timing, if you ask me. The grass will be plentiful for the cattle. One last good feeding before the buyer arrives in a couple weeks.”
Patrick didn’t pay any mind to the rest of their conversation, his concentration instead on his body, moving his legs and arms, breathing deeply. Other than a slight headache and neck stiffness, he felt good. “I need to wash up, if y’all don’t mind?” He went to stand only to fall back onto the bed when Charlie pressed on his shoulder.
“Go slow. I’ll leave since I’m sure you need privacy. There’ll be a bath ready for you in the kitchen. I need to go see about my garden since it seems you are well enough to do on your own.”
She left and he looked up at Jerrick and Joe. “I’m fine. Unless you plan to hold my dick while I piss, I suggest you leave.”
It was comical to watch the looks of disgust. Joe left, his boots clunking on the hardwood floor. Jerrick lingered. “I’ll be within earshot. Make sure you make it to the kitchen, then I’ll go get some work done.” His friend walked out.
Feeling more human after the day that consisted of sitting in the main room and the afternoon on the porch, Patrick was ravenous by dinnertime. After the meal, he helped Charlie clean up and then sat with her and Joe as they drank coffee.
The rain continued to fall, which made for a cozy setting after Joe excused himself to go to his room on the other end of the house.
Patrick studied Charlie. She looked tired, dark shadows under her eyes but yet no less beautiful. “You’ve been doing too much.” He placed his hand over hers. “I’m sorry I added to your burden.”
“Don’t be silly. It’s not like you could help it.” Her eyes met his and his chest tightened at how much he wanted her. Desire ran through him like a hot poker prompting him to clear his throat and look away.
“I’ll get my things and go back to the bunkhouse.” He leaned over the table and pressed a light kiss onto her lips. “Thank you for everything.”
She cupped his jaw and let out a sigh. “Won’t you stay at least tonight? We can sit by the fire.”
Did Charlie have any idea what she asked of him? It was already monumentally impossible to think of anything else but her. Burying himself into her body until nothing else existed. Was it love?
No, he didn’t think so. Although he had never been so infatuated with a woman. Yes, he’d had lovers who lingered in his mind long after he’d moved on, but something felt different. With Charlie, he battled every minute, between moving slowly and ravaging her.
“I’ll stay.” At his reply, she brightened, her lips curving into a wide smile. “Good. I need someone’s company. I miss Mary Ellen so.”
“Is that what I am? A replacement for a lady friend to while the hours with? I can’t sew or pin up your hair. I may be a poor stand in.”
The tingle of her laughter filled the room and he wished to bottle it and carry the sound of it with him.
In front of the fire, she sat with her feet curled under her, snuggled against his side. Both watched the flames in a comfortable silence after discussing random things in the familiar dance of two people getting to know each other.
Patrick tipped her face up to him and took her mouth. His hunger for her could not be abated. The longer he remained there, the more he had to fight to keep from stretching her out and laying over her. She returned his kiss, her hands tugging at his shirt. He tilted his head to better kiss her, moving his tongue from one side of her lips to the other, tasting her. She moaned softly when he caressed her side, the sound almost his undoing.
Chests heaving, they pulled apart. “I could do this all night,” Patrick said, and couldn’t help kissing her mouth again. “But it’s best we don’t. I can’t promise not to drag you to the nearest bed.”
Charlie gasped, her mouth falling open. She swallowed visibly and fell against him. “I feel the same way.”
The crackling of the fire took his attention. It helped settle him to concentrate on it while caressing her arm. “What if we get married?”
Chapter Eleven
Charlie moved in a daze the next morning. Biscuits were in the oven, a mixture of eggs and potatoes cooked on the stovetop. She waited for Patrick to appear, hoped he did so before the others.
They’d parted ways the night before after his question. Both agreeing it was best if they slept on it and could think clearer by the next day. Of course, she’d barely slept, her mind going over the situation. Yes, she was wildly attracted to Patrick Callahan and could see herself falling in love with him. If anything, she was halfway there already.
But what about him? Had he asked in a moment of passion? Would he repeat the words he’d said when returning from town? This time, it would break her heart. It would change things. She’d not continue the relationship as it had been, but return to ranch hand and owner of the ranch. Professional only.
“You’re thinking too much,” his strong arms wrapped around her and Patrick pressed a kiss to her temple. “I haven’t changed my mind.”
Patrick turned her to face him and his mouth took hers with a raw hunger that had her clinging to his shoulders to keep from collapsing to the floor. Against his hard chest, she felt protected, taken care of. Safe. He pulled up and smiled down at her. “Marry me, Charlotte Kennedy.”
“Good morn… Oh.” Jerrick stood in the doorway, his mouth open his eyes flicking from her to Patrick. “I should go?”
Patrick did not release her. “I just asked Charlie to marry me.”
A warm flush filled her and she was sure her face was reddened. Charlie pushed away from Patrick. “Please come in and sit. Breakfast is ready.”
“You haven’t answered my question,” Patrick said taking her hand.
“What question is that?” Joe walked in and stopped in his tracks, his face almost identical to Jerrick’s earlier expression, his gaze locked to their connected hands.
Charlie couldn’t keep from chuckling. “Patrick just asked me to marry him.”
“It’s about damn time. I’m tired of pretending not to notice how you two make eyes at each other. It’s downright sugary,” Joe grumbled and poured a cup of coffee and sat the table.
The three men looked expectantly at Charlie. She took a deep breath and looked at Patrick. “Yes, Patrick Callahan. I will marry you.”
His lips curved into a sensual smile that made her knees weak and then pressed a chaste kiss to her lips. “Thank you.”
Somehow, she managed to keep steady as she served the men and sat down to breakfast with them. Thankfully, Joe began to talk of what all needed to be done now that the rain had finally stopped which continued through the meal.
Jerrick and Joe left, while Patrick lingered to help her clean up. “When do you want to go into town and get married?” He seemed outwardly calm. Yet by the eager look in his eyes, he was not going to be put off for lo
ng.
“I’ll go to town tomorrow and see about arrangements. Joe is going anyway. Will next week suit?”
Patrick let out a breath and brought her against him. “It will be hard to wait. Yes, that suits me fine.” The feel of his body against hers was hard to resist and she wrapped her arms around his waist and laid her head upon his chest.
The wedding ceremony was simple, with only Jerrick, Joe, Mrs. Delworth, and the Evingtons in attendance. Charlie wore a simple beautiful pale yellow dress she’d purchased premade at the seamstress shop. Lucky for her only a few alterations were needed. She held a bouquet of black-eyed Susans and daisies Mrs. Evington procured for her.
When she walked into the small church, standing next to Preacher Williams, Patrick took her breath. Striking in the bright white shirt, gold vest and black jacket, he kept his dark gaze on her as she made her way down the aisle.
It was hard to hear the preacher’s words over the hum in her ears and the thumping of her heart against her chest. They exchanged vows, Patrick in a strong voice that gave her no reason to doubt his wanting to marry her and she in a softer tone, yet she made sure to keep his gaze, silently letting him know how much she cared for him.
Preacher Williams pronounced them husband and wife. Patrick took her shoulders and kissed her. It was not chaste, but all consuming and full of promise. When chuckles surrounded them, her face flamed with a happy flush.
“Time for cake,” Mrs. Delworth announced and the small group walked toward her small house next to the apothecary.
They rode back to the ranch with leftover cake and a picnic basket consisting of a casserole Mrs. Evington made, rolls, and pot roast Mrs. Delworth packed for them. They didn’t plan a honeymoon, too much to be done at the ranch. Instead, they headed home after both Jerrick and Joe informed them, they planned to remain in town for the next couple days.
Her stomach tumbled at the idea she’d finally be with Patrick, as his wife and lover. Partner for life. Suddenly a horrible thought reared. Oh God, what would happened when Winfrow found out?
Lords of Ireland II Page 57