by Laura Drewry
“What?” Lucy leaned against her rake.
Jed gave his head a quick shake. How long had he been staring at her?
“How do you know this is going to work?” She nodded to the yard around them, then looked directly at him; not with one of her sly smiles or seductive looks, but simple curiosity.
Jed offered her his best smile. “Because we’ll damn well make it work, that’s how.”
When she grinned back, he continued, suddenly desperate to convince her he was right. “Hard work can make pretty much anything happen, Lucy, just so long as we don’t back down from it and don’t let anyone convince us otherwise.”
She nodded slowly. “I understand that,” she said. “But given the type of ground we’re clearing here, what do you expect the herd to eat when it arrives?”
“Grass of course.” He pointed south, toward the main pasture. “There’s plenty of grass out there on the other side of the creek.”
“Will you take me there?”
“One day.”
He shot her a wink and she smiled back, but as usual, it didn’t reach her eyes. After a moment, she ladled him a cup of water, then waited for him to finish before she drank herself.
“Do you have other family besides Maggie?” she asked.
Jed shrugged as nonchalantly as he could. “Ma died about ten years back.”
“And your father?” She sliced off another large chunk of the prickly pear she’d been cutting down and tossed it aside.
Jed reached for the water bucket, filled and emptied his mug twice before he managed to chase the bile back down his throat.
“Haven’t spoken to him since Ma died.” He swiped his forearm across his mouth before adding, “But didn’t speak much before then, either.”
“Why?”
“Nothing to say I guess.” That was true enough, but for two men who didn’t have anything to say, they’d sure done a lot of yelling.
“Does he live around here?” She stopped now, too, her brow furrowed, her eyes watching him ever so carefully.
“Dunno.” Jed retrieved the axe and set back to work. “Last I heard he was still living on the farm near Helena.”
“Montana?”
He nodded shortly. Montana – big as that damned territory was, it wasn’t near big enough for both him and his father.
“My goodness,” she said softly. “You’re a long way from home, Jed Caine.”
“Nope.” He brought the axe down in a long swift slice that left the remaining cactus split in two. “I’ve finally found my home.”
o0o
With the animals fed and watered, Jed washed quickly at the creek, then made his way back out to the fire. Did he dare hope for another meal like he’d had at breakfast?
The fire snapped and sparked, but Lucy was nowhere to be seen. Neither were any pots, pans or other dishes. Fear sliced through him.
Deacon.
He made it to the barn in less time than it took him to think the name. He slammed open the door and charged inside, his blood thrashing through his veins. Fighting to see through the gloom, he finally made out her form after what seemed like forever.
Lucy lay curled up on the straw tick, tucked beneath the gray blanket. Her steady soft breathing calmed the paralyzing fear that froze Jed inside the door. A wayward piece of straw had worked its way through her hair, and another poked through just below her nose, fluttering back and forth against her breath.
A lifetime passed before Jed’s heart slowed to a normal beat. A second lifetime passed before he could pull his gaze away from her. She’d never looked so beautiful as she did then. Her face smudged with dirt and God knew what else, her hair tangled half in, half out of its knot, and her soft full lips opened slightly in sleep.
Jed wanted to kick himself. Lucy had worked like a dog all day, and still he’d expected her to make supper.
That was no way to treat his woman. She needed her rest. And she needed to eat if she was to keep up her strength.
Despite the fact Jed’s hunger had spun from wanting food to wanting Lucy, he couldn’t touch her. He wouldn’t be that kind of man. Respectable men controlled their urges. And God help him, he’d learn how to control his.
He gathered the things he needed and crept back outside. Wouldn’t be a great meal, but it’d be better than nothing.
He dug around in the corner of the barn until he found some dried meat and a few left over potatoes. Even though most of their food supplies were kept on shelves either in the house or the barn, he’d have to get a proper storage room built soon. They’d been fairly lucky so far, but it was only a matter of time before the mice and other vermin started helping themselves.
Miss Blake was bent over the fire when he stepped outside again.
“Hello, Mr. Caine,” she said. “I was just going to make Maggie some supper. I’d be happy to make yours and Mrs. Caine’s as well.”
The offer was almost too good to pass up, but Jed forced it out.
“That’s mighty kind of you, ma’am, but I can manage. It’s enough that you’re caring for Maggie.”
“Poor girl,” Berta tsked. “She can’t have long to go before that baby comes, yet she’s so thin.”
Jed nodded. “I was hopin’ you could do something about that. Even before Lucy came, I couldn’t get Maggie to eat much more than bread and cheese.”
The woman’s brow puckered. “That’s something, but I do wish I could get her to eat more, especially more meat and vegetables.”
Jed held up the potatoes he’d brought out of the barn. “Until we get a garden going, I’m afraid this is the best I can offer.”
Berta offered a small smile. “She told me she won’t eat potatoes. But if you have any meat. . .”
“Only this.” He handed her the dried meat, but she shook her head. “Not all of it. She’ll never eat that much.”
Jed chewed the inside of his cheek for a moment. “Do you think we ought to bring Doc Billings out?”
Berta stirred the pot of beans she’d been warming. “The baby is still active, and that’s an excellent sign. I doubt there’s anything the doctor can do, but if you think it would make Maggie feel better, then by all means.”
“The only thing that’ll make her feel better is Sam walking down that road again.” He sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. “And you and I both know that’s not going to happen.”
Berta didn’t reply, but set to filling Maggie’s plate with beans and the dried meat Jed had given her.
“I’ll clean up,” he said. “Thank you, again, for coming out to help. I know this isn’t what you had in mind.”
She looked straight back at him, her eyes steady for the first time since she arrived. “I told you I’d do whatever I could to help Mrs. Caine, and if this is what will help her, I’m happy to do it.”
Jed watched Berta disappear back into the cabin. Why the hell would she be so set on helping Lucy? They’d never met until the auction.
Women. Who could understand them?
He scrubbed the potatoes clean, then chopped them into a pot of water and set them to boil. The dried meat might not be very tasty, but it would do for now.
Tomorrow he’d have to go find something fresh.
When the potatoes were done, he filled two plates and carried them back into the house. Lucy remained exactly as he’d left her. He ducked back out for the water bucket and filled them each a cup.
When he couldn’t think of anything else to do to keep away from her, he crouched beside the pile of straw she’d formed into a mattress and pulled the straw from her hair.
“Lucy,” he whispered. “Supper’s ready.”
She didn’t move.
“Lucy,” he said again, slightly louder. Nothing.
“Hey.” He rubbed the back of his hand against her cheek, loving the silkiness of her skin, and amazed at its coolness.
She moved slightly, pressing her cheek against his hand, but her eyes remained closed, her breathing even.
&
nbsp; “Wake up,” he murmured, then leaned closer and pressed his lips against her cheek, exactly where his hand had been a moment before. “Lucy.”
“Mmm.” Stretching slightly, she twisted her face around until it lay directly under his; a mere breath separating their noses.
Jed didn’t even hesitate. He should have, but he didn’t. He couldn’t.
His lips brushed hers once, then twice. The third time, she moved beneath him, whimpered softly, and opened up to him.
He couldn’t get enough; her taste, her smoothness, and her soft, dizzying moans. He kissed her slowly, savoring each moment, pulling her toward him, in both mind and body.
She woke gradually, as if resisting it, but even half asleep, her response to his kisses drove him to his knees. Her fingers poked out from beneath the blanket and twisted around the front of his shirt, holding him close, as if afraid he’d leave.
He smiled against her mouth. “You’re awake.”
“No,” she breathed. “I’m still dreaming.”
He kissed her still-closed eyes, the tip of her nose, and her chin. But when she whimpered again, he cupped her face between his hands and caressed her lips with his, demanding more, begging for more.
His breathing came in ragged gasps, his heart thrashing against his ribs with enough force to break them.
He pulled back enough to look at her; her lips were moist and swollen from his kisses, her fingers clenched in his shirt, and her eyes beginning to flutter open.
“I made supper,” he whispered.
“Mmm.” Finally, her eyes opened. “I’m too tired to eat.”
Jed smiled. For a minute there, something washed over his heart that he couldn’t be sure about, but it was better than anything he’d felt before.
“Come on.” He eased her up to a sitting position, but she immediately slipped over.
“I just want to sleep,” she muttered, reaching for the blanket again.
“Okay,” he agreed with a sigh. “Keep your blanket.”
As gently as he could, he helped Lucy sit up against the wall.
“There.” He retrieved the plates from the floor and crawled up onto bed beside her. With her plate balanced on her lap, he handed her a fork and set to work on his own supper, now almost cold.
Lucy just sat there, watching him through half-closed eyes and smiling softly.
“Eat up,” he teased. “Today was nothing. Wait ‘til you see what I have planned for tomorrow.”
“Can’t wait,” she mumbled. “But I think I need to spend tomorrow collecting chips.”
Jed choked on a mouthful of potato. “Oh no,” he laughed. “You’re not getting out of work that easily.”
“Please?” She started to lean sideways, so he propped her up again.
By the time he’d finished inhaling his supper, she hadn’t lifted her fork once. So he did it for her. The dried meat was a waste of time – he should have boiled it, too - but he managed to get a few forkfuls of potatoes into her before finally giving up and moving the plates back to the floor.
Lucy closed her eyes again, but Jed knew she wasn’t asleep. Not yet, anyway.
“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” he murmured, easing her back down onto the bed. “I didn’t mean to work you so hard today.”
“Lie with me.” Her voice was barely audible, but each word screamed right to Jed’s aching conscience. He shouldn’t.
In his next breath, he stretched out behind her, and pulled her back against him. Prickly straw be damned – he’d lie there every night if it meant he could hold her like this.
Lucy snuggled deeper into her blanket and nudged her way against him until he folded her beneath his arm and sighed into her hair.
He kissed the back of her ear and sighed. “Sleep well, Lucy.”
“Mmm.”
I sure as hell won’t.
It didn’t matter, though. All that mattered was his woman tucked up in his arms, sleeping soundly without a care in the world. All that mattered was he’d begun to feel something deeper and definite for his wife.
And all that mattered was hoping someday, somehow, she could feel the same for him.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
By the end of the following week, Jed had made a decision. His wife deserved a day off - and damn it, he was going to give her one.
He’d lain awake most of the night again, battling his wants. Part of him wanted to wake Lucy up and make love to her for a month straight. But the other part of him wanted to stay exactly as he was because she felt so damned good right where she was.
He only hoped there was enough blanket between them that his painfully hard want was well hidden.
Lucy sighed, stretched, and turned to face him.
“Good morning,” she smiled lazily.
Didn’t seem right that she could look so disgusting and so amazing all at the same time.
“Sleep well?” he asked, between kissing her brow and eyes.
“Mmm.” Another stretch. “You?”
“No.” He buried his face in her hair and laughed, though it came out more like a ragged cry.
For the first time since he’d met her, Lucy laughed a real laugh, not her usual forced, cynical or disbelieving one. The sound sang in his ears and danced across his heart.
“It’s your own fault,” she said, tipping her head so he could nuzzle her neck – which he did, gladly.
“My fault?” He kissed the back of her ear. “It wasn’t my snoring that nearly collapsed the walls.”
“What?” Lucy sat bolt up and shoved him hard. “I don’t snore!”
Jed rolled onto his back and laughed. “There was only you and me here, darlin’, and since I was awake most of the night, I know it wasn’t me making that noise.”
In a whoosh of speed, she jumped off the bed and gathered the blanket around her. She was trying hard to look offended, but her eyes sparkled with laughter.
“You, dear husband, deserve every sleepless minute of agony you had to live through last night.” She swept the blanket dramatically over one shoulder. “Now get out so I can dress.”
The thought of staying to watch glued him to where he lay sprawled on the bed, but the second she moved to drop the blanket, he jumped off like a shot and raced for the safety of outside. A man could only take so much.
“Coward,” she called as he slammed the door behind himself.
“Damn right.” He rubbed both hands against his face and dragged in half a dozen long breaths before he moved again.
Coffee. Lots of coffee. And the stronger the better.
By the time she emerged from the barn, blanket in tow, he’d just poured his first cup.
Sleep lingered in her movements, her body not fully awake yet, and her eyes blinked hard against the glare of the morning sun.
“Shall we try this again?” she asked with a teasing smile. “Good morning, Jed. How did you sleep?”
She pressed a small kiss against his cheek before wrinkling her nose at his mug of steaming coffee.
Jed resisted the urge to pull her back for a better kiss. No matter how often he looked at her, the desire to touch never lessened – even when she looked like a shapeless lump with that blanket hanging around her.
“Slept like a baby.” He grinned back. “Never better.”
“Glad to hear it.” She laughed again – the same genuine laugh as earlier – and all Jed could do was stare at her.
How the hell did he ever get so lucky? Of all the men she could have chosen, of all the men who would have sold their souls to be her husband, she’d picked him.
It still nettled him that he wouldn’t be her first, but at least he had the comfort in knowing he’d be her last. No other man would ever touch his Lucy again.
“I made tea,” he said when he’d found his tongue again. “Don’t know why I didn’t think of it sooner.”
If he expected her to jump up and down with excitement, he was sorely disappointed. In fact, she almost looked confused.
“You have h
ad tea before, haven’t you?”
“No,” she laughed softly. “But if it smells anything like that mud you drink, I’ll have to decline.”
Jed shook his head in mock disappointment.
There was a change in her he couldn’t quite pin, but it was good. No, it was amazing. She was amazing.
“Try this.” He poured a mug of tea, added a spoonful of sugar and handed it to her.
She eyed it warily, then him, but accepted the mug and lifted it to her nose. Her first sniff eased some of the doubt from her frown. After the second sniff, she kept the mug close to her nose. And the third sniff finally convinced her to try a sip.
As she lifted it to her lips, a whippoorwill cried sharply from the roof of the house.
“Caref--,” Jed began, but it was too late.
“Yow!” Lucy slopped half the tea into the fire in her haste to get it away from her tongue.
“It’s hot,” he finished on a lame note.
“Thanks for the warning.” Using the corner of the blanket, she wiped the sloshed tea from her chin while carefully balancing the mug in her other hand.
He tried not to laugh, he really did. But how could he not?
“Thought the steam would have been a pretty clear warning,” he chuckled over the rim of his mug.
Fire snapped back to life in Lucy’s eyes. Her mouth opened, for what Jed was sure would be an angry retort. But instead, she closed it again and smiled.
“Okay,” she answered. “You win. But I’m not even half awake yet – how can I think clearly?”
“It’s tea. It’s supposed to help you wake up.”
“It is?”
Jed shook his head slowly, and even as he spoke the words, he regretted each one. “How can you not know these things?”
Lucy’s smile faded, and her eyes hardened. “Just stupid, I guess.”
“Lucy.” He stepped closer. “That’s not what I meant.”
She didn’t answer, but stood with her face turned toward the fire. Jed reached over and plucked a piece of straw from the blanket. He held it a long moment before dropping it into the fire.
“I’ve just never met anyone who never tasted coffee or tea before.” Jed shrugged out his apology. “Doesn’t mean you’re stupid.”