by Everly West
Crossing his arms over his chest, he stared at her, knowing she wasn't going to like what he had to say. But going back out into a blizzard and trying to carry her trunk was not something he was up to tonight. She would have to wait.
"I'm not going back out in that snow. I'm cold. I'm tired. You can wear one of my pants and a shirt."
A glare sparkled from her sapphire eyes, her mouth opening in shock. "Your clothes!" Her voice rose. "You want me to wear your clothes?"
"Or you can go without," he said sarcastically, the words slipping into the open as a grin spread across his face, his heart beating rapidly at the thought. They were married, but he knew she would never take him up on that offer.
Crossing her arms over her chest, she cocked her head, her brows rising. "Thirty days, Mr. Jackson. Then we will recommit to one another verbally that this is what we want."
"Honey, I say we do it in fifteen."
"How about thirty-five days?"
Why did this suddenly feel like a challenge. Like he wanted to show her he could convince her to become his wife in fewer than thirty days.
He stepped closer to her. "We'll stick with your thirty days unless I convince you otherwise. And let me warn you, Mrs. Jackson, I'm going to do my best to show my lovely bride that fate brought us together. We're going to be married a long time and we're going to consummate this marriage in less than thirty days. But I'll let you decide when you're ready."
Her eyes grew wide as she stared at him and he smiled as he pulled her into his arms. "And since I didn't claim my kiss at the ceremony, I'm going to do so now."
All while they said their vows, he gazed at her lips, wondering how they would feel, their taste. Now, he no longer had to wait.
Tilting her chin up, he slowly brought his lips down to hers, watching as she squinted her eyes closed. As his mouth claimed hers, he could tell his bride had never been kissed as her body was stiff.
Almost laughing, he tried to show her the pleasures of kissing as his mouth moved over hers teasing her with his tongue, his hands gripping her face. Warmth spread like fire through him and he wanted to do more than just kiss his wife but feared it would scare her. With a deep sigh, she relaxed against him.
It was then he released her and stepped back, watching as she opened her eyes, a dazed expression on her face.
He laughed, easing the tension and knowing this was going to be a long night. "You can have the bedroom and I'll sleep out here on the couch. That way I can keep the fire going all night, and hopefully, we'll stay warm."
The thought of her sleeping under his blankets filled him with thoughts of how much he'd like to join her in that big bed, but he had to take things slow or frighten his innocent wife.
And he didn't want to send her running. He'd waited a long time for a wife and he longed for a loving union. Hopefully, so did Anna.
She shook her head. "I don't have a nightgown. I have nothing in here with me."
It was all he could do to suppress the groan deep in his throat. The thought of his wife naked had his blood racing.
"I should have thought about your trunk. But frankly, I was just thrilled to get us safely to the house. That last mile, I was worried we weren't going to make it." He gazed at her. "I'll get you a shirt. We'll hang your dress next to the fire, and by morning, it'll be dry. Tomorrow, I'll try to bring in your trunk.
"Now you need to get out of that wet dress," he said, giving her a look that he hoped she understood. There would be no compromise on her wearing wet clothes.
Anna stood in his chilly bedroom after the door had closed and glanced around. It wasn't a bad room. In fact, it was cleaner than she'd expected. Small, neat, and organized. She gazed at the clothes he'd laid on the bed for her. A man's pair of pants and a dark shirt. The southern belle had gone from fine ballgowns to men’s clothing.
Shivering, she knew he was right. Being cold in these wet clothes could not be good for her, but neither could running around in a man's shirt and pants. They didn't even know one another, and she was going to be wearing clothing more revealing than her dresses.
Reaching behind her, she struggled to undo the buttons on her dress. How she missed her maid, her nanny, and her servants. When the bombing began, her maid disappeared. When the money dried up, the servants left. When the soldiers appeared, the last of her staff walked away. And now, here she was on the other side of the country, alone.
There was no way she was going out there and asking him to unbutton her clothing. That would be like asking him to take her to bed. Even though he was her husband, she felt awkward, especially after that kiss.
The last time a boy kissed her was in grade school when Billy Jones sneaked up on her. She'd drawn back her fists and socked him, giving him a black eye. Never again had he bothered her.
She shivered. When the top two buttons were loose, she pulled the wet garment up and tugged it over her breasts where it clung, refusing to move farther. Oh my, she was stuck, with no one to help. She'd stay tangled in her clothes forever before she would call him to help her. With a ripping sound, the garment finally came over her head, knocking the pins from her hair. "Oh, fiddlesticks."
"You okay in there?" he called.
Quickly, she held the dress in front of her in case he opened the door, her heart beating hard in her chest. "Fine."
Sinking onto the bed, she looked at the seam she'd ripped. With a little ingenuity it could be fixed.
What was she doing here? What compelled her to desert everything she knew and loved behind?
Taking a deep breath, she released the nerves that threatened to overwhelm her. Tears swelled in her eyes, but she refused to cry.
Sighing, she removed her wet corset. Her pantaloons and chemise were still relatively dry, so she left them on. But the dress was soaked where she'd fallen in the snow. Sometimes she was her own worst enemy.
As she put one leg into his pants, she smiled, trying to bolster her courage. If only her friends could see her now, they'd think she'd lost her mind. Tugging his shirt over her chemise, she sighed, then breathed in the smell of Levi as warmth filled her.
Moving about the room, she couldn't help but feel the freedom of wearing pants. Still, the belle in her felt like a ragamuffin on her wedding night.
Walking to the door, she felt naked, vulnerable, and nervous, and reminded herself again, she could do this.
Yanking open the door to the bedroom, her stomach quivered as she glanced at Levi, determined not to let him make her feel more uncomfortable.
Stepping out with her sodden garments in front of her like a shield, she hurried to a line he'd strung near the fireplace. Quickly, she hung the clothes where, hopefully, they'd soon dry so she could put her dress back on.
Levi stood near the fire. His eyes widened as he skimmed her apparel. Clearing his throat, he swallowed.
"They look better on you than me," he said, his voice sounding gruff.
Awkwardly, she glanced at him. "Thanks, I guess."
He nodded toward the kitchen. "I made a fresh pot of coffee. I thought maybe it might warm you up."
"Thank you."
"There's cups on the shelf and sugar in the bowl," he said. "I'll fix a pot of stew for supper if that's okay?"
She nodded, unable to think about eating as she found the cups and fixed herself a mug of the hot brew. Turning, she picked up her coffee and came closer to the fire.
A small couch sat in front, and she sank onto the sofa, feeling uncomfortable as the rough material of his pants scratched her tender thighs. The cotton shirt felt soft against her chemise and smelled like him. A warm, rich aroma of clean man. She licked her lips, her hands shaking from nerves that left her rattled.
"It's going to take a while to get used to one another."
He was right, but she knew nothing about this man and yet she had to trust him. Worse, she wasn't certain he even liked her. Yet, they were married and he'd said the sweetest thing to her at the altar. Though glancing at him now, she c
aught him gazing at her in a way that left her feeling a little awkward.
"I'm sorry for dawdling at the church," she said softly. "I had no idea it would be this bad."
Nodding was the only indication he'd heard her. The man was insufferable. He spoke very little, only bobbing his head, not moving his mouth to the point she wanted to scream at him "Talk to me. Tell me what, if anything, you're thinking under that dark mop of gorgeous hair."
His jewel eyes revealed more than his words, and even those she sometimes had a hard time understanding.
She was tired. She was frustrated. She was still grieving, and now she was stuck in a cabin with a man she didn't know, who barely spoke while a snowstorm raged outside.
"Traveling in snow like that will get you killed."
Tears rose in her eyes threatening to fall like an avalanche, the pain of the past months overwhelming her causing her chest to ache from the unfairness of life. Instead, she was here in this stupid little house, frightened and exhausted, and it was all too much.
"Well, we don't have this kind of snow in Charleston. How am I to know how dangerous today's storm could be? I'm completely out of my element here. I'm used to palm trees, not blizzards."
To her horror, the first tear leaked out of her eye and then another, and another, and soon she covered her face and let the sobs rack her body. She shouldn't be here. She was Anna Tuttle, heiress to a newspaper, and instead, she was reduced to a blubbering mess dressed in men's clothes, in a cabin with a strange man who was her husband.
She wailed even louder, unable to stop the pain that engulfed her.
She felt his hand on her back and then he was pulling her into his arms, laying her head on his shoulder. "Hey, what brought all this on? We're alive. We're safe. We're married."
Hiccupping, she tried to stop the tears. "I know. I'm sorry, but it's all so new. My life is completely different here." A new round of gut-wrenching sobs hit her at the unfairness of the world. After living in a home in the upper echelon of Charlotte society, she found herself in a four-room ranch shack.
And her new husband had no idea she didn't know how to cook or clean or do anything that the servants had done. After all, there was no reason for her to learn household chores. She would always have servants. Only, she didn't.
She'd been a good girl her entire life, and now because some Yankee colonel stole her family newspaper, she was broke and a mail-order bride.
She could feel her breasts squashed against his chest and his hand was rubbing her back as he held her in his arms. Tears ran unchecked down her cheeks soaking his shirt and her nose was running. She hated it when she cried because now her face would be all red, her eyes swollen, and she'd have the sniffles.
Leaning on him felt good. He smelled nice and manly, and holding onto him while she cried, he seemed strong. Her fingers stroked his back and suddenly she felt him tense.
"All better now?" he asked, moving away putting distance between them.
Nodding, she glanced away. Levi Jackson was a strong viral man who captured her interest, but could he come to love a newspaper heiress who had lost everything.
Chapter 3
The next morning, Levi lay on the couch, listening to the wind howl and rattle the shutters outside. At times, he feared the roof shingles would fly off. And the snow continued to fall. He didn't know how much accumulation they'd received last night, but it had to be at least a foot if not more. The storm was nothing compared to the danger he realized he was in last evening.
Holding Anna in his arms had been a mistake. The feel of her soft breasts against his chest, the smell of roses and lavender swirling, took him by surprise as his body reacted to her while she cried.
And to think he'd been part of her anguish made his stomach tighten with pain. Sure, she looked and acted a little like a princess, but she would soon learn that this wasn't South Carolina and there were responsibilities of living on a working ranch.
After he chose her, he became highly concerned. Could he turn the city girl into a ranching woman? One capable of handling the daily life of living out of town. If anything, she was more beautiful, more accomplished, than the woman he expected. And so far above him on the social scale, they couldn't compare.
Every morning before he rose, he said a little prayer for his family, remembering his mother, father, and sister, and vowed to always make them proud.
If he'd been home, he would have died with them. And maybe that would have been easier than picking up the pieces and leaving without them. All he'd known was that he had to leave, or he would have killed the people who’d murdered his family.
Now five years later, he had a ranch, cattle, a home and everything for a good life, but he didn't have anyone to share the life he loved with him.
Since moving to Angel Creek, he enjoyed working his ranch, the small town, and the people there. Now, he had a woman, though she wasn't what he expected. She wasn't hard on the eyes and she smelled so good, it had been hard not to taste her.
The image of her curled up and sleeping in his bed was something he kept pushing out of his mind. The sight of her wearing his pants and shirt would haunt him forever. Her shapely, long limbs and perfectly curved butt filled out his pants in a way he could never imitate.
While a storm raged outside, the woman was a temptation he had to endure sleeping in the next room.
Without looking outside, he knew they would not be leaving the house today except to feed the cattle. Probably not even tomorrow, and they still had twenty-nine days to go. This would be the longest month of his life.
Sitting up, knowing he might as well rise and tend to the animals, he quickly donned his pants, shoving his shirt tails inside. He threw another log on the fire and stoked the small flame until it roared, heating the room. Just as he was about to head out, the door to the bedroom opened.
"Good morning. I didn't expect to see you this early," he said.
"Couldn't sleep," she replied, gazing at him, her luscious blue eyes sleepy and somehow so alluring that he wanted to grab her and drag her back to the bedroom.
They stared at one another and she licked her lips and he wanted to groan.
"Why don't you fix some coffee while I tend to the animals," he said. The cold would be a welcome blast to tame the heat filling his body. He couldn't stay around her every minute of the day. He had to escape the sensual pull of her body.
"Are we going to town today?"
Why did she want to go to town? He hated to disappoint her, but he didn't think there was a chance in hell they could get down the road, even with the sleigh. "I haven't checked outside, but the wind is still howling."
Pulling his on heavy coat and boots, he bundled up and walked to the door. Yanking it open, he stared in stunned disbelief. The snow was halfway up the door and the wind blew a swirling mass of nothing but white. He still couldn't see the barn.
"What have I done?” she said. “I've never seen so much snow."
This could be a problem. After all, they still had the worst of winter to get through and if she couldn't handle this, how would she take it when they only had a tunnel between the house and the barn? His southern belle had the worst of winter yet to come.
The urge to take her in his arms was strong, but he couldn't. Not now. "Anna, fix some coffee and I'll be back soon. Then we'll talk about what we're going to do."
Sighing heavily, she faced him. "I'll have it ready when you come back. Be careful."
Warmth filled him as he smiled at her. "Always."
He hurried out the door, slamming it behind him, pushing through the drift.
She was right, but he wasn't ready to face the consequences of the weather. Spending the day inside with his beautiful, untouchable wife...might have him running into the snow to cool down. Was she ready to give up before they even started? Would she try to take the first stage out of town?
Anna glanced up from the coffee she'd been pouring when Levi walked through the door, carrying her trunk. She r
an to the opening and shut it after he struggled through.
"My trunk," she said happily, following him into the bedroom where he dropped her luggage. Without thinking, she threw her arms around him, ecstatic that her things were within reach and she could change out of his pants and shirt. The feel of his chest solid against her breasts had her realizing her mistake.
A stinging crackle of sensation along her spine had her catching and holding her breath. Quickly, she jumped, stumbling back and he grabbed her arm to keep her from falling onto the bed.
"Oh my," she said startled. "I guess, I got a little over excited."
They stood in the bedroom, the bed inches from them, staring at each other awkwardly, her heart hammering in her chest at the feel of his hand on her arm. The tight grip of heat flowed through her from his cold fingers.
"Your hands are like ice," she blundered, searching for something to say that would distract him from the sight of the rumpled sheets. The image of the two of them curled around one another in that bed had her heart cathunking in her chest like exploding bombs rattling the building.
He released her.
"Yes," he said, a muscle in his jaw ticking, his eyes darkening, creating an emotion in her she'd never experienced. His body stiffened as he turned and walked out of the room.
As she shut the door behind him, she thought he acted a little strange when she threw her arms around his chest. It was a hug of gratitude, but he seemed too tense from the feel of her body against his. Had she made him angry?
Opening her trunk, she quickly changed her clothes, putting on a clean dress and undergarments. The only thing that would have made her feel better was a hot bath, but that would have to wait. And how did she take a bath in his home?
Before, her servants always brought up the tub and the hot water, but here would she have to lug pails of water? So many new things. So different from her mansion on the hill.
After she finished pinning her hair on top of her head, she opened the door. Levi was in the kitchen cooking breakfast. "Do you like eggs?"