“Tell me about your family.”
Eirica shook her head. “Someday—maybe. Let’s just say my children will know the love and laughter you had. I made that promise after Birk drowned. But I don’t want to talk about the past. Not now.”
James tightened his arms around her. “All right. Close your eyes now and rest.”
He reached with one hand for the other blanket and covered her. Then to her surprise, he rested his cheek against her hair and sang a soft, sweet love ballad. Eirica gave herself over to her exhaustion. One thought ran through her mind before sleep claimed her. If she married James, she’d have love and laughter and someone who’d set her down in a rocker each evening, rub her aching feet and sing to her.
James watched Eirica sleep, content to just hold her and dream of their future. And as he did, for the first time in a long time, he thought of his parents, of their marriage. Suddenly all their shared looks, flushed cheeks and laughter took on new meaning. Only now did he realize just how happy his parents had been.
He’d grieved for them when they died, but now he knew that it had been best and they’d been happier dying together. They’d been that close, that in love, that he couldn’t imagine either one of them without the other. Somewhere along the way, he’d closed himself off to feeling that himself.
Raising his siblings had made him afraid to be open, afraid he’d forget his responsibilities if he relaxed. Consequently, he’d been hard on his brothers and overprotective of Jessie—all because he feared failing. In his attempt to be both mother and father, to keep the same rules and standards, he’d forgotten the laughter and joy of tossing some of those rules out of the window.
Another memory struck. Late one night, when he’d been sixteen, just months before the accident that had taken his parents’ lives, his ma had come to the room he shared with his brothers. She’d woken him and quietly urged him outside. Jessie had been there, too, in her bare feet. Together, Ma led them to the barn where their favorite dog, Meara, was having puppies.
They’d spent the long night with the dog, coaching her, stroking her and finally, just before dawn, she’d had her litter—four squirming, hungry pups. Jessie had immediately claimed the first-born, a brown-and-black female who looked like Meara. They’d taken the dog and puppies into the kitchen where his ma already had a nice fluffy bed waiting near the stove.
They were all still up, had been up most of the night when his pa and brothers awoke. James had been tired, had known he had a long day ahead of him, but his pa had surprised him by insisting that the three of them go to bed for a few hours. Jessie, unwilling to leave the puppies—her puppy, Jo-Jo—had brought her bedding to the kitchen floor to sleep.
Both Meara and Jo-Jo were now gone: Meara to old age, Jo-Jo to a fatal attack by a coyote, but by then, there’d been another litter of pups. Jessie had kept Sadie, also the first-born.
An hour passed, then two, with James alternating between half-forgotten memories and visions of the future. When he noticed the sun was lowering, he nudged Eirica awake. “Time to wake up, sweetheart. I think there’s going to be three hungry young’uns waiting for us.”
Eirica woke with a start. She’d have bolted upright, but James held her tight. “Shh, easy, we’re not in that much of a hurry. Look.” He pointed to the horizon where all that remained of the sun was a last burst of brilliant red color streaking toward them, shading the world in hues of bright orange to the deepest red. Behind them, to the east, the color faded to a golden yellow with a faint hint of blue-gray.
“Oh, James, what a glorious sunset.”
His lips moved against her hair. “Not as beautiful as you.” He shifted her slightly so he could stare down into her face. Mesmerized, she stared back, her lips parted.
“I want to kiss you,” he whispered.
She caught her lower lip with her teeth. “I think I’d like that.” She lifted her hands to his neck and pulled his mouth to hers.
His kiss started off slowly, a tender melding of flesh. One of his hands cupped the back of her neck, the other caressed the sides of her face and her neck. He stroked down her back as he turned her sideways so that she was cradled in his arms, pulled over his lap. His lips darted from her mouth, slid to her jaw, nibbled their way down her throat to the pulsing hollow there, then back up the smooth, soft skin beneath her chin, full circle back to her parted lips. Her soft sighs and moans fueled his need for more.
This time, he claimed her firmly, a man hungry for the taste of his woman. He angled his head, his mouth slanted over hers as he explored. Even with her kissing him back, moving with him, tasting him as he drank of her, it wasn’t enough. He needed more, much more. Slowly, giving her time to object, he used his tongue, feeling her start of surprise when he traced her lips, then probed a bit deeper, stroking inside, reveling in the moist silky softness of her upper lip. “Open your mouth, Eirica. Let me taste you, all of you.”
Eirica heard the plea in his voice. Hesitantly, she complied. The few times Birk had kissed her this way, he’d brutalized her mouth, left her bruised and bleeding, but James’s kiss left her feeling drugged, lightheaded, ecstatic. And his brief foray into her mouth made her long for more. She wanted to know, to experience with James this intimate form of kissing. James would show her exactly how it should be done.
She pulled him to her, giving him free access. At first, the invasion of his tongue seemed strange, but it also felt right. He moved slowly, giving her notice of his intent as he stroked her along her teeth, the inside of cheeks, the roof of her mouth. Eirica settled back in his embrace and shifted against a deep ache in her belly. Warmth flowed in her veins and pooled between her legs. Suddenly, it wasn’t enough to let him do all the work. Hesitantly, she moved her own tongue, touched his, then retreated. His followed and to her delight, they danced around each other.
His lips moved over her face, her neck, below her ear, leaving her needing more. She wanted him as he’d had her. Tugging his head up by threading her fingers deep in his thick hair, Eirica pulled his mouth to hers and demanded entrance to his mouth. Once there, she tasted, drank and set about chasing and stroking his tongue, and sucking on his lower lip. He groaned, or was it her? She didn’t know, didn’t care.
Their breathing grew heavy, loud. Soft moans, deep groans filled the air. Pulling her mouth from his, she traced the line of his firm jaw with her fingers, kissed the soft spot below his jaw until he tipped her chin and claimed her mouth once more.
As the kissing went on, they grew frantic, their desires deepening. Eirica felt the urge to move her legs, squeeze them together in response to some nameless ache that overwhelmed her. Beneath the blanket, James’s hand trailed down from her throat to the swell of her full breasts. She held her breath, but didn’t stop him. Slowly, his palm cupped her, his warmth sinking through the fabric of her bodice. She gasped for air when his lips moved down her throat, her head resting against him as he shifted her so he could fill both palms with her aching breasts.
Part of her knew she should stop him, stop this madness. They were out in the open, where anyone could wander past, but his tenderness, his gentleness held her enthralled as did the raging needs of her own body. The foreign feelings demanded more. “James, I—I’ve never felt like this.” Again, she shifted her lower body.
He lifted his head, his eyes glazed with emotion and need. But there was nothing there to frighten her. Only pained understanding. “That’s desire, sweetheart. Your body knows what it wants and knows I can give it to you.” He shifted slightly, letting her feel the hard length of his own need. He stroked the side of her face with his hand.
“I ache and throb, just as you do, but there’s no reason to fear me or what you feel. I won’t hurt you. I’ll prove that to you, but not now. When we make love, we’ll be alone, just you and me.” He took a deep breath, rested his forehead against hers. “We’d best stop before I forget my good intentions.”
The thought of him doing more, of somehow easing the throbbing
between her legs, made her moan. She knew full well how’d he’d slake his own needs but wasn’t sure how he could ease hers. With Birk, she’d never felt this powerful urge for more, had never felt anything but shame and humiliation and pain. Would it be the same with James? Would he forget himself in his own blind need and simply use her body as a vessel?
Staring into his face—his eyes—and seeing only love shining there, she knew he wouldn’t. Somehow her body knew he’d show her what real love was between a man and wife.
James leaned down and took her lips in another slow, thorough kiss then stood, pulling her up. He encircled her with his arms, holding her loosely. “Ready?”
“Yes. And James?”
“Yes, sweetheart?”
“You don’t have to worry over Alberik or Dante. They are just trying to be helpful.” Eirica knew that wasn’t entirely true, but she didn’t want to hurt either one of them or cause problems between them and James.
To her surprise, he threw back his head and laughed. “Me, worry about those two pups?” He took her hands in his and brought her fingers to his lips, his eyes twinkling with impish delight that reminded Eirica of his sister. “However, it doesn’t hurt to make sure they understand the way of things,” he added.
Eirica giggled, caught herself and stifled her laughter, recalling Dante’s wry acceptance and Alberik’s endearing readiness to take James on.
James was right. Though she wasn’t sure her future lay with James, she did know that as nice as Dante and Alberik were, she could never feel more than friendship with either younger man. As she and James returned to camp, Eirica rested her hands on her swollen abdomen and let James rest his arm across her shoulders, drawing her close. In that moment, she knew she was ready. Ready to trust again.
A short distance away, concealed beyond the wagons parked for the night, two men threaded through the throng of people, watching the couple walk along the water. They moved among the wagons, careful to keep their presence concealed from the man and woman as they followed from a safe distance. Zeb fingered his scarred cheek and nervously watched the man beside him. “That yer wife?”
“That bastard. He’s dead,” Birk growled.
Zeb wasn’t sure if it was the same woman who’d haunted his dreams. They’d been too far for him to know for sure, but Birk had claimed it was his wife the moment they’d seen her standing in the other man’s arms, kissing him. Zeb eyed the woman’s pregnant belly. She looked ready to pop.
He glanced at Birk, wondering if he’d made the right decision to leave his buddies in order to seek revenge. Birk Macauley was mean as billy hell and Zeb felt like a dog caught in the dough. He doubted this man would actually share his wife, especially after seeing his reaction to the sight of her kissing another man.
But it didn’t really matter. Zeb was in it now and he’d make sure he looked after his own interest. After he and Birk got his wife and that breed’s woman, Zeb would take care of Birk. The man was a lazy drunk, boastful and filled with self-righteous complaints and indignation. Zeb was tired of listening to him. Birk cared only for Birk and that was okay with Zeb. To each his own. Again he fingered his scar. But them women owed him and he planned to collect—from at least one of them.
Aware of Birk’s growing fury, Zeb pulled him away, noting that the couple had disappeared from view. “Ya can’t do nothin’ now. At least we’s caught up with them. Now we jest has ta follow and wait.”
Birk shook him off. “Did ya see that? She kissed him. She’s my wife. Nobody else touches her.”
Zeb lifted a brow. “Not even me?”
The violent rage lessened from Birk’s eyes. “Only ya. Only who I says and only one night, just to teach that bitch a lesson she’ll never forget.”
Zeb didn’t believe him, but that was okay. He’d get his and Birk would get what he deserved as well. Deciding he needed to get the man away from his wife and her lover, he stated, “We’s takin’ the sublet cutoff. With that herd of cattle, your wife’s party will head southeast, by way of Fort Bridger. We can git ahead of ’em. And travelin’ faster, we’ll have time to plan afore the two trails meet back up.”
“I ain’t gonna let that bitch outta my sight.”
“You goin’ to risk havin’ them or someone else spot ya and warn ’em? If we split off and git ahead, we can watch fer ’em, check out the trail for places to nab her and that breed’s woman. Don’t let yer anger ruin everything.”
Birk considered Zeb’s suggestion. “Yer right. She ain’t goin’ anywhere. We’ll go ahead and wait fer ’em.” He stormed off, heading back to where they’d left the pack mules, muttering, “He’s gonna die. He’s a dead man.”
Zeb followed slowly to give the other man a chance to calm down. He rubbed his hands together and formulated his own plans. First, he’d get Birk drunk enough to pass out, then he’d go in search of the woman and see if she was his angel. He fingered the knife on his belt, knowing he had to watch his back.
Chapter Twelve
“Beans, woman, beans. Good food, tha’s what them boys need, not yer fancy noodles,” Rook bellowed at Sofia. She ignored him and continued slicing her dough into long strips and hanging them over strung line to dry.
Using a thick wooden dowel, she rolled out another chunk of dough. Adding the last of the noodles to the rest of the drying strands, she turned. “The men like my noodles. Don’t you ever get tired of beans, rice and pork, day after day, meal after meal? Have pity on those poor men. Now, why don’t you go sit and rest? Catarina, Coralie and I can handle the rest of the meal.”
“Rest? Rest! That’s all I’ve been doin’, woman. This is my domain and yer interferin’.” Even as Rook shouted, he eyed the sauce bubbling in the huge pots with interest. He couldn’t stop himself from sniffing. To cover his interest, he scowled and poked a wooden spoon into the pot and drew it out for a taste. His stomach rumbled in response to the spicy meat broth. “Fancy. Damn fancy cookin’.”
“But it tastes wonderful.” Coralie peered over his shoulder.
He lowered his brows. “Ain’t ya got somethin’ ta do, lass?”
“Yes, I do. Bread.” She sauntered off, oblivious to the three pairs of identical grimaces.
Rook turned to Sofia. “Ya goin’ a let her ruin—ah—bake the bread, again?”
Sofia winced. “How can I tell her no?”
“Please, nonna,” Catarina begged, you’ve got to do something.”
Rook smirked. “Yer grandma here insists she can learn with practice.”
“And the poor ragazza will learn, with more practice.” But even her voice lost its confidence. “Lots more practice,” she muttered, shaking her head.
“Well, it’ll be burned, doughy, flat or heavy as a rock unless one of us does something.” With that pronouncement, Catarina went to where Coralie was dumping flour into a bowl.
Rook chuckled when he heard the girl ordering Coralie to measure carefully. He turned to Sofia. “Yer granddaughter is a right fine young woman.”
Sofia lifted one brow. “A compliment? From you?” A smile wreathed her face, taking the sting of sarcasm from her words.
Staring at this woman who matched him in height, and nearly in girth, Rook’s lips twitched. Since she’d joined Wolf’s party, his life had turned very lively. With a start he realized he enjoyed sparring with Sofia. The woman gave as good as she got and kept him on his toes, even if she had the unfortunate and irritating habit of sticking her nose in where it wasn’t wanted. And she did have a nose on her. Studying her, he couldn’t help but compare her to Annabelle, who’d been small and dainty with a face as delicate as Sofia’s was strong. Still, everything about Sofia fit her. Her height, her ampleness, the strength of her features. She was a force to be reckoned with.
Of course that didn’t mean he’d stand by and let the woman boss him around and take over. Nope. This was still his territory and even one-armed, with his wrist broken, he could still do his job. He glared at his bandaged arm resting uselessly in the
sling Sofia insisted he wear.
Ignoring Sofia, he set out a couple of pans over the fire and tossed slabs of pork on to cook. It rankled that the men did indeed seem to prefer her fancy noodles and stews but he was paid to do a job and cook he would: good, hearty, stick-to-your-ribs fare.
Jessie and her brother Jeremy arrived. Without bothering to find out what they wanted, Rook set them to work before Sofia could nab them. The threesome chatted until Jeremy whistled a low catcall.
“Cooeee, will ya look at that?”
Rook and Jessie both turned their heads to see James, his arm around Eirica’s shoulders as he escorted her back to her wagon where Wolf had the three children sitting in front of him as he told them a story, using lots of hand motions. Ian had fallen asleep in his lap, Lara leaned on one side of him, her thumb in her mouth, and Alison sat in front of him, her eyes wide.
“Think our brother’s gonna get himself hitched?”
“I hope so,” Jessie sighed softly.
Rook grunted, though he agreed the couple looked mighty fine together. Butting in as usual, Sofia joined them. “Ah, they are in love. That boy will make a fine husband and father.”
All watched James take Ian and put him to bed, then to the amazement of all, he started a fire and unpacked the Macauleys’ box of foodstuffs while Eirica took her daughters down to the water to bathe.
“She’s letting him cook supper? Wow.” Jessie watched openmouthed.
Rook, distracted by the other pair, smelled burning. Spinning around, he frantically turned the meat. “Now look what the lot of ya made me do? Blathering on and such.” But he couldn’t help sneaking another glance at James. His bushy beard hid his pleased grin. Them two would make it. The lad was just what the lass and them young’uns of hers needed.
He jerked around when he heard Sofia order Jeremy and Jessie to do some chore. Glaring at her, he pointed the knife he used to turn the meat over to brown. “I already gave them work ta do.”
Sofia narrowed her brown eyes and folded her arms across her ample bosom. “You can have the boy. I’ll take Jessie.”
White Nights Page 17