The Gift-Wrapped Groom

by M. J. Rodgers

  She shivered with the rippling heat of his tongue and lips and the nips of his teeth against the sensitive nerve endings that sent deep quivers all the way down the back of her legs. She arched against him as his burning hands lifted her sweater to claim the bare skin of her back, in great sweeps of hot, firm caresses.

  And then his words, equally hot and firm, began to roll through her, standing every hair on her body on end and then singeing it off. They were sexy, ravenous words that slid into her ears, melting their way down her spine, liquefying it and her ligaments into a pool of boiling, bubbling desire.

  She did not understand even one of those words because they were all Russian words. And yet, somehow, she understood every one in the reactions that vibrated through her body. They were growling, sexy sounds and every yearning inch of her was hot and wet with them.

  His hands found her breasts, and he told her how beautiful and sweet and perfect they were with those low, breathless, growly sounds and her nipples rose hot and ripe beneath his touch. His lips followed his hands. He kissed her nipples and ran his hot, moist tongue over them, his exotic words again paying homage to their exquisite taste and texture.

  Then he tugged her jeans off her hips and ran his fingers beneath the lace of her panties, his scalding words blowing against the skin of her stomach, running like sultry liquid fire between her legs. His touch over her most sensitive flesh brought an instant spasm of delight. And then another. She cried out with the pleasure and his words heated her further and she shuddered again and again beneath his touch and sounds.

  Noel knew she was totally unraveling under those words, those hands, that mouth as they simultaneously seduced her body and every thought from her head except for this incredibly incendiary exotic language and the incredibly incendiary exotic man who had taken possession of her body.

  And he did possess it. Totally. Unequivocally. He laid her naked body on the rug in front of the fireplace and burned her with the fire in his eyes, voice and touch.

  His own naked body gleamed above her, his muscles cording to the symphony of his motion and words. He was fully aroused and arousing. Never had she seen a more magnificent man.

  And never had she realized how empty silent lovemaking was until now. Until now, she never knew how a lack of words kept a man and woman separate from this overpowering, vibrating, sensuous sound that gave voice to the most primitive of life’s celebration. Until now, she never knew that she had been experiencing a black-and-white silent movie. Until now, she had no idea what it was like to be right in the center of a vibrantly full Cinemascope, Technicolor production.

  His hands never left her body, neither did his eyes or his words. His smoky, mellow bark scent was like an incense of scorched male heat. Noel’s body quivered in anticipation as he lowered himself to her, devouring her with his every touch and sound and scent, telling her how good she smelled and tasted and felt.

  He lay between her legs, stroked her nipples and then her thighs, rubbed his full arousal against her, sending shafts of rocketing pleasure through her, telling her every instant with every growly Russian word of the pleasure he wished to bring to her and the answering heat that was sweeping through him. She moaned against him and opened further, eager, so eager to feel more, to hear more.

  Again and again he pressed against her, but did not enter. Again and again she moaned in pleasure at the hot tempting thrust against her sensitive skin, at the hot tempting words against her sensitive ears.

  It was torture. Exquisite, intense, delicious torture. Just when Noel thought she would not be able to stand another second, he pushed past to her inner moist heat, so ready to receive him. She wrapped her thighs around him.

  His exotic, hot words pulsed in her ears as his strong, hard body lay on top of hers and he thrust deep inside her. His husky, breathy words told her of his every sensation, of burrowing inside her until he felt the very core of her being, of the wondrous pleasure that soft center gave him, of the immense tidal wave rising inside him, a primitive and elemental ocean using him as its channel for the spark of immortality that his body would pass to hers.

  For the first time in her life, she felt it all, she tasted it all, she smelled it all, she heard it all. And for the first time in her life, she understood it all.

  Cries of delight and desire tore through her throat, her answer to his strong thrusts, to his scent, to his words, to the pleasure that rocked her so strongly, she wondered if she might tear apart.

  And then his deep, growly voice became a roar, and she felt the rigid instant pause in every muscle of his body as he exploded warm and liquid within her and she convulsed around him, crying out with a release of pleasure so intense, it flowed through the very marrow of her bones.

  She said his name in breathless wonder—over and over and over again. Her joy pouring out her heart in the syllables of that one word.

  Nicholas.

  For it was that word that most clearly represented this incredible feeling of life that had flowed into her tonight, this incredible feeling of love.

  But only her heart heard. She did not say his name aloud.

  She had spoken of her love to a man once before, and the pain of his rejection had been excruciating. She knew now that her love for Cade had been a mere light bulb compared to the sky-filled, crackling lightning in the thunderstorm of emotion she felt for this man.

  Nicholas. Whose dead Dotnara still waltzed his heart.

  No, she could not say his name aloud. She could not tell him of her love. She could not make the same mistake twice. To this man she could say nothing.

  Because Nicholas Baranov, the man whose wonderful growly sounds had so seduced and claimed every cell of his wife’s soul only seconds before, was now completely and absolutely silent.

  * * *

  NICHOLAS AWOKE to the sound of the forced air heater turning on, signaling the return of electricity to the house. He looked down to find Noel resting her cheek against his chest, tangled in his legs, his arms, the beat of his heart. Early-morning light flicked through the skylight over their bed, shining through the red-gold strands of her hair. It touched the pillow of her earlobe, the sweep of her red-gold lashes, the soft curve of her pale cheek, the elegant line down her back and the round seductive globe of her bottom peeking out from the covers.

  She was exquisitely beautiful.

  She was his.

  His body rejoiced to the realization, eagerly reawakening to the sight and sweet scent of her. He smiled as he remembered how open and ready she had been for him each time he had awakened during the night, hungry for her.

  Now, once again, the hunger had returned. He told himself he should let her sleep. He had kept her awake many hours. But he couldn’t help running the tips of his fingers along one lovely satin shoulder down to the edge of the seductive swell of her breast just beneath.

  She stirred in her dreams, aware of him but not quite coming awake. Her lips opened and closed almost soundlessly into a smile. But he could see the word they formed, hear the faint echo of breathless wonder before she nestled her cheek back against his chest. Nicholas.

  Something like a pressure grew inside his chest. It filled him completely and then burst cleanly through the seal he had once thought so permanent—the sturdy seal that cracked open now like thin rice paper with the gentle, breathless sigh of his name on her lips.

  She had reached past all his defenses, all his previous sorrow, found his heart and captured it in the simple sweet melody of that one small sound.

  He was hers.

  This news should have surprised him. It did not. He could see now that it had been happening to him ever since that first night when she walked into her grandfather’s study, full of ice and fire, making his hands burn with his desire and need for her. Only this one incomparable woman could have made him finally bury his Dotnara, warmed the cold stone heart inside him, brought it back to life.

  Last night he had taken her as his wife. But he knew he would have to earn
the right to remain her husband. Doc Mallory’s words came back to him, clear and compelling.

  “A real man takes care of his woman, especially during the hard times.”

  She was his woman. He would prove this. He would get the job at the engineering lab and work hard to earn what was necessary to support her through these hard times. He would fulfill all her needs. He would show her she could trust him, that she could believe in his love.

  Until then, he would make her no empty promises the way this Cade Patterson had. He would wait until he could be a husband who took care of all of his wife’s needs before offering her his heart, the heart she already so fully possessed.

  She stirred against him again, stretched, rolled over onto her back to reveal the bouncy satin globes of her breasts, the pink nipples rising in their centers, the hot triangle of red-gold hair beckoning between her thighs.

  His eyes devoured her body greedily and then moved to her face. She was looking at him sleepily, seductively, through silver-green slits. She stretched her arms over her head, arched her back slightly and smiled as the blanket rose to a small mountain between his legs.

  Her eyes flashed up to his face, full of mischief and the mysterious knowledge and power that was woman.

  “So, that’s where my side of the blankets keep going. Have you forgotten that you promised I would get at least half of the blankets on our bed?”

  His burning hands reached for her, drawing her on top of him, the blood hammering through his arms, his legs, his heart. Her breasts rubbed against his chest, her nipples hard and hot. Her satin thighs wrapped their delicious heat around him.

  He would tell her soon of all she did to him and all he would do to her. But first there was this small matter of the blankets to settle.

  “Hmm. I might still be able to find a big, smelly yak for you to brush.”

  She laughed as he brought her mouth to his, and her laughter erupted into his throat, deep and hearty. He drank it in, not able to get enough of the sound of her, the taste of her, the feel of her. And then, as he had all through the night, he made love to her with his hands and his words and she moaned and sighed and hummed with life beneath him as the earth moaned and sighed and hummed with life beneath the warm rays of the hot sun.

  * * *

  “MISTLETOE SURE LOOKS feisty this morning.”

  Noel watched fondly as her little dog jumped up and down in his excitement at Lucy’s appearance at her store. Truth be told, she felt a bit like jumping up and down this morning, too.

  “He had a bad scare last night, Lucy. I think he’s celebrating being alive today.” Noel’s smile faded as she looked at her friend. “Which is more than I can say about you. What’s wrong?”

  Lucy trudged over to a chair and plopped down on it, looking gray and haggard, nothing like her normal self.

  “Sorry, but I didn’t get a chance to make that dream hoop for you, after all. It’s been a long night.”

  Noel got up from her workbench, came to Lucy’s side, more than alarmed at the sadness in her friend’s face and voice.

  “Forget the dream hoop, Lucy. I slept better last night than I’ve ever slept. Now, tell me, what’s wrong. You don’t look like you’ve slept at all.”

  Lucy rubbed her eyes with the back of her hand. “It’s our cows, Noel. They’re dropping their calves early, just like the Duncans’ and the Pattersons’ stock. I’ve been up all night hand-nursing a premature little bull calf. He finally died in my arms an hour ago.”

  Noel rested a hand on Lucy’s shoulder, a shaft of sorrow knifing through her. “I’m so sorry. What can I do?”

  “Hell, nothing nobody can do. Doc came by to take a look. Took a sample of the water. Sent it off. We all just gotta go on as best we can. But if we lose the rest...”

  Noel’s hand gripped Lucy’s shoulder. “Maybe the lab will get back to him soon. Maybe it’s something that can be corrected. Maybe—”

  Noel was interrupted by her “Jingle Bells” doorbell as Berna Vane came busting through, shaking new-fallen snow off her silver fox coat.

  “There you are, Lucy. Kurt said he thought he saw your pickup heading this way.”

  Lucy’s dark head rose wearily. “What do you want, Berna? I’m not much in the mood for socializing.”

  “Well, I thought you might just like to know that I’m calling a meeting for tonight. I’ve been in touch with CMC headquarters this morning. Our executive vice president wants to meet with everyone in Midwater right away.”

  “Why?”

  “That’ll all be explained at the meeting tonight at the community center. I tried calling your folks’ house, but nobody’s answering the phone.”

  “They’re a mite preoccupied at the moment, Berna.”

  “Yes, I heard. Dreadful news. Well, I’ll rely on you to tell them, Lucy. By the way, you may not know that the Ungers’ cows have come down with the same problem as the rest of yours. Doc Mallory just got a call on his CB and headed over there. Whatever this is, it sure is catchy.”

  Berna had dropped her voice into an appropriate regretful tone, but Noel saw the gleam in the woman’s eyes and the smirk on her lips. She was actually enjoying being a witness to the hardships the ranching families were going through. Anger rose in Noel’s chest. The idea that Berna might profit from them turned Noel’s stomach. Her tone carried her disapproval.

  “The Christmas committee’s status meeting is in the community center, Berna. You’ll have to gather the rest of your corporate-vulture family to pick over the ranchers’ bones elsewhere.”

  Berna flashed light, irritated eyes at her. “No, Noel, I will not. CMC’s meeting will be at six, a full hour before the Christmas festival meeting at seven, if there still is one at seven.”

  “What do you mean, if?”

  Berna’s smile came on slow and deadly. She did not answer Noel’s question. She turned on the toes of her white leather boots and yanked “Jingle Bells” into play as she marched from the shop. Noel could still see that smile, hanging in the air like the carved grinning skull on an old tombstone.

  * * *

  “LADIES AND GENTLEMEN of Midwater, my name is Milton Younger, the executive vice president of the Consolidated Mining Consortium. I am here this evening because we at CMC have heard of your plight.”

  The small trim man with the large head paused to adjust the gold-rimmed eyeglasses sitting upon his perfectly straight nose, before leaning his forearms on the podium and looking out at nearly every adult resident of Midwater who now filled the community center.

  They sat silently before this slick, official-looking CMC representative in the dark, three-piece suit. Attentive. Waiting.

  Nicholas knew they were anxious—not eager—to hear what this man would say. He reached for Noel’s hand beside him and covered it with his, knowing she was anxious, too.

  “People think of us big companies as being all computer and profit-driven. But the truth is that we are a company made up of people just like you, working hard, doing our best to get ahead. We know what it’s like to do all the right things and still have it all go sour because of some bad luck. Like you folks here are experiencing right now.”

  He paused again and leaned a little farther over the podium, projecting himself forward as though he weren’t so far removed from them and their plight.

  “And because we understand what you’re going through, we’ve decided to do something we’ve never done before. Ladies and gentlemen of Midwater, sitting behind that table over there with ready contracts is our local representative Berna Vane, one of your own. We at CMC are prepared to offer any one of you who comes forward tonight to sell your land to us at a twenty percent increase in the previously offered price.”

  An instant murmur began through the center, some excited, some definitely biting on the edge with anger. Milton Younger raised his hands for quiet.

  “Wait, wait. I’m not finished. CMC is fully prepared to add the twenty percent increase to the price of those who have a
lready sold their land to us. We don’t intend for anyone to get the short end of the stick. No, folks, we fully intend for all of us to come out winners.”

  He leaned fully on the podium now, beaming at them all benevolently.

  The murmur that had hushed for a moment erupted anew into a low roar. It went on for a few minutes as wives and husbands conferred with each other and the neighbors who sat around them. Nicholas could feel Noel’s hand turning stiff and icy beneath his. He could feel the rigidness taking over her body.

  “But I have to repeat, folks,” Milton Younger said again, still beaming, “this twenty percent offer is only good through tonight. You must act now.”

  Several members of the audience started to get up to approach the table where Berna waited with contracts laid out.

  Noel jumped to her feet. “Wait!”

  Heads turned in her direction. People stopped in the aisle leading to Berna’s table. The room hushed.

  “Please don’t let yourselves be pressured into a decision tonight. We still don’t know what is wrong with the stock. This is our valley, our home. There’s much more than money at stake. There’s the whole way of life that we know here in Midwater. We can’t just—”

  Kurt Haag rose from behind Noel and put his big paws on her shoulders, physically pushing her back into her seat. “Everybody’s heard enough out of—”

  Nicholas anger flashed fast and furious as he saw this man dare to put hands on his wife. He yanked Haag’s paws away from Noel’s shoulders and lifted Haag into the air by his collar, flinging him onto the floor. The big man landed with a crash, knocking over metal chairs quickly vacated by their recent occupants, who were now scurrying to get out of the way.

  Haag shook his head, stunned, then looked up at Nicholas, his face growing red with anger. He scrambled to his feet and lunged at Nicholas, fists swinging. Nicholas easily dodged the fist and landed one of his own in the generous girth around the man’s middle. He followed up with another fist hard against Haag’s chin and the man crumpled into an unconscious lump at Nicholas’s feet.