by Jillian Hart
She kept talking with embarrassment raw and trembling in her voice, and he couldn’t find the words to stop her. “Linnea, I—”
“No, it’s okay. I don’t need to hear it. I know you’re not looking to settle down with a woman with a mother to take care of. I’m not looking for marriage, so don’t feel uneasy around me.”
Her chin hitched up a notch, and with her spine straight and her small hands curled into fists, she looked ready to fight.
The glistening light in her eyes wasn’t tears, but it was emotion. One thing he knew was the look of sadness. How it dimmed the light within a person. How it flickered like a candle at the end of its wick. And how hopes died like a sputtering flame until there was only cold and darkness.
She was lying to him. Plain and simple.
Linnea Holmstrom wanted a man to love her. He guessed that she didn’t expect anyone would or could.
That was something he understood. All too well.
“It’s not you, Linnea.” He took a step closer toward her and the light, gathering up his courage because he didn’t want her lie between them.
He didn’t want her believing that she was undesirable. He could see that in her eyes, too. “You don’t make me uncomfortable. Not like the Widow Johanson, for instance. She’s been to the house three times to have tea with Ginny. And eyeing me the whole while.”
“I’m not surprised. She’s young and pretty and used to having a man provide for her.”
“She scares me.”
“Marriage-hungry women have been scaring men since the beginning of time.” She almost smiled, a slight wobbling curve of her bow-shaped mouth. “Aren’t men supposed to be commitment shy?”
“That’s not what I am.” He didn’t know how to say it. He hadn’t spoken of his loss since he’d walked away from the graveyard, leaving his heart behind. “I had a family once. A pretty wife who liked to sing while she did her housework. And a son and a daughter who had her smile.”
“I didn’t know.” Linnea laid her hand on his sleeve. “What happened?”
“A fever. Hit out of nowhere. They were fine when I left in the morning and in bed when I returned at dusk. By midnight two days later, they were gone. Just like that.”
His throat burned and he turned away from her. “When a man buries his family, it’s like the sun going down on his life. A winter without the promise of spring. That’s all. It isn’t that I don’t want a wife. It’s that I had a wife. Everything changes, and that time for me is past. How could I be that fortunate again?”
He appreciated she didn’t tell him how sorry she was for his loss. She simply let him have his silence. The burning in his throat wouldn’t go away, and the night felt suffocating.
All that awaited him if he left was an empty bed in an unhappy house. Where a shadow of a child never made a sound, where his sister’s silent anger lay hidden beneath her attempts to please him.
There would always be an empty bed and a lonely room, whether it was on Ginny’s ranch or wherever it was he ended up. He’d faced that truth long ago when his grief hadn’t killed him. He’d gone on living, but tonight the lonesomeness hurt too much.
Linnea’s skirts rustled behind him. Her hand lighted on his shoulder and remained, comforting and steady. She didn’t say a word, but he could feel her heart—her sorrow and her caring. Her touch was a softness he hadn’t felt in what had to be forever.
A haven in a storm.
A light in the darkness.
Loneliness welled up, pushing out the memories and the pain until he couldn’t breathe. His eyes burned and his throat ached. His chest felt tight and he couldn’t stand it anymore. He reached out and pulled her into his arms.
Her golden hair felt like silk against the stubble on his chin, her soft woman body warm against his chest. She melted against him, her arms encircling his back. She was so small and yet he felt the strength of her, warm and caring. He buried his face in her hair.
Like night finding its morning, his loneliness began to fade. She filled his senses with her lilac scent and warmth, her arms tight around him, her soft hair on his skin, the warmth of her breath fluttering against his neck. He curled one hand around her nape. When she leaned into the crook of his shoulder, he could feel her tears hot on his skin.
Fierce, overwhelming tenderness filled him like a river breaking its icy dam. He turned to her blindly, finding the softness of her face and the silk texture of her skin. He pressed a kiss to her cheek greedily, like a starving man. Expecting her to break away.
As if a miracle, she turned to him. His lips found hers. She was satin soft and he kissed her hard and deep. He was breathing fast and his heart was pounding as if he’d run ten miles, but he couldn’t move away. He cupped her chin, splayed his fingers around the back of her neck and drank of her like a man who’d been thirsty all his life.
She moaned, a small feminine sound that cut like cold water. He’d been too rough and it shamed him. He released her, letting go of her heat and her softness and hating it. Backing away a step, breathing hard, he tried to figure out what to say.
Her hair was tousled and her lips were shaped by his kiss. He could taste her still. He wanted to pull her back into his arms and never stop kissing her. To have the right to touch her.
What he wanted was simple. He needed her warmth and comfort.
She stared up at him with wide eyes. Afraid? Or maybe shocked. He couldn’t tell.
“I had no right—” He felt like a fool, like a young man without a drop of self-control. “I’m sorry. I just— I don’t know what to say. There is no excuse.”
“I understand.” She dipped her chin, hiding her face.
He’d made a big mistake. How was he going to correct it now? He couldn’t very well withdraw the kiss and erase the moment so it had never happened.
The sweetness of her pounded in his blood and he shook with a need he hadn’t felt in years.
“You were overcome with your memories.” She shrugged once, a vulnerable lift of her slim shoulder. A small gesture that wrenched his heart. “Don’t worry. I know it wasn’t me you wanted to kiss.”
“I apologize. Just overwhelmed, I guess.”
“It’s all right. We can pretend it never happened.”
“Sure.” It would be hard to act as if he hadn’t made an ass of himself tonight, reaching out for her. He was lucky she wasn’t furious with him for taking liberties and taking advantage.
She looked sad. There was no other word for it. As he turned out the wick and lantern light faded into darkness, the image of her standing there in the middle of the aisle, looking forlorn and unwanted, remained.
He’d used her and hurt her. It was that simple. But as he opened the barn door and breathed in the scent of her as she passed, he had to wonder.
Maybe it was more than loneliness and memories that had driven him into her arms.
“You didn’t ride over?” she asked at the top of the porch stairs, where the eaves partially protected her from the rain.
“I like to walk at night.”
“The plains are beautiful in the dark. Even when it’s rainy like this. It’s like music.”
“I suppose it is.” He cocked his head, listening to the sound of heavy rains drumming across the prairie. There was a melody and rhythm to it, like a thousand hymns whispered all at once.
“You won’t be uncomfortable around me, will you? Because of the kiss?” she asked. “I would hate that.”
“I would, too.” He tipped his hat, already taking a step back. “We’re friends. No uneasiness allowed.”
“Good.” She smiled and even in the shadows she was a beautiful sight.
He felt brittle, as fragile as blown glass. He didn’t trust his voice, so he kept walking, letting the night engulf him and the rain wash away the ache in his heart.
But another deeper ache remained. One that was fiery hot and strident. The feel of Linnea’s kiss haunted his lips on the mile-long walk through the night.
She’d kissed him back. Gentle and ardent and uncertain, but she’d definitely kissed him in return.
Realizing that, the rain didn’t feel as cold. Or the storm as dark.
* * *
She couldn’t see him anymore. Linnea let the curtain fall into place across the cool glass. Shivering from her damp clothes, she crossed the room and knelt before the crackling fire.
The flames had burned low while she’d been outside, but the coals glowed hot. Hot like Seth’s kiss.
Don’t even think about it. She had no right wanting to kiss him. Her mouth was still tingling from his lips. How was she going to forget that? Or how he’d held her to him with a need so fierce her heart was still racing from the power of it?
She would be sensible. She’d take him at his word. He’d been overwhelmed by his painful loss and needed comfort. That was all. His kiss didn’t mean a thing—not to him.
Seth had been hurting and needed comfort. That was all. She would do well by not losing her head and reading anything more into it than that.
But the parlor felt emptier than it ever had. The shadows fell across the rug where no man’s boots were set to warm, in a room where no man would hold her in his arms.
Seth’s scent lingered on her clothes—a rugged, masculine scent, clean like the night, charged like thunder, and she breathed it in. What was she doing? Hadn’t she just vowed to be sensible?
You have more common sense than that, Linnea Holmstrom.
She banked the coals and turned out the lamp. Her steps echoed in the house. After checking to make sure the door was locked, she made her way through the dark. To the single bedroom where Mama slept, hardly a shape beneath a thick pile of quilts.
She changed quickly, then knelt to pull out the trundle bed. When her fingers brushed the quilt she’d made long ago, she dropped to her knees on the cool floor.
Although it was dark, she didn’t need light to trace the perfect appliquéd circles of pastel calico she’d purchased at McIntyre’s store. The wedding ring quilt she’d made for her marriage bed. For the wedding she dreamed of like any sixteen-year-old girl.
Lessons learned. Lessons she would do best not to forget now that a man’s kiss once again burned on her lips like a brand.
* * *
Dawn came with a wisp of bright color in the east, where low blue-tinged hills touched the horizon. Streaks of crimson, orange and purple twisted along the underbellies of dark clouds.
The storm was long gone. Warblers and finches trilled in the new grasses, greeting the sun with their song. The new day came with quiet reverence that made Linnea feel renewed. And strengthened.
Today she would not think about Seth Gatlin. Not once.
She ambled across the soft earth made fresh and green by last night’s rain, swinging the buckets in both hands.
This is a good life. She may not have a husband of her own. She may never know the precious weight of her newborn child in her arms.
But she did have this, the hush of a new day. And the quiet companionship of a white-tailed deer, who raised her dainty head from her grazing, sides rounded with the weight of her unborn fawn.
Chickadees lifted from the fields, and the deer fled. Linnea heard the muted clomp of metal against stone and spun around, the bucket banging against her shin.
A man, with his Stetson’s brim shading his face, rode toward her on the golden spears of the newly rising sun. Astride his big black stallion, Seth Gatlin looked as powerful as the landscape and as impressive as the sky.
“Morning, Linnea.” He tipped his hat. “Thought I’d get an early start on checking the mare.”
“I haven’t made it to the barn yet. I was going to start packing water.”
“Good thing I happened along when I did. I’ll make you a trade.” He dismounted with a creak of leather and held the reins to her. “You take General to the barn for me, and I’ll fill those buckets for you.”
“I’m capable of carrying my own water.” The buckets clanged against her shins as she turned, her pride getting the better of her.
If she planned on sticking to her resolve, then she’d do better to act more like a self-reliant woman than a spinster searching for romance.
“Yeah, I’m going to stand by and let you do the work.” He sidled up to her and stole the bucket right out of her hand.
“Hey. That’s mine.”
“I mean it, Linnea. I’m an army major and I’m used to having my own way.” Teasing lights flashed in his eyes. “I’m not giving in.”
“Neither am I.” She held her remaining bucket with both hands. “I’ve been packing water since the day my father took ill and I don’t mind it one bit.”
He fell in stride beside her. “You’ve been taking care of your mother for a long time. And doing the field work, by the look of things. You don’t sublease these fields, do you?”
“No.” She knelt down, but Seth was beside her, his firm shoulder brushing hers as he drew aside the well cover.
Since he was so darn determined, she let him take the second bucket and tie it to the fraying rope. “We rent these twenty acres back from Ginny, but the neighbor to the east rents the rest of the quarter section.”
“What do you do with the twenty acres? Hay it?”
“Yes. I keep a small herd of cattle to sell every spring. You probably didn’t notice the cows in the field across the road.”
“All twenty of them? I noticed.”
“I sell the gentlest milk cows in the county. It brings in enough money with my sewing to make ends meet.”
He hauled up the heavy bucket hand over hand. “Do you have any coming fresh soon?”
“Anytime now. Are you interested?”
“My nephew Jamie is about the sickliest lad I’ve ever set eyes on, and she doesn’t have a cow. I figure a few glasses of milk a day might do him some good.”
“Ginny’s lucky she has you for her brother.” Pain filled her, heavy as stone, and she twisted away. She did feel sorry for Ginny, but it was hard to forget all the hurt over the years.
“I’m glad to be here.” Seth was at her side, carrying the brimming ten-gallon buckets handily. “Deciding to retire from the army wasn’t easy. With my family gone, I felt kind of aimless. But Ginny wrote she needed help, and I volunteered. Thought it might give me a chance to dust off my ranching skills before I buy a place of my own.”
“Do you know where you’d like to go?”
“Hadn’t much thought about it. Figured I’d know the place when the time was right.”
“Major?” Mama’s sweet voice trilled on the morning breeze. “Is that you again? How lucky we are. I was just whipping up my specialty batch of pancakes. Can I tempt you to join us for breakfast?”
“I’m busy, ma’am.” Seth’s hard-set face softened when he looked at her mother. “Maybe another time.”
“I’ve got fresh sausages to fry up. Does that tempt you enough?”
“You’re going to be disappointed if I turn you down, aren’t you?” Seth squared his shoulders, even more a man for his kindness. “I’d be pleased to join you.”
“Wonderful.” Mama clasped her hands together. “How do you like your eggs?”
“Mama, you’ve embarrassed the poor man enough,” Linnea protested, for she suspected that Seth could see her mother’s true motivation.
“I haven’t eaten yet. Mrs. Holmstrom, fried eggs are fine.”
“My specialty.” Mama waltzed into the house, her happiness as bright as the sparkling morning.
“Forgive her. She’s a misguided mother.”
“There are a lot of those around.” A slow grin curved along his mouth, the mouth that had kissed her with need.
Tingling, Linnea took a deep breath. Remember, you vowed to forget about that kiss.
If only it were that easy.
The barn loomed ahead of them, and General lifted his head high. His neigh shattered the morning’s peace. The stallion that had been trailing Seth now took off at a tai
l-high gallop heading straight for the barn.
Seth couldn’t grab the dangling reins, and he shook his head. “It’s no use calling him back. He wants to show off for the pretty mare in your barn.”
“She’s loud this morning. That must mean she’s stronger.”
“Angrier,” Seth corrected. “She’s going to be a handful now that she’s rested. I’m glad you’re here. We’ve got to get her used to you being around, since she’s yours now. Believe me when I say, in six months she’s going to think of you as her family and not the herd.”
“I don’t believe you. How can a wild creature be tamed? The first chance she gets, she’s going to fly over the fence and take off with the mustangs.”
“It depends on how she’s treated.” Seth shouldered General away from the barn doors and set down the buckets. “She’s likely to be mighty angry over being cross-tied all night, but that’s all right. We’ll untie her and she’ll be grateful we came along.”
“That’s your horse-training philosophy, is it? Make an animal grateful and she’ll stay?” Linnea grabbed the door and pulled before Seth could stop her. “You might have gotten lucky with General, but you don’t sound like any horseman I’ve heard.”
“Then you’ve been listening to the wrong sort.” His mouth crooked in a jaunty grin.
When he was smiling like that, it was hard not to look at his lips. Harder still to forget the heated caress of his kiss. The brush of hot mouth and hotter tongue. Impossible to forget his steel-hard arms that clutched her to his equally solid chest.
She tugged open the door, grateful for the wind that cooled her overflushed face. Seth’s stallion raced past her in a black blur of mane and tail.
“General, for heaven’s sake, be a gentleman.” Seth left the buckets just inside the doorway and loped down the aisle to retrieve his horse. “Linnea, leave the buckets. I don’t mind filling the troughs.”
“Are you going to do all my chores?”
“Sure. Why not?”
She shook her head. He was too much of a gentleman. If he was any nicer to her, it was going to be impossible to forget the kiss that still buzzed on her lips and reminded her of her loneliness.