by Jillian Hart
“It’s good enough for a bachelor, but it’s no place to bring a wife.”
“A wife?”
“She’s the kindest lady I’ve ever met. I want her to have the best of me. And the best of what I can give her.” He reached into his pocket, shaking like a leaf. “This is the biggest risk I’ve ever taken in my life, Linnea. Nothing has ever mattered to me more than what your answer is going to be.”
“I see.” Her eyes were round and luminous, deep and full of longing. “What answer are you looking for?”
“I want you to say yes.” He took her left hand and slipped the ring over her finger. “I would be honored if you’d agree to be my wife.”
“You want to marry me?” Her voice wobbled.
“Yes. I want you with all that I am.” He felt her hand tremble in his, felt the sob shake her.
“You want to marry me.”
“Well, the Widow Johanson turned me down first, and since I had the ring and the lumber bought for the house—”
“Don’t tease me.” Linnea laughed and cried, flying into his arms. Holding him was heaven, pure heaven. “Yes, Seth Gatlin, I’ll marry you.”
She couldn’t believe it. This was really happening. She was going to be Seth’s wife.
His lips claimed her like a sizzling brand. Leaving her breathless, leaving her weak. He was heat and passion, and she couldn’t resist him.
Like the thunder booming across the sky, desire crashed through her. She sucked playfully on his bottom lip, and he chuckled. She breathed in his smile as he pulled her onto his lap.
“That’s better,” he murmured against her lips.
Wrapping her arms around his neck was a fantasy come true. She boldly met his kiss with a sweep of her tongue and a gentle suction on his upper lip. His fingers wound deep into her hair, cradling her head. His other hand slid slowly up and down her back. Her spine tingled.
To think that she had the right to kiss him like this for every night to come. For the rest of their lives together. The ring felt strange on her finger as she brushed her fingertips across his nape and into the silken locks at his collar. She loved the way he felt, iron solid beneath warm skin.
“It’s starting to rain,” he told her.
“I didn’t notice.” Only then did she realize the earth smelled sharp and heavy. The warm rain tapped in lazy drops, spotting her forehead and then her cheek.
His mouth grazed hers, broke away, returned to nibble and sip. She sighed, drinking in the sweetness of being with him. Wished they could do this all night long—and much, much more than kiss.
“I figure we can get married as soon as your mother is a little stronger.” He leaned in the crackling grass, taking her with him.
“I’d like that, but it would be nice to have time to make a new dress. After all, a girl doesn’t get married every day.”
“True.” He traced his finger down the curve of her nose, slowly, and then he kissed the tip of her nose. “You have no idea how much I want to make love with you right now.”
Desire fluttered low in her abdomen at the thought. “I might have some idea.”
“Is that so?”
She blushed, grateful for the dark so he couldn’t tell. “A man isn’t alone in the need to be loved. A woman wants that, too.”
“I’m glad to hear that.” He kissed her deeply and passionately, with enough heat to leave her dazed. “We don’t have to wait. Not if we planned to get married in a week. Two at the most.”
“I should make you wait.” Her pulse soared as he traced a finger across her bottom lip. She caught his fingertip with his tongue and laved it.
“Don’t make me wait.” His fingers lingered at her collar. “I feel as if I’ve already waited a lifetime for you.”
“I know just what you mean.”
Seth trailed kisses across her chin and down her throat. The years of loneliness vanished like fog to sun as he closed the space between them. The skies opened up, the wind blustered over them, but all she could feel was Seth and the wild beat of her heart.
He tugged at the buttons at her throat but not fast enough, and it frustrated her. She wanted to feel the heat of his palm on her, so she helped him with the buttons. Their fingers kept bumping and their knuckles kept knocking.
Seth’s chuckle breezed against her throat. “You are beauty and passion. No need to be shy, okay?”
“Okay.” She lay back in anticipation.
Rain-damp fabric clung to her skin and she moaned when he peeled the cotton away. Cool rain tapped across her bared breasts. Then his hands covered her with warmth. Sweet, kneading warmth that made her bones melt.
“You are like silk,” he whispered, his breath hot against her rain-dotted skin.
His palms were callused. As he kneaded and caressed her breasts, his rough skin grated deliciously across her nipples. She closed her eyes, and a moan was torn from her throat.
Such exquisite sensation. Heat swirled in her midsection, and she arched her back more. His mouth closed over her and suckled. Pleasure twisted deep in her stomach. She curled her hands around his neck and held him, pressing kisses to his brow.
He lifted his mouth from her. “You’re shivering.”
“Trembling.”
“You’re getting cold.” He covered her breasts with clear regret. “It’s really starting to rain.”
“I don’t mind.” She caught his wrist so he couldn’t move away from her. “Please don’t stop.”
He brushed her lips with reverence, with tenderness that could not be measured. “I can’t believe I’m here with you like this.”
“Lucky me.” She pressed her hand to his jaw. Fine stubble rasped against her palm. The ring on her hand caught her attention, a faint circle of smooth gold with a stone that shimmered even in the near darkness. “I made a mistake before, believing a man’s words of love.”
“This is no mistake.” He kissed her palm, sending delicious pleasure tickling up her arm. “I want you for my wife. I want to make a family with you. Only with you, Linnea.”
Her heart opened, just like that. When he touched her, he touched more than her skin, more than the pebbled tips of her breasts swollen from his kisses. He touched the deepest part of her.
Loving him seemed natural. As if she’d been made to be with this man and in this place. The rain tapped down, warm trickles that made her dress buttons slick and made them laugh.
“I never noticed it took so many buttons to get a woman out of her clothes,” Seth teased against her bare skin. “It takes more than sweet talk to get a woman out of her drawers. It takes dexterity.”
She laughed as she tugged off his shirt. The garment fell away. The night shadows worshiped his sculptured form. He looked like marble but felt like warm steel. She splayed her hands across his chest.
“Here. Lie back.” He lay down with her on a bed of their clothing. His solid knee rested against her thigh. “I’d better cover you up so you don’t get cold.”
“Good idea.”
His knee parted her thighs and he settled over her. She shivered harder, but she wasn’t cold. She was hot from his touch and trembling with need. Rain dappled her forehead as she wrapped her arms around his shoulders, pulling her to him.
He covered her with his heat and strength. His arousal lay against the curve of her stomach, proof that he desired her. His kiss was tender, proof that he loved her.
He touched her and made sensation streak through her raw nerve endings. He kissed her breasts, her stomach and grazed his hands down her thighs, all the while murmuring soft loving words. Praises that made her feel beautiful and wanted. Wanted by this man.
He entered her slowly. It felt as if he were melting into her, his unyielding hardness into her aching heat. She tipped her hips, needing more of him, taking him as deep as she could.
Breathless, she met his gaze. Love burned there, unmistakable and bright. She wanted to hold him like this forever. To treasure the feel of his weight, the hardness of his body a
nd the length of his shaft heavy and thrumming inside her.
But desire drove her. She moved and so did he, withdrawing and thrusting with a slow, steady rhythm. Sharp pleasure spiraled through her, so intense it made her cry out. Made her lock her thighs around his hips. The beautiful pleasure wasn’t enough—she wanted more. Much more.
She rocked against him, meeting him stroke for stroke. Sensation and heat gathered there, where they met, and then exploded in a pulsing wave of pleasure and light.
He cried out, stiffening over her, driving deep. She felt him pulse and the wet rush of his seed. With a shaky sigh, he rested on top of her, keeping his weight on his elbows. He caught her hands and twined their fingers together. He kissed her, simply kissed her.
His silence said everything.
She’d never known love before this night. She’d never felt this intense pleasure or a bond so deep. Her body pulsed with a pleasant exhilaration.
She twined her legs around his and returned his kisses. Until he loved her all over again.
Chapter Fifteen
From the front step of his shanty, Seth watched the storm as the hours passed. The thunderheads glowed faintly purple against the ebony night. Dry lightning rippled across the sky, accompanied by a deafening thunderclap.
All he could think about was Linnea. She’d said yes. To his ring and to making love. Being with her had been paradise. Tenderness grew in his heart with every beat. The love he felt for her was so fierce, if it were light it would blot out the sun.
First thing in the morning, he’d purchase lumber for the house. He’d order enough fence posts to make the corral to hold the mustangs. Judging by the change of weather, the horses would be returning to the plains soon.
Another spear of lightning stabbed across the sky. It didn’t touch down, but it was too close for comfort. He’d rather be in bed right now, dreaming of Linnea, but the brief sprinkle earlier in the night hadn’t been enough. The prairie was still tinder dry. It wouldn’t take but a spark to start a wildfire.
He’d stay up until dawn if he had to. He’d do whatever it took to make sure his land stayed safe. He had a future to protect. A future with Linnea.
He took another sip of coffee and waited. Dreaming of her. Always.
* * *
The ring felt like a promise on her finger as she lit the fire in the kitchen stove. The diamond glittered pure white as if it had been plucked from the heavens just for her.
“Morning, Linnea.” Claire carried in a load of wood. “Let me get that. I planned to do the ironing this morning.”
“Let’s get breakfast cooking first. Mama is still sleeping. We’ll keep hers warm for when she awakens.”
Linnea snapped the match tin shut and opened the damper wide. The gold band chinked softly against the iron door.
“That’s an awfully pretty ring.” Claire filled the wood tin one piece at a time. “Is it from the major?”
Linnea blushed, remembering last night and the intimacy they’d shared. “We’re going to be married.”
“I’m so happy for you.” Claire’s smile was genuine. “You haven’t told your mother yet, have you?”
“She’s been asleep.” Linnea plunked the fry pan on the burner. “I can’t decide if I should tell her outright or wait for her to discover the ring on my finger.”
“She’ll be excited. It will lift her spirits.” Claire brushed the bark from her sleeves into the bin. “What can I do to help?”
“You can fetch the bacon from the cellar. And a new jar of preserves.”
Claire washed her hands, then found the ring handle in the floor. The hinges squeaked as she pulled, and her shoes echoed in the room below.
Think of how happy Mama would be! This was exactly what her mother had hoped for with all that baking and cooking. Linnea nearly laughed out loud imagining it.
Who would have thought she would be his bride?
Joy made her work easy. Claire returned with the bacon and soon the meat was sizzling in the pan. The sweet scent of strawberry jelly filled the kitchen and the yeasty goodness of bread.
“That’s the last of it,” Claire announced as she cut the loaf into slices. “I wouldn’t mind baking a new batch of bread.”
“You were hired to help out, not to do all my work. You iron and I’ll bake.”
It was a good plan. After they ate, Claire set up the ironing board on the table and began tackling the large stack of sheets, towels and nightgowns. Linnea melted butter, warmed water and buttermilk and spooned out flour.
After measuring her ingredients, Linnea checked on Mama. She was still sleeping. She looked frail beneath the quilt, but her chest lifted with regular breathing and her color remained good.
Although Linnea was bubbling with her good news, it would keep. She was going to marry Seth Gatlin, and nothing in the world could change it. She closed the door, leaving her mother to sleep.
The yeast water was hot enough, so she hurried to the stove.
* * *
“Uncle Seth?” His nephew lurched to a stop in the shanty’s doorway. A lunch pail dangled from one hand and he clutched a slate in the other. “It’s time for school.”
“It’s that late already?”
The boy nodded. “Don’t want to be tardy. Tommy Wheeler got late last week and he had to sit in the corner for an hour.”
“We’d best get going, then.” Seth grabbed his hat from the wall peg, feeling happier than he’d been in years.
With the flat-footed stomp of a little boy, Jamie marched out into the sunshine, where a nippy wind chased them all the way to the barn.
He hitched the oxen to the wagon and waited while the child climbed into the seat. He ruffled Jamie’s hair and then sent the oxen walking at a fast pace.
They passed Linnea’s house, and he remembered last night. How he remembered the sweet passion she’d shown him. He would never be able to get enough of her.
He could see her through the window, intent at her kitchen work. Pride filled him. That beautiful, gentle woman was going to be his wife.
“Thanks for the ride, Uncle Seth!” Jamie called at the schoolyard. He ran to join other little boys, throwing his lunch pail and slate onto the grass. The whooping delight of the children at play filled the air with a happy sound.
Seth drove away, trying to concentrate on his driving, but thought of Linnea instead. Maybe they could be alone together today. Maybe she’d come to see him in the field.
“Morning, Major.” The sheriff called as he unlocked his office door.
Seth returned the greeting, tipped his hat and kept driving. Yes, it was a fine morning.
He stopped the wagon in the lumberyard and hopped down. The earth vibrated beneath his boots. Looked like a train was coming in earlier than usual. That was a first.
Seth told the lumberyard owner what he needed.
“Why don’t you take the good cured lumber over there.” Mr. Randall pointed to two tall stacks of cut wood. “I’ll send out an order for more fence rails on this morning’s train.”
“Appreciate it. I’ll help you load.”
The train arrived with a squealing of iron on iron and a loud whistle. Seth helped Randall fill the wagon with honeyed wood, in spite of the choking smoke from the engine drifting their way.
His back was aching when the sheriff rode into sight. “Major, there you are. Figured I could find you here. I need you to help me out.”
“Morning, Sheriff.” Seth signed the bill Randall presented him with and handed it back. “What can I do you for?”
“Got some folks just off the train. They’re elderly and not from around here. I hate to trust them with Griswold down at the livery. He’d do about anything to make an extra buck.”
“You want me to drive them somewhere? I’ve got a full load.”
“Don’t you worry about that. These folks say they’re looking for the Holmstrom place. With the news of that ring you bought traveling like greased lightning around town, I figured you
might want to be responsible for them.”
“You heard about that, did you?”
“There are a lot of sad women in this town this morning. No mistaking that. My sister-in-law is one of them.” The sheriff rolled his eyes. “Her and my wife were jawing about it over breakfast. Now, if you want to do me a favor, you can take my wife’s sister off my hands.”
“I can’t help you with that.” Seth grabbed his hat from the seat and released the brake.
The sheriff chuckled. “Didn’t hurt to ask. They’re waiting on the platform. Look like real nice folks.” He rode on.
Elderly people looking for the Holmstrom place? Had to be relatives, he figured, remembering the letter he’d mailed for Linnea late last week. Curiosity got the best of him and he hurried the team.
Sure enough, there was an elderly man and woman waiting on the platform, a small clothes case on the floor between them. The man was dressed in finely tailored clothes and stood pole-straight. He looked powerful, even for his age.
The woman at his side was the spitting image of Mrs. Holmstrom, right down to her violet-blue eyes and brilliant smile. She could see. Her eyes lit at the sight of him. “Oh, have you come for us, young man? The sheriff promised he’d find someone to help us.”
“I’m Seth Gatlin.” He tipped his hat.
“The major.” The man held out his hand and they shook. “I’ve read about you in Linnea’s letters. I’m Fred Hudson, and this is my wife, Eva.”
“Have you been by to see my twin sister, Elsa? How is she?” Eva’s face was wreathed with worry. “When we received Linnea’s letter, I feared the worst. The mail takes too long! So my dear Frederick was good enough to buy tickets on the very next train and bring me here to see for myself how she is.”
Seth grabbed the case and tucked it behind the seat. He had other errands, but they could wait. “Your sister is better, ma’am. She’s weak, but other than that she’s getting stronger with every passing day.”
“I am so glad. When I read she’d had a stroke, I feared the worst. Although Linnea wrote quite plainly that Elsa was expected to be fine.”