“Saw her in town. She didn’t sound like a woman happy to be courted by you. She—”
“If you messed up my chances with Bridie ’cause of your loose tongue, I’ll tie it in a knot, friend or no friend, bet or no bet. Now get the hell out of my way.”
“Hold on, Kit—”
“No. You hold on. I’ve got twenty-seven days to go. And I’ll win all the way around.”
“Oh, Jamie, there you are,” Sedalia said from behind Kit.
And anger drove Kit’s response. “Watch yourself while walking out with him, Sedalia. He’ll get you near the farthest wagon and claim he’s got a pebble in his boot. By the time you figure out what he’s up to, you’ll either be kissing him back or slapping his face. Have a good evening, you hear.”
Bridie had the parlor lamp lit. A fire was burning in the fireplace and she sat with her mending, straining to hear the sound of buggy wheels on the lane. She lost count of how many times she had put aside her work and gone to the window.
The little wooden clock that her mother had brought from her home in Rhode Island chimed nine times. Bridie glanced from the clock’s face to Cinders curled on the rug before the hearth. The pup’s body twitched as if her dreams were of valiant deeds where she raced to whatever waited for her. She folded her mending and put it on top of her sewing basket.
Kit wasn’t coming. She had been more than foolish to bathe, and put on her best black skirt and a blue gingham blouse. She had thought about the bet. She had thought about how being with Kit made her feel. But he wasn’t here to know what she had decided. She had believed she wasn’t wallowing in self-pity, and yet that is exactly what she had been doing. Shy or not, she would have been the envy of every single woman at the social when she walked in on Kit’s arm. And if there had been teasing or laughter at her expense, she had a bone-deep feeling that Kit would have defended her.
It was just too late to understand she would steal what time she could with him. Whether Kit knew it or not, he had breached her safe little lonely world.
She was reaching for the poker to bank the fire when she heard the sound she had been waiting for all night. The crunch of wheels on the lane were accompanied by a rich baritone voice singing “Oh, Susanna.”
Bridie turned up the lamp. She retied the ribbon at the base of her neck that held her loose hair from her face. The puppy stretched and yawned, revealing tiny white teeth, and Bridie ran to scoop her up and put her in her bed in the kitchen.
She rushed back to the door just as Kit knocked.
“I’ve come to call—”
“Come in, Kit. We need to talk.”
He held up the napkin-covered basket. “I’ve brought along the prize I won. And before you ask, I left before the dancing started. I wanted to be with you, Bridie. But I want one honest answer from you before I step inside. Why wouldn’t you come?”
She looked up at him. The lamplight didn’t reach this far. He was a barely lit moonlight shadow. She promised herself honesty with him, but still found the words hard to say.
“I admitted I left because I wanted to be with you,” he said softly.
“I couldn’t go. I didn’t have a pretty gown to wear and I don’t know how to dance and crowds of people make me tongue-tied.”
The words were delivered in a rush with an underlying challenge. Kit merely shook his head. “Of all the things I thought of as reasons, it wasn’t one of those. But you look mighty pretty to me. As for dancing, we’ll remedy that right now. I don’t know how I can make you comfortable in a crowd, but I’m not too fond of other company when I’m near you.” He stepped inside and swept off his hat.
Bridie took it and set it on the small hall table. “I’m glad you came back.”
“So am I, Bridie.”
His voice was every bit as soft, but deeper somehow, and sent a delightful shiver running down her spine. She turned to the parlor but instead of following her, Kit walked back to the kitchen. When he joined her, he was minus one basket and his suit jacket. She watched wide-eyed as he pulled the string-tie free and tucked it into his pants pocket. Her brows lifted when first one, then two top buttons on his white shirt were undone.
“Make yourself comfortable,” she managed to say.
“I am.” Kit smiled. She did took pretty. And he was going to have his arms wrapped around that luscious body in a few minutes. Frustrating times were about to begin. But it would be worth it. A different kind of man would have taken advantage of Bridie and every situation he’d found her in. A different kind of man would be thinking far ahead to seducing her—with coaxing, gentle courtesy—right out of every stitch of clothes, and teach her to return the same.
Since he was standing there, tormenting himself, Kit took a few deep, steadying breaths. Bridie didn’t know how lucky she was he wasn’t a different kind of man.
“Come here, Bridie. We’ll have your first dance lesson.”
“We don’t have any music.” Her words sounded silly. He had music in his green eyes. She loved the way his thick midnight-black hair softly curled. His masculine features handsome enough to make her mouth go dry. The tall, rangy build. Shoulders, narrow hips and long muscled legs that showed to advantage in the hand-tailored clothes. No readymades for Kit. And there was the charm. The good Lord had given an extra large supply to him. And there was music inside her from the appreciative male grin, and the way his eyes lingered on her, as if she were the Only woman in his world.
It was miserable to be shy and plain and not know what to do.
Kit took the decision from her. He hummed an old waltz tune and stepped close and bowed. “May I have this dance?”
“Kit, I truly don’t know what to do.”
“Trust me, you will.” He placed one of her hands on his shoulder, one of his on her waist. Her free hand he held within his own. “I’m going to enjoy teaching you, Bridie.”
She lifted heavy-lidded violet eyes to his. “I think it’s long past time that I learned.”
He hummed and counted the steps for her.
Bridie simply hummed, her body that is, she couldn’t open her mouth busy as she was absorbing the heady scents of a woodsy soap and bay rum, the warmth of his hand holding hers, the heat of his touch at her waist. Her body felt fever flushed with every turn that brushed her breasts against his chest.
The chiming of the hour fell in a moment of silence. Bridie opened her eyes and found that they stood in the center of the parlor, no longer dancing, but swaying back and forth. Her head rested against Kit’s chest where the racing beat of her heart played another music for her.
“Bridie,” he whispered with his lips against the faint spicy scent of her hair, “the dance is over. Time to go home. You will allow me the pleasure of escorting you home, won’t you?”
“Kit?”
“Hmmm.”
“I am home.”
“We’ll pretend we took the buggy ride, and you invited me inside. I want to kiss you good night. And I’m trying to hold off as long as I can ’cause I don’t want to leave you at all.”
Something in his voice tripped a warning cord. Kit was asking for more. Bridie reluctantly lifted her head and tilted it back so she could look up at his face. The desire was in his eyes, but she knew a stab of fear. Could she face herself in the morning if she asked him to stay?
He slipped both arms around her. His forehead touched hers. Bridie licked her bottom lip. Kit’s gaze went to her mouth. Her flesh seemed suddenly hot, then cold. Her heart was beating too fast. Shimmers of warmth spread inside her. Kit stroked her spine, lingering at the small of her back. His lips were slightly parted, hovering above her own. She closed her eyes. Her breath caught, feeling his warm mouth skim the shape of her ear. Shimmers turned to heated bursts with the slow slide of his lips down the side of her neck.
The small sounds were hers. She felt him over every inch and nerve end of her body. He pressed a lingering kiss at her temple, then her eyes. She felt surr
ounded by him. His mouth touched the corner of hers. His hand crushed her hair. His murmurs filled her ears with accolades for her hair, her skin, her scent, and taste.
His lips touched hers, rich with masculine promise. His tongue, as arrogant as he could be, stole the moisture from her mouth. Desire rose, heady and hot, for the kiss to go on and on. She ached with pleasure. He deepened the kiss, his hand skimming her side, touching the curve of her breast. Bridie heard more strange sounds coming from her lips, but Kit seemed to approve, for he asked for more.
And when she couldn’t stand, couldn’t seem to draw breath, he nuzzled her cheek and eased away from her.
“Walk me to the door, Bridie. It’s time for me to go.”
“I …” She couldn’t say another word, or look at him. But she knew what melted chocolate felt and tasted like. It described her insides too perfectly.
He drew her arm through his, but ended up sliding it around her waist as he went to fetch his jacket and hat.
“I’m real glad you didn’t come tonight, Bridie. I had more pleasure this past hour than sharing you would have given me.” He cupped her chin and kissed her again. “I don’t know if I’ll get much sleep tonight. But if I do, I’ll be dreaming about you. Drive out with me Sunday.”
“Sunday?” Her mouth tingled from his heat. She wanted to be in his arms, and knew she couldn’t say it.
“If you’re worried, I’ll bring along a chaperon. Now lock up.”
And he waited until he heard the turn of the key. But each time he looked back, he saw that the lamp remained lit. Regretfully, Kit kept going. And he wondered why he hadn’t uttered one lie to Bridie.
Chapter 8
Sunday began in a flurry of activity for Bridie. She rushed through chores, all the while begging the Lord’s forgiveness for not attending service. She knew Kit would. What she didn’t know was what time he would call for her.
She spent an hour pinning her braided hair into a coil. She brushed out her black skirt and prayed no one would notice the patch near the hem. Her blue gingham was her best blouse, not that Kit would see it. The day was chilly enough for her to wear a cloak.
Should she make a picnic lunch? The debate with herself was settled with boiling eggs, a jar of pickled green tomatoes, and a loaf of bread she had baked yesterday. And there was the cake Kit had forgotten. And a good thing too, she thought. There was no way she could have hidden her shock at finding her cake in his basket. Then she settled down to wait.
Or tried to. She kept jumping up to peer out the window, paced the hall, the kitchen and parlor, ran upstairs four times to check her hair, pinch her cheeks and bite her lips for color, until she was so flushed, she needed no more.
As the clock ticked away, she tried not to worry who the chaperon would be.
Kit being Kit, he arrived when she was in the kitchen hoping a cup of tea would settle her nerves. After all, this was another first for her.
The teacup rattled as she set it on the saucer. A deep breath allowed her to greet him with a false measure of calm, that dissolved into surprise when she saw who he had brought.
“Laurel, say hello to Miss Delwin.”
A smile touched rosebud lips, and was so close to Kit’s that Bridie had to be forgiven for the quick beat of her pulse, and the butterflies that took up residence in her stomach. She invited them in, all the while thinking what it would be like to have a little girl like Laurel for her own. It was a reminder of loneliness she swiftly buried. Nothing was going to spoil her day.
“Alma didn’t mind?” she asked.
“Mind? My sister was only too happy to have me take her. I hope it’s you who doesn’t mind. I thought this the best way to prove my honorable intentions.” His breath caught seeing Bridie’s smile, and Laurel tugged his hair. She wanted up, then for him to play horsey.
“We’re going for a ride, lamb, that is, if Bridie’s sure she wants to come.”
“Bridie’s sure.” She slipped on her cloak, and went to open the door. Laurel surprised her by demanding up. Kit could barely hold his niece as she squirmed in his arms to get to Bridie.
And once she held the little girl, Kit took advantage to kiss her.
It was a brief meeting of lips, but gazes locked and spoke of warmer desires. Bridie felt so young and gay, she teased him about those honorable intentions. A tease she repeated when she saw his buggy. It was built for two. The leather hood was up making a cozy nook and a big-boned bay was harnessed to the carriage.
She was very aware of his strength when he lifted both of them onto the buggy seat and tucked a lap robe around her. Laurel, waving her arms as if she held the reins, kept urging him to go.
“On your order, imp.”
He kissed the tip of his niece’s nose as if it were the most natural thing in the world for a man to show affection. Bridie liked that about him, even as she tried to cope with the sudden smallness of the buggy’s seat now that Kit sat next to her. She was very warm along the side that pressed against him. He set off at a spanking pace down the lane, then out to the open countryside.
Bridie found it a revealing ride. Kit had infinite patience with Laurel as she went from one lap to another unable to make up her mind. He talked of his plans to build a stud farm and Bridie listened with avid interest. She felt as if she had been given a special gift of seeing a side of Kit rarely shown. But the wind picked up, and Bridie most reluctantly suggested he turn for home.
Laurel was asleep when he pulled up by her front door. Bridie refused his invitation to return home with him for Sunday supper, an invitation that Alma seconded.
“Oh, but wait, Kit. Your cake.”
He drew her close. “Keep it. I’d like to come back and share it with you.”
“Yes, I’d like that, too.”
Her lips were a little softer and trembling when he lifted his head. “Another kiss like that and I won’t need to stoke the fires.”
“Hold that thought. I’ll collect on it later.”
Kit held the thought, too, all the way home. Shy Bridie teased him, sassed him, too. He kept hearing her laugh and seeing her smile, her eyes glowing, cheeks flushed. Her scent stayed with him as did her taste. She had listened to his plans, asked intelligent questions and he couldn’t remember another woman who had. Business talk bored Marylee. Sedalia only wanted to go where she’d be seen with him, and if he didn’t have compliments waiting every time she looked at him, she’d pout.
He was so thoughtful that after supper, Alma took him aside in the kitchen.
“What’s wrong, Kit? And don’t tell me nothing’s bothering you. You’ve been awfully quiet this afternoon.”
“Alma, what’s the worse thing that Tom could do to you? I’m talking about killing any chance that you’d go on loving him.”
She stroked her brother’s cheek. “Oh, Kit, what have you done?”
“Who said anything … ah, hell, Alma. I’m in a pickle barrel.”
“Can I help you?” Her gaze filled with concern.
“Answer me.”
“I don’t know how. I love Tom. I’ve loved him since we were children. I suppose it would strain our marriage if he betrayed my trust in him.” Her voice became hopeful. “Is that what you wanted to know?”
“Just what I figured,” he muttered. “I’m going out.”
“Kit, it’s Bridie, isn’t it? Laurel tried to tell me about a bird, but you’ve been seeing her, haven’t you?”
“Why make a statement then ask a question? Women! Who needs them to complicate a man’s life?”
“You wouldn’t be here, Christopher Robert, if it weren’t for a woman.”
Kit let her have the last word. He had enough on his mind.
Kit kept his horse to a sedate walk. He had a lot of thinking to do. He couldn’t bear the thought of losing High Man to Jamie.
Bridie trusts you. You made her trust you.
And he told the bedeviling nag that at a darn high co
st to himself. He hadn’t suffered through nights of lost sleep since he’d come out of knee-length pants.
All because of Bridie. Innocent, shy Bridie, who kissed him with her heart in her eyes.
You could tell her the truth.
Guilt howled. Kit knew he couldn’t. He’d hurt her. She would retreat and he didn’t think he could stand that.
She was so sweet. Too sensitive. And kind. Different from any other woman he knew. She was prettier and more feminine than he had ever realized. She loved the puppy, and was patient as a saint with Laurel. He couldn’t forget the longing he’d seen in her eyes while she held the little one.
Bridie need someone to protect her.
Mostly from you.
Shut up! I’m working through this. She was honest, and made him confront the nature of his bet. Who did he think he was, and Jamie, too, for that matter? Playing with someone’s life? Who gave him that right?
She was strong and capable. Maybe she’d handle this.
And maybe she’d fall apart.
Maybe Alma was right. He’d done an awful lot of hell-raising these last ten years. And even his bedeviling nag couldn’t stop the smile resulting from fond memories. Then Kit had the strangest thought that he could share some of the less colorful escapades with Bridie.
What was he thinking of? She had him so tied in knots he couldn’t think straight.
Kit turned his horse across the open land to the lane. He could see the small glow of the lamp in the parlor window.
Bridie waited for him. Spice and heat. He ached with a need that chased every thought from his mind.
He thought he had plenty of time. When she opened the door for him, he knew time was against him.
Her smile lit up the darkness. “I thought you’d never get here. Come in, or all the heat will be gone.”
Kit took a long look at her glorious chestnut hair. The coil gone, the braid free, and he remembered too well the feel of that thick silky hair crushed in his hand while he kissed her.
“What’s wrong, Kit? Weren’t you planning on—”
Miss Delwin's Delights Page 7