Montana Bride

by Joan Johnston

She waited for him to say more. To bring up another subject. But he stared at the fireplace in silence.

  “Are you worried about Grace and Andy?” The Texan had left without a word right after supper.

  “No.”

  Hetty searched for something she might have said or done to cause this sudden change in Karl’s behavior toward her. She shied away from the obvious. He’d made it very clear over the past few weeks that he wanted to make love to her, that he was only waiting for a signal from her that she was ready to consummate their marriage. Which she hadn’t given.

  There was not much time left before Christmas, which was when the agreed-upon reprieve ended. Hetty knew she was only postponing the inevitable. But things had been going so well between the two of them that she hadn’t wanted anything to upset the apple cart.

  She was afraid that if they made love Karl would know—or somehow figure out—that she was a virgin, and that Grace and Griffin couldn’t be hers. She wanted to believe it wouldn’t matter to him that Grace and Griffin were no relation. But what if she was wrong?

  It probably wouldn’t have mattered if she’d told him the truth sooner. Hetty knew that now. But it was too late to go back and confess everything. And the longer she waited, the worse Karl was going to be hurt. But she didn’t want their lovely evenings together to end, and she was very much afraid that they would when Karl discovered how she’d continued to lie long after she’d sworn she was telling the truth.

  Hetty felt sure that something else besides Griffin’s injury was bothering him tonight, but she was afraid to question him further. What if he was pondering the lack of physical completion in their marriage?

  Hetty couldn’t really blame him. Recently she’d found herself responding to Karl’s increasingly ardent kisses in bed, then chickening out when his hands wandered to places that only husbands touched. Like the top of her thigh. Or the roundness of her belly. Or the tip of her breast, which tingled and became a tight bud when he caressed it.

  Hetty had found those touches thrilling. And terrifying.

  She wanted to do more, but she was too afraid Karl would discover her deception. Especially since she lost all sense of herself when Karl fondled her. It was as though what he was doing to her was happening to someone else. She had no idea what she was liable to do or say in the throes of passion.

  Hetty was doing everything in her power not to fall in love with Karl. Her only experience with love had ended in disaster. She never wanted to experience that kind of pain again. She didn’t dare fall in love with Karl before he knew the truth, because it was entirely likely Karl would reject her when he found out what she’d done.

  And deep down, she didn’t believe she deserved Karl’s love, not when she’d married him under false pretenses. Not when he thought he was falling in love with a woman who didn’t really exist.

  She was simply going to have to buck up her courage and allow him to bed her. It wasn’t fair to keep putting him off. She was still going to be a frightened virgin no matter when he bedded her. She might as well grit her teeth and take the plunge.

  Karl leaned forward in his rocker, then reached an arm around toward the center of his back and flinched.

  “I thought you said you weren’t hurt in that accident today,” Hetty said.

  “It’s only a bruise, I think, but it’s been bothering me all night.”

  “Why didn’t you say something sooner? Stand up and let me take a look.”

  “Why don’t we go into the bedroom?” he said as he rose. “That way I can stay warm by the fire when I take off my shirt.”

  Hetty had only intended to shove his shirt and long johns up out of his trousers to look, but maybe the source of his ache was higher up on his back. “All right,” she said.

  He grabbed the lantern from the table between their rockers and headed for their bedroom.

  They were already in the bedroom by the time she realized Karl could just as easily have taken his shirt off by the fireplace in the other room. She figured he was probably worried about Grace finding him half clothed in the parlor.

  Hetty closed the bedroom door behind her and turned to discover that Karl had dropped his plaid wool shirt on the bed and was already attacking his long john shirt. She admired the ripple of muscle along his spine and shoulder blades as he yanked the shirt up over his head. She noticed the dark bruise near the small of his back, but her eye was drawn away from it by the corded muscle across his shoulders.

  Hetty let out a slow breath as Karl turned to face her. He’d never stripped down completely before. He’d always kept his long johns on when they went to bed. She stared at him, entranced.

  When had his shoulders become so broad? When had his arms gotten so strong? When had his forearms become so lean and sinewy? How had his waist gotten so narrow and his stomach so flat?

  Hetty felt her stomach flutter. She felt an ache lower down, a flood of feeling that made her knees go weak. Karl tucked his thumbs into the front of his trousers and long johns, dragging them down low enough to expose his hip bones.

  She felt her mouth go dry.

  This was Karl? This man with a visible rib cage and a washboard belly? With shoulders so broad she wondered if she could get her arms around them? With a belly so flat and hard she thought she could bounce a coin off it?

  Hetty followed the line of downy black hair that started at Karl’s navel to where it disappeared beneath the denim. The man part of him was straining against the fly of his jeans. For the first time in her life, she wanted to touch. Hungered to touch.

  Her eyes skittered away and continued roaming his body, admiring what she saw. She looked up at last and met Karl’s gaze.

  His golden brown eyes had never looked so brilliant. His glance had never been so intense. “Hetty?”

  Just the one word. Spoken with a yearning she could feel all the way to her bones. “Yes, Karl.”

  It took him a second to realize it wasn’t a question. It was an answer.

  In two strides Karl was across the room and enfolded her in his arms. His very powerful arms.

  She laughed breathlessly. “You don’t know your own strength, Karl.”

  He loosened his grasp enough to allow her a deep breath before he stole it away again by kissing her. His tongue plunged into her mouth, mimicking what he wanted to do to her body. Hetty felt like she was caught up in a whirlwind, dizzy and disoriented. She slung her arms around Karl’s neck and hung on for dear life.

  He broke the kiss long enough to say, “I want to feel your skin against mine.” He didn’t wait for her to undress, simply yanked on her cotton blouse. Buttons pinged like hail on the hardwood floor. He shoved the cloth down from her shoulders, blouse and chemise both, until her breasts were bared.

  Before she had a chance to feel embarrassed, he lowered his head and suckled.

  Hetty’s knees turned to noodles.

  She needn’t have worried about falling. Karl held her close and took his pleasure. And gave it back to her again.

  Hetty wanted to touch, but the only things she could reach were Karl’s head and shoulders. She grasped his hair and bent her head to kiss his shoulder. It was salty, so she licked it. And then bit.

  And heard Karl groan.

  “Did I hurt you?” she asked anxiously.

  “Do it again,” he said. “Kiss me. Bite me. Love me.”

  Before she could reply, he was kissing her again, thrusting his tongue into her mouth and creating the most exquisite sensations imaginable. Hetty tasted him in return, and felt Karl’s hold on her tighten.

  Because she had no idea what to do, Hetty followed Karl’s lead. When he lowered his head to kiss her belly, she leaned forward and flicked her tongue against his nipple. He made an approving sound, and she did it again.

  She felt Karl stripping the rest of her clothes off, and in the spirit of giving as good as she got, she reached down to undo the buttons on his Levi’s.

  Hetty was careful not to look as Karl shoved them down
to his ankles, along with his long john bottoms. He sat down to yank off his boots and socks, then slid out of his jeans. Hetty used the break to remove her shoes. Karl finished before her and knelt to rip off her stockings, the last item of clothing she had on.

  Hetty was grateful there was so little light in the room, just the single lantern and the glow of coals in the fireplace.

  She shivered, more from fear than cold, but Karl said, “Let’s get you under the covers.”

  Hetty was happy to hide herself under the sheets, but Karl was beside her an instant later and once more took her in his arms. She felt the male part of him, hot and hard, pressed against her.

  And panicked.

  “I can’t do this, Karl!” she said, fighting to be free of his embrace.

  “Don’t be afraid, Hetty. It’s just me. Karl.”

  Hetty stopped struggling and hid her face against his chest, trying to control her panic. She had to do this sometime. It might as well be now. She’d gone this far. She should just let this happen.

  But she couldn’t seem to catch her breath.

  “Easy now. Take a deep breath,” Karl said.

  “I can’t!”

  “You can. It’s all right, Hetty. I have you. You’re safe with me.”

  Hetty’s whole body was trembling. With fear? With unquenched desire? She didn’t have a clue. Karl was still talking, but she had no idea what he was saying. She sought out a source of comfort and ended up pressing her lips against his. His mouth was pliant as he kissed her back. Hetty slid her tongue along the seam of his lips, seeking succor.

  Karl let her in.

  Hetty felt Karl’s hands soothing her, caressing her. Felt a dozen frissons of pleasure from the warmth of his touch. Felt her body ache where his fingers wandered and a yearning for…something more.

  Karl turned her so she was under him, and she lifted her hips, seeking his warmth, wanting him close again. He slid his palms beneath her, and spread her thighs wide with his knees. She grabbed his shoulders and urged him down to her.

  He paused with his face so close she could feel his warm breath on her cheek, looked into her eyes, and said, “My wife. At last.”

  Then he plunged himself inside her.

  Hetty bit her lip to keep from screaming at the excruciating pain.

  “What the hell?”

  She froze. He knows. Or suspects. I have to distract him. I have to keep pretending, or all is lost.

  Hetty slid her arms around Karl’s neck, pulled him close, and whispered, “Please, Karl. Don’t stop.”

  He remained still for another moment, then thrust his hips, seating himself to the hilt.

  Hetty let out a cautious breath. That hadn’t hurt as much. She gasped when he withdrew, expecting pain, but there was none. She tensed when he thrust again, but this time, not only was there no pain, it almost felt good.

  She realized her fingernails were piercing Karl’s shoulders and made herself relax her hands. She slid her hands upward into his hair, concentrating on the silky feel of it, trying to forget what was happening down below.

  Karl’s thrusts grew faster and stronger, until at last he threw his head back and made a guttural sound of exultation.

  He slumped onto her body, then freed himself and turned over onto his back, pulling the sheet up to hide his nakedness.

  So. It was done. She was his wife. Did he know the truth? Or did he only suspect it?

  Hetty waited to hear what Karl had to say.

  His breathing had returned to normal, but the sweat was still drying on his chest when he spoke. All he said was, “I love you, Hetty.”

  Hetty froze. She’d been expecting questions, not a declaration of love. She had no answer prepared for what he’d said.

  She didn’t want to lie to Karl. Or hurt him. She loved what he’d done to her. With her. How he’d made her body sing. At least, before that last part. But that didn’t mean she loved him.

  Hetty had done everything in her power not to love Karl Norwood. She was his mail-order bride, nothing more, nothing less. She liked him far too much to love him. Loving a man she was deceiving so completely was a disaster waiting to happen.

  So she said nothing. But she was sure he heard her message loud and clear: You might love me. But I don’t love you.

  He got up and began dressing. “We’d better get moving. It’s about time we took over for Grace. She must be pretty tired by now.”

  Hetty saw the closed look on Karl’s face and knew she’d hurt him. Badly. She should have lied. She was certainly good enough at it.

  But it was too late now.

  She needed to get out of bed and get dressed, but she was suddenly shy, aware of her nakedness as she hadn’t been when Karl had been making love to her. She kept the sheet tucked up under her arms as she reached for her pantalets.

  Karl already had his trousers back on and said, “I’ll take the rest of my things and dress by the fire in the other room.”

  Then he was gone, leaving the door ajar.

  Hetty sat slumped in the bed. She felt like crying. She was going to have to find some way to repair the damage she’d done, but she had no idea how.

  You can offer to make love to him. He’ll probably want to do it again. So do you, if you’re honest. At least, you want to do the first part again.

  Hetty was still pondering her options when she heard Karl yelling from the other room. Her blood froze when she made out what he and Grace were saying.

  “Why did you let Griffin fall asleep?”

  “I’m sorry, Karl,” Grace replied. “He can’t have been asleep for very long. Just wake him up.”

  “I’ve tried,” Karl said. “I can’t.”

  When Karl left the bedroom, he was angry. When he’d told Hetty “I love you,” what he’d really meant was, I forgive you for lying through your teeth. For not being who you said you were. For showing up with two children who cannot possibly be yours. He’d been ready and willing to accept whatever story she told him and move on with their lives from there. Because the truth was, he’d somehow fallen in love with her, despite all the lies.

  Except, she hadn’t bothered with another story. She’d shot him a single guilty look and said nothing at all.

  Karl had known when he married Hetty that his bride might never love him. But he hadn’t expected it to hurt quite so much when she made it clear that she didn’t.

  He felt used. Hetty hadn’t wanted a husband, she’d wanted a home for herself and those two kids. Having a husband was simply a necessary evil. She’d submitted to his lovemaking because he’d made it clear to her that making love was part of the deal.

  Had Hetty really thought he wouldn’t notice she was a virgin? He’d been stupid about a lot of things where she was concerned, but he was wising up fast. Who was Henrietta Wentworth Templeton? And where had she picked up the son and daughter she was passing off as her own?

  Karl shoved open the door to the kids’ bedroom intending to surprise them into confessing the truth, only to find them both sound asleep. Which was when he realized that the last thing Griffin should be was asleep.

  He crossed the room in two strides, shook Griffin’s shoulders, and said, “Wake up!”

  The kid didn’t move. He lay still as a stone.

  Karl sat down on the bed, lifted the boy into his arms, and said, “Wake up, Griffin.”

  Grace sat up in the next bed, groaning and stretching and yawning. “What’s wrong?”

  “Why did you let Griffin fall asleep?” Karl demanded.

  “I’m sorry, Karl. He can’t have been asleep for very long. Just wake him up.”

  “I’ve tried,” Karl said grimly. “I can’t.”

  “Oh, no!” Grace climbed out of her bed and into Griffin’s in a flash, crawling as close to her brother as she could get. “Griffin! Wake up!”

  The boy’s head lolled back over Karl’s arm.

  “What’s wrong with him?” she cried. “Why isn’t he moving? Is he dead?”


  Griffin’s eyes fluttered, and he licked his lips.

  “He’s alive!” Grace sobbed. “Griffin, wake up! You’re scaring me.”

  The boy groaned and mumbled, “Stop shouting, Grace. You’re making my head hurt.”

  “Open your eyes,” Karl ordered. “Look at me.”

  Griffin blinked as his eyes adjusted to the glow of the lantern on the bedside table. He lifted his head and finally focused his gaze on Karl.

  Karl studied Griffin’s dark brown eyes. The pupils seemed normal and both were the same size. “Do you feel dizzy? Or like you have to puke?”

  Griffin started to shake his head, squinted his eyes closed instead, and said, “No. I just want to go back to sleep.”

  “Sorry, kid. You can’t do that,” Karl said. “Not until we’re sure you don’t have a concussion.”

  Karl had barely finished speaking when Hetty arrived in the doorway looking disheveled and frightened. She was barefoot, her tousled blond curls tumbling over her shoulders, her blue eyes luminous with unshed tears. She’d obviously grabbed the first thing she could find to cover her nakedness, because she was wearing that flimsy nightgown through which he could see the shadow of the pink nipples he’d so recently sucked.

  Karl felt a flare of lust so strong that, if the children hadn’t been present, he would have taken her then and there—against the wall, on the floor, on the bed—anywhere he could find a flat surface to have his way with her.

  “Grace, go get in bed in your mother’s room,” Karl said.

  “I want to stay with Griffin.”

  Karl’s response was abrupt and unsympathetic. “Do what I said!”

  Grace shot Hetty a fearful look and fled.

  “She’s just a child,” Hetty said, stepping farther into the room. “It’s not her fault she fell asleep.”

  “It’s not Grace I’m angry with,” he replied.

  Hetty’s face blanched.

  “I’ll stay with Griffin,” he said. “You go keep Grace company.”