Montana Bride

by Joan Johnston

  She should have known Dennis wouldn’t let her go. He was happy to cause trouble between her and Karl. She was inexperienced with men, but she was learning fast. Dennis had been pursuing her from the beginning. For some reason she couldn’t fathom, he wanted to cause trouble between her and Karl. “Let me go, Dennis. Please. I want to go.”

  Dennis must have seen the lights bobbing out of the corner of his eye, because he held on until the moment Karl’s light hit their joined hands and then quickly let go.

  Karl arrived a moment later, saw Hetty’s hand still extended, holding the gift Dennis had given her, and said, “What’s that?”

  Hetty felt literally sick to her stomach. “It’s a Christmas gift from Dennis,”

  “I didn’t think you’d mind if I gave your bride a gift,” Dennis said.

  Hetty saw the muscle working in Karl’s jaw and knew it was useless to try and explain that she hadn’t asked for the gift, that she didn’t want the gift, and that given a choice, she would have thrown it away.

  “Good night, Karl,” Dennis said as he picked up his lantern and turned back to the bunkhouse. “Merry Christmas.”

  “Come on,” Karl said to Hetty. “Pick up your lantern. Let’s get back to the house.”

  “Karl, I—”

  “Don’t say anything. I don’t want to hear excuses for why you were standing out here in the dark with Dennis Campbell.”

  “But I—”

  Karl didn’t wait for her. He simply headed for the house. Griffin kept pace with him, but Grace waited for Hetty to pick up her lantern and walked beside her back to the house.

  “Dennis Campbell is a rat,” Grace said.

  Hetty was surprised into nervous laughter. “What?”

  “I know you didn’t plan to meet Dennis out here. If Karl stopped to think about it, he’d know it, too. But Karl isn’t sure you like him, so it’s easy for Dennis to make him jealous.”

  “I don’t think Karl likes me enough to be jealous of Dennis.”

  “Karl’s in love with you,” Grace said.

  Hetty stopped in her tracks. “How do you know that?”

  “He’s been besotted—head over teakettle—since the first time he laid eyes on you. I’m not as sure that he loves you,” Grace said.

  “What’s the difference?” Hetty asked.

  “A man in love with you wants to take you to bed. A man who loves you cares about you whether he can take you to bed or not.”

  Hetty wondered where a girl Grace’s age had acquired that sort of knowledge. And whether she could possibly be right.

  “Did you accomplish whatever you went to the barn to do?” Hetty asked.

  Grace smiled. “Yep. Karl was a big help.”

  “Christmas has always been my favorite time of year,” Hetty said. “How about you?”

  Grace shrugged. “We never had a tree of our own. Sometimes the saloon would put one up. There was never much money for presents, but I always made sure Griffin got something.”

  Who made sure you got something? Hetty wondered. And realized it was likely nobody had. Hetty had been spoiled and pampered her whole life. There had been boxes and boxes of presents for her under the tree every year before the Great Fire. She at least had those memories of great Christmases in the past. She wanted more than anything to make happy memories for Grace.

  “Maybe Saint Nicholas will show up with something for you this year,” Hetty said.

  “I know there’s no Saint Nicholas,” Grace said. “And so do you. I know you didn’t have a way to buy anything for me for Christmas, Hetty, and I don’t mind. Really, I don’t. I’m just glad to know Griffin and I have a roof over our heads and food to eat and two parents to take care of us. That’s really the best Christmas present of all.”

  Hetty slid an arm around Grace’s shoulder and pulled her close. “I’m glad you’re happy having me and Karl for parents. Don’t worry about Griffin having a wonderful Christmas. I think Saint Nicholas just might surprise you both.”

  Hetty didn’t think Grace and Griffin would ever fall asleep. Griffin was excited by the prospect of a lot of gifts under the tree and had kept Grace awake with questions about what she thought they might find there in the morning.

  Hetty had gone into their bedroom several times to shush them. “You know, Saint Nicholas won’t come until you’re sound asleep,” she told Griffin as she pulled the covers up under his arms. She knew better than to try and kiss him good night, but she was able to brush a lock of dark hair from his forehead before he wriggled away.

  “Is Karl still down at the barn?” Grace asked.

  As soon as Karl had made sure she and the kids were safely back at the house, he’d returned to the barn, saying he hadn’t quite finished what he was working on. Whatever that was.

  “Yes, he’s still out there,” Hetty said. “You know, the sooner you go to sleep, the sooner it’ll be morning.”

  Grace laughed. “The time’s not likely to fly any faster just ’cause we’re asleep.”

  Hetty tucked Grace more completely under the covers, then kissed her on the forehead. “You never know. Stranger things have happened on Christmas Eve. Now go to sleep!”

  Hetty closed the door as she left the children’s room and gasped when she turned and found Karl standing right behind her. “I didn’t hear you come in,” she whispered.

  “I didn’t want to wake the kids,” he replied in an equally soft voice. “I had to finish wrapping up their gifts. I’ve put them under the tree.”

  Hetty stared at him, trying to tell whether he was still upset with her, but his brown eyes were caught in the shadows created by the candles on the tree and the single lantern on the table.

  At last he said, “The tree looks nice.”

  “The kids helped me make the decorations. I left the candles burning so you could see it. We need to blow them out before they burn out.”

  Karl followed Hetty back to the Christmas tree. She leaned forward to blow out one of the candles, but he stopped her by slipping an arm around her waist from behind. “I dreamed of a Christmas tree like this, in my own home, with my wife and kids.”

  She looked over her shoulder and saw the wry twist of his lips. Just not this wife and these kids, Hetty thought. Her heart sank. She’d hoped the Christmas spirit might encourage Karl to forgive her. After Dennis’s antics tonight, she was afraid Karl would never feel like he could trust her.

  “We’d better blow out the candles,” she said.

  Karl leaned across her shoulder and blew out the closest candle. “Your turn,” he said.

  A frisson of feeling had run up Hetty’s spine when she felt Karl’s breath against her ear, but she ignored it and concentrated on blowing out the candle closest to her. Then Karl took his turn again. Hetty kept expecting him to let go of her as they moved around the tree extinguishing candles, but he didn’t. Pretty soon, there was no light left in the room except the burned-down coals in the fire and the lantern on the kitchen table.

  Hetty realized Karl hadn’t even taken off his coat. Maybe he was planning on leaving again. She asked, “Are you finally done in the barn?”

  “All finished.” He pointed under the tree and said, “Where did those other gifts come from?”

  “Those are Grace’s and Griffin’s presents for you and me.”

  Karl looked surprised. “They’re giving me presents?”

  “Why wouldn’t they? You’re their father.”

  “Where did they get them?”

  Hetty shrugged and felt her breasts brush against his forearm. “Made them, I suppose.”

  “You didn’t help?”

  Hetty shook her head. “They were very secretive. I did give them brown paper and string to wrap them up.” She hesitated and said, “My present to you is also under the tree.”

  “Along with Dennis’s gift to you?”

  Hetty felt her heart squeeze at the bitterness in Karl’s voice. “I’d like a cup of coffee,” she said, shoving Karl’s arm away
with both of her hands and moving past him into the kitchen.

  “Pour one for me, too.”

  Hetty went directly to the stove and poured two cups of coffee. She brought them to the table and set them down, surprised that her hands weren’t visibly shaking, because she was certainly trembling inside with exasperation and frustration. How was she ever going to undo the damage Dennis had done?

  Karl took off his coat and hat and hung them on the rack by the door, then sat down across from her at the table.

  “Dennis surprised me in the meadow,” she blurted. “I wasn’t expecting anyone to be there. When he caught up to me, I was scared and I dropped my lantern and it went out. That’s why we were together in the dark.”

  “I didn’t ask for an explanation, Hetty.”

  “I don’t encourage him, Karl. I don’t even like him. He—”

  “That’s enough, Hetty.”

  “I’m trying to tell you—”

  “I don’t want to hear it.”

  She scraped her chair back and ran to the Christmas tree and knelt down and searched for the small box Dennis had given her. She brought it back to Karl and threw it on the table in front of him. “I don’t want it. Throw it away. Get rid of it!”

  “Dennis is my friend. He’d be insulted if I did that.”

  “So you suspect me, but not him?” Hetty said.

  “You must admit you’ve been lying to me pretty much nonstop since I met you.”

  “I told you why I did that!” Hetty said.

  Karl rose and caught her by the shoulders. “Keep your voice down. You’ll wake the kids.”

  Hetty pounded on Karl’s chest with her fisted hands. “You have to believe me. You have to give me a chance. You have to stop blaming me for everything. It’s not my fault!”

  “You’re going to wake up the kids!” Karl hissed.

  “I don’t care—”

  He scooped her up in his arms, carried her into their bedroom, and kicked the door closed behind him. He threw her on the bed and, before she’d even stopped bouncing, said, “This is all your fault! Every bit of it.”

  Hetty scrambled off the bed and stood toe-to-toe with him, ranting at him in a voice that wouldn’t wake the children, “I may have a lot of flaws, Karl, but I’m not a cheater!”

  “You cheated me the moment you took Mrs. Templeton’s place.”

  “I didn’t do that to hurt you.”

  “Maybe not, but you had plenty of chances to tell me the truth. And didn’t.”

  “Fair enough. But I’m ready and willing now to do whatever it takes to convince you—”

  Karl’s kiss cut her off. His arms slid around her and pulled her close, so she could feel his muscular chest against her breasts. He caught her buttocks and held her tight between his legs, so she could feel the heat and the hardness of him.

  Then his mouth was on hers again, his tongue seeking entrance. Hetty gasped at the exquisite feeling as his tongue intruded, tasting. She pushed her tongue into Karl’s mouth and heard him make a guttural sound of pleasure. One of his hands captured her breast, while the other reached for her hand and carried it to the fly of his jeans.

  Hetty wasn’t sure what he wanted her to do, but his hand pressed hers against the man-part of him and then let go.

  She could leave her hand there. Or she could remove it. Karl was giving her a choice. The kiss ended and Karl looked into her eyes.

  “I want you, Hetty.”

  No longer I love you, but I want you.

  Hetty felt sad and relieved at the same time. Sad because they’d both lost something. Relieved because she could honestly reply, “And I want you, Karl.”

  She didn’t know where that sultry voice had come from. She traced the solid length of him beneath the denim with her fingers and saw him swallow hard.

  “Hetty, I—”

  She touched his lips with her fingertips, cutting him off. She saw the longing in his eyes and knew what he wanted for Christmas. She could give him the loving wife he’d bargained for. At least for tonight. She kept her other hand right where it was and said, “Make love to me, Karl.”

  It wasn’t much in the way of instruction, but it turned out to be plenty. This night of love was a Christmas gift to Karl. The only thing she had to do was please him.

  That turned out to be easier than she’d imagined, because everything she did caused appreciative sounds. Male hands returned the favors she granted, so that soon Hetty wasn’t sure who was doing the giving and who was doing the getting.

  “Karl,” she moaned.

  “What, sweetheart?”

  “Do that again.”

  “Gladly. How does that feel?”

  “Amazing. Do you like what I’m doing?”

  He responded with a deep kiss that mimicked the ultimate act that all this foreplay was leading up to. Hetty wanted to feel her naked flesh next to Karl’s. She unbuttoned his shirt and shoved it off his shoulders and reached for his long john shirt and pushed it off over his head. She kissed his throat and shivered as he did the same to her.

  She ran her hands over his muscular shoulders and biceps. “You’re so strong, Karl.”

  “And you’re so soft,” he said, cupping her breasts and teasing her nipples through her dress. “I want to feel you next to me.”

  He unbuttoned the dress and pulled it down off her shoulders, then hugged her tight. Hetty had never felt anything so good. She ran her fingers through his hair, liking the softness of it, then slid her hand down to his nape and played with the curls there. And heard him moan.

  He was too impatient to take the time to completely undress, and Hetty was willing to indulge him. He grabbed a handful of her hair and used it to angle her head for his kiss, but the kiss only made her want more.

  “Please, Karl.” That sultry voice again. Begging. Pleading.

  He let go of her hair so he could shove the necessary clothing out of the way, then toppled them both onto the bed and thrust inside her.

  Hetty had been so focused on giving Karl pleasure that it took her a moment to realize that there was no pain. And a moment more to realize that his hands were doing something to her down there that was making her body sing. And dance.

  Her body undulated toward Karl, her hips moving in rhythm with his. The pleasure grew and changed, so it was almost unbearable.

  “Karl!”

  “Come with me, Hetty.”

  Hetty’s body took over from her conscious mind as the pleasure crested like a giant wave. She could feel the pressure rising as the wave threatened to break. And then did.

  Hetty clung tightly to Karl’s strong shoulders, the only certain thing in an uncertain world. Then she felt Karl join her, his head flung back, his body taut as he gave a cry of exultation.

  Karl slumped onto her, his lungs like bellows, his shoulders damp with sweat.

  She kissed his throat between panting breaths and whispered, “Merry Christmas, Karl.”

  He chuckled.

  “What’s so funny?”

  “We are.” He moved away, pulling up his jeans and rebuttoning them. She felt bereft. And chilled. Her body, she realized, was damp with sweat, and she reached down to retrieve the covers. Before she could, Karl pulled her close and hugged her.

  Suddenly, she was warm again.

  “Why are we so funny?” she asked.

  “This is not how I imagined Christmas Eve with my wife.”

  “What did you imagine?” she asked, her fingers finding their way to the curls at his nape.

  She felt him quiver. He lowered his head to her shoulder, encouraging her to continue what she was doing. Hetty realized her Christmas present to Karl wasn’t quite complete.

  He needed more than sex. He needed love. Or at least, the appearance of it. Hetty could give him that.

  She ran her hands through his hair, caressing him, giving solace to a wounded heart. She couldn’t say I love you. Or she could, but it would be yet another of the many lies Karl had accused her of tel
ling.

  So she simply said, “Thank you, Karl. For making Christmas Eve wonderful.”

  He lifted his head and looked into her eyes and said, “Yes, it was, wasn’t it? Thank you, Hetty.”

  How had she ever thought that brown eyes were uninteresting? Karl’s eyes glowed with golden warmth. She saw that overlapping front tooth she always found so fascinating and realized he was smiling. She felt warm on the inside, where she hadn’t even realized she’d been cold.

  When Karl pulled away, Hetty asked, “Where are you going?”

  “I think it’s time for Saint Nicholas to make an appearance.”

  “I already filled the children’s stockings.”

  “I think Saint Nicholas has some other stockings to fill.”

  Hetty looked at him quizzically, and his smile became a grin. “Now what’s so funny?” she asked.

  “Just wait till morning,” he said. “You’ll see.”

  Before she could stop him, he grabbed his shirt and was gone from the bedroom. Hetty lay back down and hugged herself, feeling like a kid on Christmas Eve, anxious and excited and wondering what wonderful surprise would be waiting for her when she awoke on Christmas morning.

  “Grace, wake up! Grace, it’s Christmas morning. Wake up!”

  Grace rolled over onto her back, opened her eyes, and realized it was still pitch dark. “You call this morning?” She turned onto her side, pulled the covers up higher on her shoulder, and mumbled, “Go back to bed, Griffin.”

  “It’s Christmas morning,” Griffin said. “The sun is up. I swear it is. Get up, Grace.” He yanked the covers completely off her. “Let’s go see what Saint Nicholas brought us.”

  Grace shivered and sat up to reach for the covers, but Griffin had jerked them all the way to the foot of the bed. Once she was sitting upright, she could clearly see a crack of yellow light over the windowsill. So Christmas morning had, indeed, arrived.