Gideon's Bride

by Amelia Autin

  He solved the dilemma for her. His arm snaked out and snagged her knee, exerting just enough pressure to pull her down beside him.

  “What...”

  “You look tired. So am I” was all he said as he removed her hat and his. Then he shifted onto his back, pillowing his head on one arm, and stared at the sky. He sighed, a deep, contented sound, and Rennie relaxed, turning onto her back as well.

  They were silent for the space of a few heartbeats, watching the clouds scudding across the sky. Then Rennie said, “Montana may be called Big Sky Country, but Wyoming has its share, too.”

  “Yeah. I know what you mean.”

  “I guess I appreciate the open spaces a lot more now than when I was younger. I thought I remembered what it was like, but I was wrong. Living for so many years in a place where even a small piece of sky is a luxury, you forget how vast it is out here. So much blue.”

  “The nights are even better. You can see the stars out here like nowhere else.”

  “I know. The first night I stayed in Carter’s Junction, I went outside and just stared at the stars for almost an hour. Diamonds on blue velvet, that’s what they looked like to me. So different from what I’d become used to in L.A. I’d forgotten just how breathtaking the night sky can be.”

  Rennie was silent for a moment, then added, “Kind of makes you feel that your problems aren’t that important in the grand scheme of things, doesn’t it.”

  “Yeah.”

  Gideon turned his head slightly, smiling, and Rennie smiled back. His hazel eyes were green again, she noticed, and wondered why.

  A sudden windy gust of cooler air made her shiver, and Gideon pulled her gently closer. “Come here,” he said, curling his body to shield her.

  After only a slight hesitation she snuggled next to his warmth, not at all unnerved by his nearness. Surprisingly, it seemed natural.

  Gideon watched sleep overcome Rennie, watched the darkly lashed eyelids flutter and close, saw the gentle rise and fall of her chest slow. In sleep she looked impossibly young. He wondered if she’d lose that gentle, innocent look someday, if somehow life with him, a life without love, would erase that soft, vulnerable expression.

  He frowned at the thought. He didn’t want Rennie to change.

  Had he ever met a woman like her? So open and trusting in some ways, so shy and inhibited in others. Gideon smiled, thinking about how much fun it was to tease her, to watch her blush. It made him feel young again, and it was wonderful.

  I’m only thirty-three, not fifty-three. Why shouldn’t I feel young? I haven’t had this much fun since the last time Johanna and I went to the Wyoming State Fair and Rodeo the summer before she got pregnant with Andrew.

  Johanna. The name was like a cold rain shower shocking Gideon into awareness. Johanna. He’d scarcely thought of her since yesterday afternoon. Not even last night in his dreams had the memory of her come to him. And this morning, instead of his usual realization of Johanna’s absence from his bed, he’d awakened with a song on his lips.

  Rennie had replaced Jo in his thoughts.

  No. It’s been too long for me since Jo died, that’s all. It’s sex. Just sex. Rennie’s attractive, convenient and available, and as my wife she’s acceptable to my conscience. That’s all it is.

  But he knew it was a lie. He’d told Rennie the truth last night in her motel room. His desire was for her, not just for a reasonably attractive body. Hell, he could have had plenty of women by this time from Carter’s Junction and the surrounding area if that was all he wanted.

  He’d had offers, but he’d turned them all down. He’d been tempted a couple of times, but had only come close once: after he’d gotten rid of the last housekeeper and he’d had to take his kids to Emily’s place again.

  Everything had reached a crisis point then. Jo had been dead for a year and a half, and he’d finally accepted she wasn’t ever coming back. He’d just brought Nicki home from another round of doctor visits, this time at the medical center in Casper, defeated once more. They’d arrived at the Rocking L a day earlier than expected and he’d walked in on his housekeeper, Mrs. Marsh, whipping five-year-old Trina with one of his leather belts. He’d come damn close to murder at that moment. Fortunately for Mrs. Marsh, she’d read her probable fate on his face and resigned on the spot, saving herself and him. He’d held a sobbing Trina on his lap until she fell asleep. When he’d carried her to bed and slipped her into her nightgown, he’d seen the welts on the backs of her legs.

  He’d cried that night. He’d tucked the covers around Trina and kissed her, checked on his baby son, and helped Nicki unpack and get ready for bed. Then he’d gone to his own room, closed the door, and wept. He hadn’t cried when he heard about Jo’s death, and the few tears he’d shed when he buried her had scarcely touched his deep well of grief. But he’d wept that night for everything. For Jo, who was gone. For Nicki, who was lost. For Trina, for Andrew, and for himself.

  The next day he’d told his foreman not to expect him back for a few days, took his children to Emily and went off to Casper again, where nobody knew him, to get quietly drunk.

  That weekend was lost in a haze. He had vague memories of a number of women coming on to him in the bars. One in particular, tall and full-figured with long blond hair, had attached herself to his side Saturday night, and he’d let her stay. Then when he was drunk enough, he’d taken her back to his motel room.

  She hadn’t really looked like Johanna, except in the most superficial way. But to his alcohol-fogged brain, she was Jo come back to him. He’d kissed her and caressed her, told her what he wanted to do to her in coaxing whispers as he’d done with Johanna, but then the woman spoke and the illusion was shattered. He couldn’t get it back. Desire faded and reality returned. Jo was lost to him forever.

  He had apologized to the woman. She’d let him call a cab for her and give her money for the fare.

  He never even knew her name.

  He’d spent Sunday morning drying out, and then had headed home. On the long drive north he’d taken a good, hard look at himself, hating what he’d almost done, and then made himself a promise. He’d never take another woman to his bed unless he could desire her for herself.

  He’d reached a hard decision, too, as his truck ate up the empty miles. He’d decided to advertise, not for a new housekeeper this time, but for a wife. The decision had brought Rennie into his life.

  And now he wanted her, not just because she was attractive and available. He wanted her because she was Rennie. Bright and sassy, shy and forthright. And sexy. Damned sexy.

  He wanted her in his bed, blushes and all. He wanted to tease her with words and tantalize her with kisses. He wanted to taste those firm, round breasts and coax them into arousal with his tongue. He wanted to part those silky legs and caress her there until she melted for him. Then he wanted to slide into her body and lose himself in her, taking both of them to the peak and beyond. And he wanted to lie in her arms afterward. He’d been so cold for so long. He needed the fire that he’d found in her to warm him through the long, lonely nights.

  He needed it badly. Needed her badly.

  As she slept, Rennie moved closer to him. He shifted and carefully slid one arm under her head, curving the other across her slight frame. Predictably, his body reacted with a surge of desire as he pressed against her, but he didn’t care anymore. It felt good to hold a woman again, even if only in sleep. Then he corrected himself. It felt good to hold Rennie. In any way.

  His last coherent thought before he drifted to sleep himself was that a little over two weeks ago he hadn’t even known she existed.

  Chapter 7

  An hour passed. The air turned colder and the sky darkened. Gideon stirred, but neither he nor Rennie woke.

  Then the heavens opened, deluging them with icy rain.

  “Damn!”

  Gideon instantly reached for his hat and jumped to his feet. Rennie followed suit only a second later, grabbing the blanket as she scrambled up. His e
yes judged the distance to the nearest shelter, then he faced her and jerked his head toward the open door of the livery stable. She nodded her acknowledgment.

  “Can you make it okay? I have to get the horses,” he shouted above the hiss of the rain, pulling the Stetson low over his eyes to shield his face.

  “Go on,” she urged, throwing the wet and unwieldy bedroll over her shoulder. “I’ll be fine.”

  They separated, Rennie dashing for the dubious protection of the barn and Gideon making his way to the split-rail fence where they’d tethered their horses.

  Soaked and shivering, she stood in the doorway and watched him unhitch both horses and lead them toward the stable. The rain was coming down in sheets, and neither horse was happy about it. When lightning forked down from the sky close by and thunder boomed, the buckskin took exception. He reared and fought the reins. The chestnut mare caught the buckskin’s snorting terror and suddenly Gideon had more than he could handle.

  Almost before he realized he needed an extra pair of hands they were there. Rennie took Sweetwater’s reins from him, leaving him to deal with the much larger gelding.

  Even though most of Gideon’s attention was focused on avoiding the buckskin’s flailing hooves and bringing him under control, he was aware of how competently Rennie was dealing with the mare.

  “Get her under cover,” he shouted over his shoulder. “Don’t wait for me.”

  She nodded, though she knew he couldn’t see her. “Come on, girl,” she coaxed over the pounding rain. “Come on, Sweetwater.”

  Once separated from the other horse, Sweetwater became docile and easily led. Rennie brought her into the livery stable, sparing a backward glance to see how Gideon was faring.

  Man and horse were locked in a struggle that appeared to be an unequal match—twelve hundred pounds of terrified horseflesh against two-hundred-twenty pounds of determined man. But Gideon was no stranger to this situation and he knew exactly how to use whatever leverage he could, both verbal and physical, to its best advantage. His boot heels planted deep in what was rapidly becoming mud, the muscles of his arms distended, and his voice pitched in its most soothing tones, Gideon battled the big buckskin. Although she couldn’t hear his exact words over the rain, Rennie could imagine what he was saying to the horse to reassure him.

  She turned away and twined Sweetwater’s reins around the closest post, then busied herself with unsaddling the mare. In the absence of anything better, she used the saddle blanket to wipe down her horse. By the time Gideon finally brought the gelding inside and tied him down, she was almost finished.

  Like Rennie, Gideon saw to the comfort of his horse before he gave a thought to his own condition. Rennie gave Sweetwater one last pat, then moved to help Gideon. They worked side by side in silence for a minute, then he spoke.

  “I’m sorry about this.”

  She threw him a startled glance. “About what?” He motioned to the rain visible through the open door of the stable, and she said, “It’s not your fault. No one can control the weather.”

  “Yeah. But I should have checked the forecast and not relied only on the sky. I know better than that. Weather around here can be pretty damn unpredictable, especially at this time of year.”

  Rennie shivered. She couldn’t help it, now that the initial rush of adrenaline had subsided. Nor could she prevent her teeth from chattering. She was drenched and the air was so cold that steam was rising from the horses’ coats. Gideon saw her shake uncontrollably, and he took the blanket from her hands and led her away from the open door.

  “Hey, you’re soaked to the skin. I’ll finish up the horses. You’ve got to get out of those clothes.”

  Rennie waited for the latest bout of shivers to pass before she answered him. Then she said, “But what will I wear?” She ground her teeth to stop them from chattering. “I can’t walk around here naked.”

  He grabbed up the other saddle blanket, which was still fairly dry, having been mostly shielded from the rain by the saddle. He shook it out and thrust it at her.

  “Here, put this on. It might not be the sweetest-smelling thing you’ve ever worn, but it’ll be better than those wet clothes you’re wearing now.”

  He turned to give her some privacy, and kept his back to her while he finished wiping down his horse. But he could hear the little sounds she made as she undressed, and his imagination filled in the rest. Despite the cold, despite his rain-drenched clothes, Gideon’s body filled with heat at the thought of Rennie’s soft curves bare.

  He tried to shake off the thought by telling himself this was hardly the time to be thinking about sex. His body didn’t want to listen.

  Impatiently he shrugged off his own thoroughly wet jacket and hung it on a rusty nail. His shirt was damp, but not too bad, so he left it on. His jeans were the worst, but he figured if he couldn’t keep his heated thoughts off Rennie his jeans would be dry in no time.

  He concentrated again on the buckskin, rubbing with forceful strokes that pleased the horse but only relieved a fraction of the tension in Gideon’s body. When he was done, he untied the horse and led him into one of the stalls that was still in fairly decent condition, then did the same with the mare.

  When he came out, his eyes were drawn to the corner where Rennie stood. Her jacket, jeans and sweater had been wrung out and slung over a stall railing. The straw hat he’d bought her that morning hung from a nail. And her boots stood neatly underneath them all. But none of those things held his attention.

  The saddle blanket was wrapped around her body sarong-style, leaving her shoulders and legs uncovered. Even in the gloomy interior of the stable her skin gleamed softly, inviting him to imagine what lay hidden from view. In his mind’s eye he saw the blanket fall away, inch by inch, teasing him as it slowly revealed the woman he wanted so badly.

  From there it didn’t take much to picture those slender legs wrapped around his hips. His eyes followed her legs upward as his hands wanted to do, past the blanket’s hem, past the concealing folds and bare shoulders, up to Rennie’s face.

  She’d done her best to comb out the wet tangle of her hair, but there was nothing she could do to tame the curls that clustered damply, sexily, around her face, curls that begged for a man’s hand to stroke them. And there’d be similar curls elsewhere for a man to play with.

  Damn! He’d done it again. He’d let his imagination run wild, and now he had no one to blame but himself that his entire body throbbed for the release that only sex could give.

  Sex with Rennie. Lusty and quick or deep and slow; at this moment he didn’t give a damn which way as long as it happened now. How easy it would be to take those few steps that separated them and pull her body against his. How easy to slide his hands between the blanket’s folds to the woman underneath. And how temptingly easy it would be to lift her, part her legs, and let her heat cradle him intimately. Very intimately.

  His promise to her chafed his conscience just as his damp clothes chafed his body. God, he wished he’d never made her that promise, never more so than at this moment when his body desperately craved contact with hers.

  But a promise had been made. And Gideon kept his promises.

  Rennie shivered slightly, more from the intensity of Gideon’s brooding gaze than from the cold. Her mouth went dry. The look of naked longing in his eyes seared her, igniting a fire that coursed into her veins, warming every part of her.

  She was tempted. Oh, she was tempted! She wanted to brazenly drop the coarse blanket and stand naked before him. She wanted to cross the short distance that separated them and slide her arms around his neck. And more than anything in the world she wanted him to lift her in his powerful arms and crush her against him with the strength of his passion.

  But before she could take that step toward him, he turned away. He picked up the sopping wet bedroll from where she’d left it by the doorway and began wringing it out.

  “Gideon, I...”

  He swung around and she took one step forward, her h
and outstretched, when reality crashed in. Pain stabbed without warning, and she stumbled. Gideon dropped the bedroll and caught her.

  “It’s your hip, isn’t it,” he rumbled, correctly identifying the problem.

  He lifted her, not in a passionate embrace, but in a gentle one, and Rennie whimpered, as much from frustration as from pain. He didn’t understand and he shifted her carefully, thinking he’d hurt her. Which he had, but not in the way he thought.

  He braced his back against a pole and slid down into a sitting position, Rennie cradled gently in his arms. He settled her next to him, her head against his shoulder. Then he removed his hat and sighed.

  When he slid his hand underneath the blanket, Rennie gasped, but his touch was meant to soothe, not to arouse. His hand sought her hip, rubbing it firmly, and the warmth and the pressure eased the ache there. The ache elsewhere went unappeased.

  “Is that better?”

  She nodded, and Gideon removed his hand, much to her disappointment. But then she realized maybe it was for the best that things had turned out this way. After all, these were hardly the proper surroundings in which to make love with Gideon for the first time. When she had imagined the two of them together, she hadn’t pictured them rolling around on the dirt floor of a stable, or herself wearing nothing but an old blanket that distinctly smelled of horses. It wasn’t exactly a romantic setting.

  But she’d wanted him so much in those few seconds that nothing else had mattered—not their surroundings, not the past, not even her physical scars from the accident, about which she was still self-conscious. She had wanted him to make love to her. She still did.

  Outside, the rain continued to pour down, pounding on the livery stable’s roof and hissing into the ground. In his stall, the buckskin gelding snorted his displeasure.