Loving Katherine

by Carolyn Davidson

  She pulled her legs back reflexively. “Let me loose,” she said quickly, rolling to escape his hands. They were warm against her, fingers squeezing gently, palms spread on the fullness just beneath the backs of her knees. It felt indecent, she decided abruptly, his handling of her limbs in such a fashion.

  “Thank you,” she mumbled, kneeling beside him, wishing against her better judgment for another flash of lightning to reveal the whereabouts of her blankets.

  As though nature answered her dilemma, the clouds were lit from within, shimmering outside the window for long seconds, illuminating the loft. Her movements were quick as she slid beneath the blanket, tugging it over her and settling down, cushioned by the hay.

  Roan watched her scamper about, his eyes becoming accustomed to the dark, able to make out her form, if not the details of what she did.

  “Did you take off those britches like I told you?” he asked, intent on removing his own.

  “No.” She settled lower in the blankets, her voice muffled.

  “You’ll be sorry tomorrow. You’ll be fightin’ those tight pants all night.”

  “They’re not tight,” she answered defiantly.

  “You haven’t been lookin’ at ‘em like I have, sugar.”

  She was silent, digesting the remark. Her small huff of disagreement was audible. “Well, you picked them out.”

  He smiled in the darkness, head cradled on the saddlebag, arms folded over his broad chest. “Yeah, I did,” he allowed, his eyes slanting to where she lay, close at hand.

  “How about my kiss, Katherine?” he said moments later, when she’d all but decided to ignore him and the flaring sky, closing her eyes tightly.

  “Is this going to be a nightly event?” she asked primly.

  “Yeah, I reckon it’s all I get. Unless you’re ready to share these blankets with me.” His voice held an undertone of sultry heat that reminded her of the rolling thunder overhead.

  She was quiet, her breath tightly held as she waited. It was less than a threat, his casual invitation, given so easily. Her mouth opened and she blew out the air she’d held within, aware he’d not moved in her direction. It was still her choice, and she made it with a degree of speed that tickled his funny bone.

  Rolling to her side, she lifted one hand to seek his face, meeting the blade of his nose and feeling her way to his mouth. Rising, she placed her lips firmly against his, allowing them to move just a little, as if she felt her way in the darkness. With an audible sound, she released the slight suction she’d brought about and lowered her hand to press against his chest. Then, using him as a lever, she scooted back to her hollowed-out place in the hay and settled down.

  She heard him, heard the rustling of his movements, and her eyes widened in the dark, aware of the closeness he’d created between them. Another flash of lightning above the clouds lit the loft, and she stifled a gasp as he rose over her on one elbow, his mouth just inches from her own.

  “That was a pretty poor kiss, if you ask me, Mrs. Devereaux. You’ll have to do better.”

  She shook her head. “I don’t know how to kiss any differently than that. It’s how I used to kiss my father.”

  His snort was expressive. “Well, I don’t plan on treatin’ you like my little girl. I’ll just have to repeat the last lesson we had on this subject.”

  He’s an arrogant… The words were still forming in her mind when he captured her mouth. Surely this isn’t proper, she thought as his tongue once more explored the seam of her lips, nudging and coaxing his way within. His hand was tugging her closer, fingers spread behind her shoulder, moving up to her neck, where he got a grip and held her in place. She felt the brand of his fingers, cupping the base of her skull, moving through her braid as he loosened the heavy plait.

  She drew in air through her nose, her lips so enclosed by his mouth she could only have taken in the breath he released to her. It was not enough. Even the shuddering of her chest agreed with her verdict, and she twisted to escape his hold. His mouth released hers and she gasped, eyes wide, shivers traveling from the nape of her neck down the length of her spine.

  “I can’t breathe!” she exclaimed against his cheek, turning away from the damp kisses he pressed against her.

  “Yeah, you take my breath away, too, Katherine,” he whispered with a trace of good humor.

  She inhaled sharply, filling her nostrils with his scent, aware of the fresh hay around them and beneath them. It mixed with the soap he’d washed with and the smell of leather that seemed a part of him. Above her, he sighed, the small chuckle that accompanied it telling her the lesson was over for tonight.

  And about time, she thought with relief. She was becoming used to his hands on her. The firm pressure of his mouth against hers was almost pleasant, she decided. But there was no point in encouraging him, she thought. If she should decide to go back to Illinois…

  Now where had that idea come from? she wondered. She’d about decided she couldn’t handle the farm alone anyway. Why would she want to go back? Even if Roan tired of the novelty of marriage and wearied of being denied his rights, she could always manage on the trail alone. She’d ridden a lot of miles with Charlie and Lawson over the years. She could do it again if she had to, and put down roots in a town somewhere. Maybe get a job in a store or livery stable, she thought darkly.

  As if the man she’d married would let her. Even now, he was dragging her against him, tucking her beneath his arm and surrounding her with his embrace.

  “What if you get tired of being married to me?” she asked suddenly.

  “Now what in tarnation brought that on? Do I act like I’m fed up with you already?”

  She considered the question. “I feel like you’re laughing at me a lot. Maybe I just amuse you, with my old maid ideas.”

  “Well, I’d say I’m a far cry from bein’ amused tonight, honey,” he said against the soft skin at her temple.

  Wisely, she decided to refrain from answering, unsure of his meaning, unwilling to question him lest he tell her. Folding her arms across her chest and drawing up her knees a bit, she fit herself against his side, unaware of the smile of satisfaction that twisted his mouth as he brushed it against her forehead.

  Her head was burrowed against him, the blanket pulled high over her exposed ear, and she missed the first crash of hooves against the stall door. Seconds later, the stud kicked again, and the sound brought Katherine bolt upright.

  “What was that?” she whispered, lifting her chin to listen intently.

  “Damn horse is bound and determined to get to your filly, Katherine,” Roan answered with a touch of aggravation. He pushed at the blanket covering him and reached for his pants, muttering beneath his breath all the while.

  “What are you going to do?” she asked, aware suddenly that the rain had stopped and the moon shone through the window above them. It outlined him nicely as he struggled into the legs of his pants, hopping on one foot as he shoved the other in place.

  “I’m probably gonna get my brains knocked out,” he grumbled, aware of the sound of wood splintering as the huge stallion plowed his way through the stall door. “If I can get to the lantern before he gets in the aisle, I’ll be all right,” he said, almost as if he were trying to persuade himself of the truth of his statement.

  “Be careful,” she whispered, already crawling to the hole in the floor, leaning over to peer below.

  It was pitch-dark down there, and she sighed.

  “I don’t think you ought to do this,” she told him, squinting through the hole. “You can’t see a blessed thing.”

  Reaching into his pocket, Roan came up with a box of matches. “I’ll light one of these when I get to the bottom of the ladder,” he told her, holding it before her face. He clamped the metal box between his teeth and backed to the ladder, making his way down the first steps as the barn door rolled open. Revealed in the opening was the figure of their host, clad in a nightshirt, boots pulled on with haste, hair standing out from his head
.

  “You folks all right up there?” he asked in a rusty cackle, sleep coating his voice.

  Roan halted where he was, halfway down the ladder. “I’m headin’ down to light the lantern,” he said quietly. “Where’s the stallion?”

  In answer, the horse sounded a shrill challenge, jumping the shattered stall door easily and skidding on the floor as he headed for the stall housing the dark filly.

  “Damn, too late,” the farmer said, disgust evident in his tone.

  “What do you mean, too late?” Katherine’s voice came in a loud whisper from the loft above. “He’s going after my filly!”

  Roan lifted himself back up to sit on the edge of the opening. “Nothing to be done, Katherine. It’d be worth your life to get between those two horses now.”

  She lay on her stomach and peered below, watching as the big stud approached, hooves clattering against the floor, tossing his head, his mane flying as he followed the scent that drew him. His approach was clarion in sound, his snorting and pawing echoing throughout the barn. He trumpeted again, nosing his way into the stall where the black object of his affections shivered, waiting. He nudged at her left hindquarter, his teeth exposed as he allowed her to feel the edges.

  She neighed sharply and shifted, shivering, hampered by the rope that tied her in place. Her scent was strong and the stud’s response was automatic. Rearing, he covered her with his considerable bulk, his body plunging as he sought the mating his instincts demanded.

  The mare screamed in the darkness, and beside him, Roan heard the sound of despair Katherine could not withhold. He reached for her, his arm unerring as he held her against him, rolling from the opening and holding her tightly to his chest.

  She buried her head, lifting her hands to cover her ears. But there was no more to hear. The filly was quiet, the stallion sliding from her with an awkward motion, shaking his head and snorting once more, the sound barely carrying to where Katherine sheltered.

  Below them, the farmer spoke in coaxing tones to his horse, catching him by the halter and leading him out the wide doors.

  “I’ll put him in the corral. You folks can rest easy,” he called back over his shoulder.

  “Should I go down to her?” Katherine’s voice was muffled against Roan’s shirt, her eyes squeezed shut as she pictured the scene that had just taken place So quickly had it happened, she was only now becoming truly aware of what she had seen.

  The rearing horse, his movements violent in the dim light from the barn door, the sound of his triumphant squeal as he…She groaned. Deep within she cringed, holding the memory. She’d seen horses breeding before. Not often, true, but she’d brought her father’s stallion to her mare only a few months ago.

  He’d been anxious but mature, a mild-mannered stud, if such a thing were to be believed. She almost smiled as she recalled the animal. He’d been uncut, true, but not difficult to handle, even allowing Katherine on his back. And he’d covered her mare with finesse. Eager, biting at her flank, nudging her in place.

  Katherine recalled the event, and her face flushed as she moved to free herself from Roan’s grasp. She’d experienced feelings on that day in early spring that were still unexplainable. Deep-seated longings had assailed her, emotions she denied as she led the stallion to his stall. She’d returned to release her mare from the ropes with which she’d tied her in place for the breeding, breathless with the needs that simmered within her body.

  She blinked, remembering, and shivered. “I’ll go down to her,” she said hoarsely, pushing against Roan.

  “No.” His voice was rasping, his grip on her almost painful. “No, you’re not going anywhere, Kate. She’s all right. You can tend her in the morning.” He pushed back from the opening in the floor, taking her with him, his hands hard against her flesh through the fabric of her cotton shirtwaist.

  Without a word, he struggled to his feet, hauling her with him, lifting her and carrying her the few steps to where their blankets lay in disarray. Bathed in the moonlight, he was a silhouette, dark shadows forming a man, his face barely discernible. He bent low, dropping to his knees, still clutching her against his chest, his mouth pressed to her forehead. Then, lowering her to the blankets, he followed her down, his weight heavy against her slender form.

  Katherine caught her breath, frowning as she struggled to move beneath him. “Roan! What—” His lips swallowed the words she would have spoken. She wiggled silently, her fists pushing against the weight of his chest, her mouth invaded by the sweep of his tongue.

  He lifted his head for a moment, his breathing labored and rasping; she flattened her hands, shoving desperately against his shoulders.

  “Roan, stop it!” she hissed angrily, her eyes wide in the dim light. The grim set of his jaw as he bent to her once more set off a small spark of fright and she renewed her struggle. He’s too strong, she thought, aware that her hands were plastered indecently to his chest, her fingers helpless against rock-hard muscle.

  His eyes closed and his mouth touched hers again. Stilling beneath him, she was breathless, conscious only of the hot kisses raining against her face, of his murmured words falling softly against her skin.

  “Let me love you, Katherine. Kiss me, honey,” he whispered, his mouth damp, his voice husky with entreaty.

  Deep within her, a restless urgency coiled, releasing a warmth that washed over her like a spring shower. She gasped, shuddering at the sensation, her heart beating audibly in her ears. Her lips firmed beneath his, returning the kiss he offered And at the silent urging of his tongue, she allowed him entrance, shivering as he searched out the secrets of her mouth. With a murmur of surrender she lifted her arms and twined them about him, clinging to his shoulders. It was a possession she’d never dreamed of, this urgent taking of her mouth, encompassing her with himself, covering her with the heat of his body, his hands swift, moving her beneath him.

  With agile haste, he worked at undoing the buttons of her shirt, impatient against the inches of tender flesh he exposed to his sight. She closed her eyes, aware of the gaze he bent upon her, flushing with apprehension as she listened to his wordless murmurs.

  It was too much, the knowledge that she was bared to his eyes, that her breasts were almost naked to his view. He only wants what Evan wanted, she thought with desperation. He’s going to squeeze me and hurt me.

  Drawing in a breath, sobbing in her throat, she twisted to escape his grasp. Her hands pushed against him, one at his shoulder, the other between their bodies, in a vain attempt to halt his moving fingers before he could bare her entirely.

  “Stop it, Roan,” she said, the words a harsh whisper. “Don’t look at me like that!”

  He sucked in a breath and lifted himself from her, gathering his scattered senses, attempting to harness the desires he’d been battling for days. His gaze moved over the vision beneath him, tender as he sensed her wariness, possessive as he allowed his eyes to rest on her mouth, damp from his kisses.

  He flexed his fingers, where his hand had buried itself in the fabric of her shirtwaist, exposing the plump flesh of her breasts.

  “You’re my wife, Katherine,” he growled, shifting his big body, groaning as he eased his hunger against the supple strength of her thigh. She gasped again and her breast pressed against the back of his hand, drawing his gaze like a magnet. In the moonlight, the pale flesh he’d brought to view rose and fell with her breathing, and his hand loosened from the shirt.

  “Let me touch you,” he whispered, his voice guttural with the restraint he imposed. His skin drew tautly across the harsh lines of his cheekbones, his jaw clamped, and his eyes narrowed as be watched her, as if awaiting her words of permission.

  Drawing a shuddering breath, she met his look, searching for a sign of the tenderness he’d brought to her with his touch…and finding only the harshness of a warrior in the depths of his dark gaze.

  She’d not denied him, Roan thought, not turned him away. She was silent, true, quiet beneath him, but acquiescent, and
a surge of joy sped through his veins as he bent to claim the flesh she’d relinquished to his touch. Brushing aside the edges of her garment, he flexed his fingers, carefully fitting them over her ribs, his thumbs almost meeting beneath her breasts. He cupped his hands, moving them upward, then together, until he allowed them to possess the tender underside of her breasts. She was full, firm, and his eyes closed for a moment as he savored the pure pleasure gripping him. He lifted one hand to her face, his fingers brushing back strands of dark hair, smoothing it from her forehead.

  “You said…” She bit at her lip, unsure of her ground, her mind focused on his big hand, touching her, possessing a forbidden part of her body. What had he said? That he wouldn’t…what? Wouldn’t touch her? Another breath shuddered between them as he inhaled again, matching her own trembling gasp.

  With eyes widening uncertainly, she watched him bend once more to brush against her mouth. Small kisses showered across her lips, his tension leashed as he tenderly bent her to his wooing. He gentled her as he would a fretting filly, soothing her with his hands, speaking soft words of praise.

  Her heart pounding unevenly, her breath catching in her throat, she responded, leaning into his body. Her mouth opened, seeking his, as he sucked gently at the flesh of her lips. The palm that seared her breast moved, carefully kneading, cherishing the plumpness with his big hand. Caressing his prize with callused fingers, he circled the sensitive flesh, cupping her, weighing the fullness within his grasp. Moving slowly, aching to possess the delicate treasure, he held his breath, finally daring to touch the swollen crest with one rough fingertip, brushing against the burgeoning flesh.

  Now he’ll hurt me, she thought in panic, aware only of the tiny scrap of sensitive flesh. Her gasp was loud, her breath a shuddering movement beneath his hand. “No…” she whispered, trembling, jerking away from him.

  His hand tightened, his rough skin scraping across her delicate, budding flesh, and he winced, sensing her panic.