She looked tired, but far happier than she’d been that morning. “I’ve never been to a circus,” she said. “I’m glad my first time was with you.”
He wished her first time making love could have been with him, but it was too late for that, so he would gladly be her last. All day he’d kept his conversation mild for the children, not al-lowing his gaze to rove her body, but he remembered how she looked in the bath that morning, dripping wet and beautiful, the more so for her tears.
Cora skidded to a stop in the open doorway. “Thank you, Sheriff Grayson, for taking me on a train ride and to the circus and for getting me a pork sandwich and ice cream and peanut brittle, and for the ride on the elephant and . . .” She scrunched her face and thought for a moment. “And for letting me sit on your shoulders to see the clowns ride the ponies.”
He laughed because she was such a little blabbermouth, and because her enthusiasm and the awe in her eyes was so real.
“You’re welcome, princess. It was the best day I’ve had in a long time,” he said, wanting more days like this, more time with Faith and her family, and hopefully more time alone with Faith in her bathhouse.
Iris stood behind Cora in the doorway. “I just made a pot of vegetable soup, Sheriff. It won’t be your best meal, but you’re welcome to stay for supper.”
A look of horror replaced the smile on Faith’s face. “I’m not eating,” she said. “I mean, I thought I would treat your shoulder now.”
Before Duke could answer, Iris pushed the door wide open. “This man took you to the circus today. The least we can do is feed him his supper—even if it isn’t much.”
Duke didn’t want to make their meal any lighter by eating part of it, but Faith, who looked ill, stepped inside and left the door open for him. He stepped in behind her and understood immediately why Faith didn’t want him here. The room was barren, and the only piece of furniture was the table.
Iris waved him toward makeshift benches, unashamed. “Pull up a barrel, Sheriff, and make yourself at home.”
Faith gasped, her embarrassment so acute it moved him to pity, not because of the condition of her home, but because her poverty shamed her so deeply.
“You can sit with me on my board, Sheriff Grayson,” Cora said without a drop of concern as she galloped to the table.
Duke lifted the little girl onto the wide board laid across two flour barrels. “Did you design this bench?” he asked, wanting to ease Faith’s discomfort.
“Adam made it,” Cora said.
Duke nodded to Aster, Tansy, and Dahlia as he swung his legs over the plank and sat down. He bounced on the board. “Good choice of wood, son. Nice and solid. I chose pine slabs from my dad’s sawmill for my first tree stand.”
“What’s that?” the boy asked, looking confused as he sat on a barrel at the end of the table.
“It’s a little platform you put in a tree. You nail a few boards together and secure it in a tree so you can sit up there and watch for deer.” Duke accepted a bowl of soup from Iris. “Thank you,” he said, purposely keeping his eyes off Faith while placing the full bowl in front of him. “I was your age when I made my first tree stand,” he said to Adam. “It was dead winter, and I was sitting in that stand when I heard this cracking noise. I couldn’t figure out what it was. Just then I spotted a brown bear twenty feet away walking right toward me. I thought he was snapping twigs beneath the snow.”
Adam’s spoon paused halfway to his mouth. “Did you shoot him?”
Duke shook his head and dipped his spoon into his soup. “That cracking noise was coming from the boards I was sitting on. They snapped in half and I fell. When I hit the ground, my rifle discharged and blew the stand right out of the tree.”
Adam laughed, and Duke congratulated himself for the small achievement. Faith’s aunts were smiling, but he still wouldn’t allow himself to look at Faith. He took a bite of his soup. It was tasty but meatless, and he was certain the lack of meat wasn’t from choice. Maybe this is why Iris had encouraged him to stay, so he could see how poorly they were living. Maybe he wasn’t the only one making judgments. Iris didn’t strike him as a woman who would seek sympathy or charity. Maybe she just wanted to see if he was the kind of man who could love a woman who had nothing but herself to offer.
“Did the bear get you?” Cora asked, her eyes bugging with fear.
“Naw,” he said. “The gunshot scared him away. But I remembered to use a good, thick piece of hardwood after that.”
“I saw a bear behind our house once,” Adam said. “He was trying to crawl in our window. When I asked what he was doing, he said he was looking for Cora.”
Duke felt his mouth quirk, but Adam took a spoonful of soup with a straight face.
“That’s me.” Cora tapped her spoon against her chest. “He was coming to see me.”
Adam backhanded his mouth, and Duke suspected the boy was wiping away a smile. “The bear said he wanted to take you for a ride, Cora, but I told him you would only ride ponies.”
Cora looked at Duke, her eyes wide and serious. “Would the bear bite me if I rode him?”
Thankfully he’d played these games with Rebecca and his nephews, so he answered with care. “A real bear probably would, so I wouldn’t be too friendly with one. But a storybook bear might give you a ride on his back.” He shrugged. “It’s probably safer to ride a pony”
“I’m going to ride my pony to church someday,” she said, her voice so wistful he wanted to go right to Radford and Evelyn’s livery and buy her that pony she longed for.
He looked at Faith and saw that same desire reflected in her face. She lowered her lashes and dipped her spoon in her soup bowl.
“Is a bear bigger than a pony?” Cora asked.
“I think it weighs more,” Adam answered, and the meal progressed with Cora asking questions and making them forget they were eating meatless soup and sitting on barrels and planks.
When they finished, Faith kissed the top of Cora’s head. “Sheriff Grayson and I are going to the greenhouse so I can put some balm on his shoulder. Help clear the table, and maybe Aunt Dahlia will read with you until I come back.”
Duke followed Faith outside, but stopped her near the door. “You don’t have to bother with my shoulder tonight. You must be exhausted.”
“It’s been a week since I’ve stretched your muscles.”
“I’ve been doing it myself.”
“Are you getting the same amount of stretch?”
“No.”
“Then we’d better do it tonight before we lose the progress we made last week.”
Even though he’d been stretching each night until he howled from pain, he could feel the muscles tightening up again. Faith’s treatment might have hurt like hell, but he’d started seeing some results before he’d left for Mayville.
They crossed the yard and entered the humid world of her greenhouse. When she reached for a stack of linens on the shelf, he caught her hand. “I’ll skip the bath tonight.” He couldn’t strip and soak in that tub without craving her in there with him, naked and willing to do all the things that had circled his mind all week.
“Are you sure?”
“Absolutely,” he said, then followed her back to the bathhouse. He sat on the table and removed his shirt, but his eyes shifted to the bath and he thought of Faith standing in the tub, dripping wet with her dark-nippled breasts peeping through the wet loose strands of her waist-length hair, and those deep gulping sobs wracking her body. He wanted to take her in his arms and protect her from everything that had ever hurt her.
She stood behind him, slathering an herb-scented oil over his shoulders and back. “I can do this better when you’re lying down.”
They could do a lot of things better if they were both lying down, but he clamped his mouth shut and stretched out on the towels she’d spread on the table. They were both silent, listening to the condensation drip off the water faucet while she massaged the muscles in his neck and shoulders. Sighing, he forced
his thoughts from all the sensual ways he wanted to hold and kiss her, and remembered Adam’s scuffle with the Archer children last week. He debated telling her. She had more worries than she deserved, but she was Adam’s guardian and should be aware of a situation that could grow worse if not dealt with.
“Has Adam mentioned having any trouble at school?” he asked, hoping the boy had told her.
Her fingers clamped on his shoulders. “No. Why?”
“It seems he got in a scuffle with a couple other children last week.” Duke pushed to his elbows and turned so he could see her. “One of those men I was talking with after church this morning was Ike MacEnroy, Adam’s teacher. MacEnroy broke up a commotion in the school yard last Monday, and said Adam was disrespectful to him.”
“He’s never been disrespectful to anyone, including me.”
“I’m repeating what MacEnroy told me,” he said. “He didn’t seem that upset over the incident, and I suspect the man admires Adam’s intelligence. Archer was the one demanding that I punish Adam for attacking his children, Melissa and Nicholas.” Faith gasped. “Adam would never attack a person unless they were threatening to harm one of us.”
Duke couldn’t picture Adam attacking anyone either. Especially if unprovoked. Those scratch marks on Nicholas’s neck didn’t come from Adam. “Archer’s story is one-sided. Since Adam hasn’t told you about this, don’t mention it to him just yet. I want to confirm the story with my niece Rebecca, who was also involved, then I’ll talk to Adam.”
Faith leaned her hip against the table. “So this is why Adam avoided you today” She buried her face in her hands. “What next? I can’t handle another problem.”
She looked exhausted. And scared. Duke pushed to his hip and swung his legs off the table so he was sitting. He put his arms around her and made her sit beside him. “Let me handle it with Adam. I’ll be fair. You know that.”
She sighed and lowered her forehead to his shoulder. “I could get used to having you around.”
And he could get used to holding her in his arms. He liked the feel of her body against him, the warmth of her breath on his bare chest. He stroked his fingertips over her back, and she melted against him. He knew how good it felt to have the tension rubbed from his sore body, and he wanted to give her that pleasure. With light pressure, he kneaded the muscles in her neck and down between her shoulder blades.
“Mmm . . . that’s nice,” she said, relaxing her breasts into his chest, and sending a firebolt of lust burning through him. He could make her feel so much better if she would get in that tub with him, if she would let him make love to her.
He wanted to keep her in his arms, but she deserved better than his selfish fondling. “Lie down and let me rub your back.”
“I’m supposed to be doing that for you right now,” she said, her voice so slow and dreamy it kicked his lust up another notch.
“But you need it more than I do.” He kissed her forehead. “Lie down.”
“I won’t get back up if I do.”
It was easy to angle his shoulders and pull her down onto the table with him. He lay on his back on the cool wood, with her lying on her side, half on his stomach, staring down at him with shock in her eyes. She braced her hand on his bare chest.
“What are you doing?”
“Making it easier to rub your back,” he answered, demonstrating by rubbing his palm down her spine.
She lay against him, her knee braced on his thigh, her breasts pressed to his chest, her mouth inches from his, and her eyes full of suspicion. “I think you’re taking liberties with me because I let you kiss me.”
Her accusation stung. “I think someone in your past made you distrustful of men, and I’d like to beat the heck out of whoever did it. I won’t deny having a hundred thoughts about making love to you on this table and in that bathtub, but I won’t force you into anything, Faith. Not ever.”
She perched against his side, looking ready to bolt.
“You’re fully clothed, and so am I in every way that counts.”
“We’re not married.”
“We’re courting.”
“And unchaperoned.”
“A widow doesn’t need a chaperone,” he countered.
“Because she knows where this situation can take her.”
“It won’t.” He held her chin and forced her to look in his eyes. “You can trust me.”
“Then let me up.”
He sighed and lifted her off him, bringing them both back to a sitting position.
He expected her to move away, but she stood and faced him. “I trust you,” she said softly. “But I’m afraid we’ll get carried away again and I can’t . . . It’s improper for us to . . . I like your kisses too much.”
Her confession warmed him. He slipped his arms around her waist and pulled her between his knees. “It was my fault that we got carried away. I won’t let it happen again.”
Down went her lashes, and she leaned her forehead against his chest. “Duke?” He liked the sleepy softness of her voice. “I changed my mind about the sword swallower being the best show.”
He’d forgotten the circus.
“The clowns were the best.”
He stroked her back, pleased that the clowns had made Cora and Adam laugh, but even more pleased that they’d made Faith forget her troubles for a while.
“Thank you for taking us to the circus today,” she said.
“I should be thanking you,” he replied sincerely. “This is the best day I’ve had in . . . I don’t know how long.”
She lifted her head. “Truly?”
“Truly,” he said, liking the way her gaze roved across his face and lowered to his mouth. Their eyes met, and his heart pounded while he waited for her to decide on their next step. Would she kiss him or torture him by starting his shoulder treatment?
Her lips parted and she lifted her mouth to his. The kiss was soft, tentative, lingering, and it drove him wild and made him want to take it slower and deeper until they were naked and making love. But he clenched his fists and ordered his body to settle down, letting her decide where the kiss would lead, knowing it wouldn’t lead far enough, but craving every second of what she was giving him.
o0o
Faith thought her heart would explode from the pressure building inside it. She had never initiated a kiss before, but oh! She liked kissing this man.
Three men at the brothel had stolen kisses, once when she was thirteen, twice when she was eighteen; and Jarvis had romanced her into accepting his kisses, then misled and pressured her into forfeiting her virginity. Never had she felt free to pursue a man at her own exploratory pace. She liked being able to take her time now, to feel the texture of Duke’s lips with the tip of her tongue, to hold her mouth an inch from his and feel his warm breath caress her lips.
His hard chest muscles bunched beneath her palms, both exciting and scaring her. He could easily take what he wanted, and his shaky breathing and dark, intense eyes said he wanted more than her kiss. But she drank in the masculine beauty of his face, feeling a deep urge to give him more.
He nibbled at her lips, drawing her mouth to his, softly at first, then deeper and slower, sweeping his tongue into her mouth in a seductive rhythm that melted her against his hard body. The birds in her stomach soared to the sky and dove to the sea in a mad, repetitive rush that stole her breath. Her nipples hardened and she longed for the caress of his hands in all the places he was making her ache. But she forced herself to break the kiss. Widow or not, he would expect her to retain some shred of respectability, which she must do at all cost.
He closed his eyes and rested his forehead against hers, his arms encircling but not imprisoning her. “Thank you,” he whispered.
“For the kiss?” she asked, as shaken and breathless as he appeared.
“For stopping before you drove me insane.” He opened his eyes and winked at her.
Nothing could have pleased her more than that teasing wink. To know he could enjoy kiss
ing her like this, and could stop without growing petulant or angry as Jarvis had, told her everything she needed to know about Duke Grayson. He was a man worthy of a better woman than a prostitute’s daughter, but Faith was going to claim him for herself. And she would do whatever it took to make sure he never regretted it.
Chapter 16
Faith was in the house folding clothes with Iris when someone knocked on the door.
“If that’s Adam or Cora clowning with us, I’ll hang them on the clothesline,” Iris said, heading to the door.
Faith smiled and shook her head. If it was one of the children, Iris would wrangle a kiss or a hug from them before sending them back to play. For all her starch, Iris was a softie.
When she opened the door, a man nearly as tall and wide-shouldered as Duke stood on the doorstep, looking like an overgrown farm boy in denim jeans and a blue cambric shirt. He wasn’t catch-your-breath handsome like Duke or his brothers, but his boyish good looks brought a spark to Iris’s eyes that put Faith on guard.
“Well, well, well.” Iris smiled and leaned against the door frame. “Are you lost, farm boy?”
His gaze swept down her body and back to her face in a slow, seductive appraisal that said he’d rather be inspecting Iris with his big hands. Faith and Iris were used to being ogled, and at the brothel they knew exactly why the oglers came knocking. But this handsome, overgrown farm boy wasn’t looking to buy anything; he was here to sell. To Iris.
He braced his muscled forearm against the door frame and gave her a wolfish smile. “I’ve been waiting all my life to knock on a door and find you on the other side.” he said.
In all the years Faith had known Iris, no man had ever left her speechless. Until now. Until this stranger brazenly leaned in her door with that honest face and those blue eyes that declared Iris his even before asking her name.
He tilted his head. “Are you not telling me your name for any particular reason?”
Iris lifted her chin, but Faith could see her aunt was rattled. “I’m Iris Wilde— with an ‘e’.”
He chuckled, “Well, Iris Wilde with an ‘e’, are you married?”
Wendy Lindstrom Page 14