Romancing the Wilderness: American Wilderness Series Boxed Bundle Books 1 - 3

by Dorothy Wiley

  He silently thanked God that she was all right, and quickly forgot his irritation with her.

  “Do you realize what a beauty you are?” he asked, sitting down beside her.

  He thought his own body must look unpleasant to her, despite his lean muscular build, because he bore a multitude of ugly battle scars.

  “You’re the fine-looking one. Soon after we arrived in Boonesborough, I said you reminded me of a knight clad in buckskins. I thought you looked powerful, proud, and fiercely handsome. Now you’re my handsome knight.”

  “How you can find anything pleasing to your eye, my lady, among all my scars I’ll never know.” He lowered himself next to her and rested his head on one elbow.

  She reached up to gently rub her fingers across a scar on his left shoulder.

  The gentleness of her tender touch filled him with a sense of calm peace. He reveled in the feeling—absent in his life for so long.

  She found another scar across his abdomen. “They’re beautiful in a way—a silent testimony to your courage.”

  He exhaled a long sigh. “Sometimes I’m not courageous at all. Do you know how much it frightened me when he shot you? I thought you were dying. When your blood was flowing out into my hands, it felt like my blood was flowing out too. That’s when I knew I loved you.”

  Her eyes, suddenly troubled, caught and held his. “But just before I was shot, you turned and took a step away from me.”

  “My mind and heart were still at war with each other. A small, but very vocal, part of my mind kept denying that you really could love me. Another part feared that I would lose you too. But my heart and body wanted you more than anything.” He brushed the tip of his finger slowly across her lips. “Oh, Catherine, how close I came to losing you.”

  “But you didn’t lose me. I’m here…and so are you,” she said gently. “And I will love you, Sam, forever, and ever, and ever.”

  A golden wave seemed to spread over them like a warm mantle, wrapping them together into one soul.

  “And I will love you endlessly and always.” He cradled her head in his hand and kissed her forehead gently and then her mouth. The pleasure of kissing her was pure and powerful. He feathered his lips slowly across her face. Closing his eyes, he savored the soft freshness of her skin. His lips seemed to move on their own, down her neck before kissing the cold skin along the middle of her voluptuous chest.

  Slowly, he relished the feel and taste of her wet body until she could barely stay still in his arms. But he would make her wait a few moments longer. She tasted sweet on his lips, like a delectable cake.

  Their water-cooled bodies only seemed to magnify the warmth of their passion. Soon, the morning sun felt like high noon on his wet back. The warmth of the rock beneath them sent even more heat down his legs. He felt a firestorm building within him as he stoked the flames of her desire.

  It was time to put out the fire raging within them, but seeing him so alive made it almost too extraordinary to quench. His fervor nearly made sparks fly from his muscled body.

  Catherine knew he would keep kissing her, embracing her, fondling her, until he could no longer hold himself back.

  He kissed the inside of one of her palms, before nibbling on the sensitive skin inside her elbow. Then his tongue traced a trail across her shoulder and down to the pinnacle of her moist breast. She was nearly exploding with desire.

  She arched into the curve of his body. He pulled her against him with tantalizing possessiveness.

  His strong hands caressed the planes of her back and hips. Then he lightened his touch to just his fingertips. She quivered under his gentle stroking, every inch of her skin tingling with pleasure from his whispered touch. She closed her eyes and let her head fall back, reveling in the sensation of his hands wandering lovingly over her.

  The scent of his fresh, water-washed body made her senses swirl. Like the rush of the nearby waterfall pounding into the river, a spurt of hungry desire for him cascaded through her.

  She raised up and pushed him to his back before she climbed on top of him, straddling his hips. It was an instinctive act of possession. She was all his and he was all hers.

  Using her fingers, she slowly massaged his shoulders. She observed him through lowered lashes as her fingers slid over his smooth skin. He was so handsome, so magnificent, so hers! She smiled, joyful at the thought, and used her thumbs to knead the muscles of his broad chest. Then with two fingertips, she drew a perfect heart around his heart.

  He reached up and did the same to her.

  He loved her!

  In that moment, she felt a sunrise in her heart.

  He opened his eyes to gaze at this strikingly beautiful woman who was his wife. He still could not believe his great fortune. It had nothing to do with her fortune. She was his treasure.

  Her long dark hair fell in wet strands across her breasts, nearly reaching to her trim waist. Sam reached up and pushed her hair behind her back, revealing the exquisite mounds completely. She was a glowing image of beauty, desire, and love. The sheer wonder of the sight of her and the growing intensity of the passion within him filled his heart with awe.

  Every time he joined with her, she filled empty places in his soul and made more old pains ebb away—banished forever—to be replaced with new memories. And these memories would linger long after their moments of heated passion, surrounding them in the comforting certainty of their love.

  “I love you beyond any measure,” she whispered as her head fell down and she buried her face against his neck.

  Then, as he held her close, he said, “And I love you my treasure. To paraphrase that fine Scots poet, Robert Burns, ‘Of all the directions the wind can blow, I dearly like the west, for there the bonnie lassie lives, the lassie I love best.’”

  “Aye!” she said.

  As their souls collided, he decided the wilderness really was the land of tomorrow.

  * * *

  THE END

  To my dear sister Maria.

  Prologue

  Just east of the Shenandoah Mountains,

  northern Virginia, Summer 1797

  The western horizon claimed the warmth and light of the sun, leaving Kelly to cry sitting in the darkness, her heart and body aching.

  After tapping lightly on the door, William carried a bucket full of water inside and sat it on her table. Grey tendrils of steam curled up off the top of the bucket. He had heated the water. Then she watched as he built a fine fire in her small stone hearth.

  She gazed at him for a long moment, then closed her eyes tightly, squeezing out even more tears. She thought her tears might fill another bucket. But she couldn’t stop weeping, not yet.

  He sighed heavily. “Goodnight,” he said simply as he turned to leave. “Stephen and I will sleep outdoors. We’re used to it anyway. Don’t worry, you’ll be safe. I swear.”

  Her bruised arms and a tattered blanket wrapped tightly against her and still shaking, she could only nod to thank him.

  William responded with a warm smile that lit up his kind face.

  After he left, she stared at the wooden plank door to her cabin, wanting to remember the warmth in that smile, the only bright spot in the darkest day of her life. He was already her hero. Not just because he and his younger brother Stephen saved her, but his kindness was something she hadn’t felt since her mother died. Someone had actually done something for her. For four years, no one had done even the simplest thing for her.

  Kelly needed to wash herself thoroughly in the nearby creek. But for now, the bucket of cistern water William had thoughtfully heated would just have to do. She made herself stand and walk to the door, slid the bolt into place, and removed her ripped and bloodied clothing. She picked up a square of cloth and dipped it into the water. Why was the rag shaking? Rubbing some soap across the cloth, she stared at the terrible rope burns on her wrists and winced when the warm water touched her raw skin. Her ankles burned too.

  But her torn raw skin did not hurt nearly as muc
h as the terror branded on her heart.

  Kelly closed her eyes to the images—like a mirror in her mind—a special mirror capable of replaying the horror in vivid detail over and over. Seeing it all again made her feel depraved and her body soiled with a filth she would never be able to wash away. She squeezed her eyes as tight as she possibly could but it did not break the mirror. She pounded her fists against her forehead, hating the images.

  Feeling vulnerable all over again, she tried to swallow the hot emotions tightening her throat. She wanted to scream, scream, scream, but instead choked back a cry.

  Unable to continue standing, she sat down. Shame and anger entwined inside her and wove a heavy dark shroud around her heart. The weight of it threatened to stop her heart completely and she lowered her head to the tabletop.

  Wanting to regain control of herself, Kelly took slow deep breaths until she felt calm enough to at least raise her head. She forced herself to think about something else. She would think about William and his brother. Who were they? Why did they come here, to this remote place? William had said something about being a sheriff in pursuit of murderers.

  Oh God, those men could have murdered her! But they hadn’t. She was alive. And she would go on living despite everything they did to her. Scrubbing her tears from her face with the back of her hand, she stood and made herself finish washing. Maybe concentrating on that would stop the wave of apprehension beginning to sweep through her, threatening to overcome her mind.

  She needed to make sense of it all. Ben Jack and Grover were dead. She clung to that thought for a moment. William and Stephen had killed her rapists. Thank you, God, for sending help. Just a few minutes ago, they had dragged the two bodies outside. Then William explained that he was in pursuit of the two vile men, and tracked them here because they had killed their friend’s husband. They heard Kelly’s screams, burst in, and shot Ben Jack and Grover, saving her.

  But not from rape. They were too late to save her from that.

  Finished with washing and dressing, she turned to the pile of her ripped clothing. She owned only two well-worn gowns, but she never wanted to see the clothes those men had touched ever again even if it meant wearing the same dress for the rest of her life. She flung the garments into the hearth fire and then pitched the washrag in too. As the wet cloth hit the flames, it sizzled and steamed, matching her growing anger.

  She watched her dress burn, wishing the fire could burn her humiliation away too. Through her tears of shame, the fire’s flames sparkled and wavered, blurry and softened. When the tears slid down her bruised cheeks, Kelly turned away from the fire and grabbed her Bible, clutching it to her breast as if it were hugging her, not the other way around. Kelly sat and rocked herself until she could finally open the book.

  As she did every night, she read by the warm light of the hearth fire. Her mother’s dying wish had been that Kelly read her Bible every day and she had faithfully complied. There were only two other books in the cabin anyway. She’d read them so many times the covers fell off, and the pages came loose. Since her mother died, the three precious books and her animals were the only company she had. She often battled a fierce adversary—lonesomeness. Her trapper father left her alone here for weeks at a time. The isolation and solitude sometimes left her feeling empty, like a bowl with nothing in it.

  When he was home, her Papa spent most days drunk, and occasionally that made him a little violent. She understood the reason for his fury, but she couldn’t understand why he took it out on her. Or why he found showing her affection so difficult. Weren’t fathers supposed to love their daughters?

  Forcing her thoughts back to her reading, she finished the chapter and put the Bible on the small overturned crate next to her bed. The good book had been right there when Ben Jack attacked her, but the sight of it didn’t stop him.

  Maybe if she had never let them inside the cabin it wouldn’t have happened. Her home seemed changed now. She glanced around the room, remembering happier times when both her parents loved her and each other. That was before all the bad came—her mother’s sudden death, her father’s drunkenness, and now this.

  When Ben Jack and Grover showed up yesterday, she’d been feeling especially lonesome. The big empty spot inside of her had spread and loneliness threatened to consume her entirely. Without a friend in the world, she relished the idea of company, even though her common sense told her to beware of the two strangers. She desperately wanted to just talk to somebody. And they had seemed like such nice young men. Never had she been more wrong.

  Remembering the deception of the two wolves in sheep’s clothing, her lips twisted in anger and her temper flared. She needed to go to bed before the few shreds of control she’d managed to muster disappeared completely. She said her nightly prayer, quoting a verse from Psalms 103 aloud. “The Lord executeth righteousness and judgment for all that are oppressed.” God had seen justice done. She should bury her anger. If only she could.

  “Thank you Father for delivering me from evil, for sending two good men to replace two evil ones. Forgive me of my sins as I forgive those who have sinned against me,” Kelly prayed, struggling not to cry, and to believe what she was saying.

  Can I ever forgive? As she asked herself the question, hatred again welled up inside her like an angry bristling animal. She doubted she would ever be able to feel forgiveness. For now, anger claimed her and it felt right. Better than tears. She wanted to hate those men and her lips pressed together as she thought about how she would punish them if they were still alive.

  She heard a soft knock on the door. Not up to talking to them, she ignored it. She would let them think she was asleep.

  “Kelly,” she heard William call in a gentle voice. “We just wanted to be sure you were okay. If you need us, or anything at all, we’ll be right out here. Try to sleep. Tomorrow will be a better day. I promise.”

  “How can he promise such a thing?” Kelly whispered to herself. She crawled into bed and clutching the ragged old quilt tightly in both hands, drew it up to her chin. Laying on her side, she stared into the dim light of the waning hearth fire. She again pictured the same vivid images—visions of a nightmare. But you can wake from a nightmare. This time, there would be no waking up to find that everything was the same. Now, everything had changed. Forever.

  She wanted to dream now—to escape the oppressive memory if only for a little while. But sleep would not come. Her wrists throbbed and the rawness between her legs remained an incessant stinging reminder. And her mind filled with how it felt when he thrust himself into her, tearing her like a rag.

  It felt like what it was—a savage violation—of not just her body, but her soul as well.

  She sank into pure misery. She could hear the muffled voices of the two brothers talking outdoors, but she still felt horribly alone. Abandoned. Robbed. Cheated. Damaged.

  But most of all, shamed.

  She gazed out the small window beside her bed, hoping she could still see the pink and red wildflowers that grew beyond her cabin in peaceful clusters among the rolling verdant hills. But they lay hidden in the darkness waiting for a new day.

  “He promised tomorrow would be a better day,” she whispered to her beloved hills.

  And somehow, she knew he spoke the truth.

  Chapter 1

  Boonesborough, Kentucky, Fall 1797

  William Wyllie scanned the fort’s largest room once more hoping to set his eyes on Kelly. He was certain she would come. The crowded noisy room, constructed of sturdy pine logs, contained Boonesborough’s leading citizens, including its Mayor, director of the land office, members of the militia, Judge Webb, and Kentucky’s most famous son Daniel Boone. A number of people stood gathered around Colonel Boone, including William’s oldest brother Sam and their adopted Scots brother Bear—by far the largest man in the room.

  William’s eyes halted, but his heartbeat quickened when he finally spotted Kelly. She stood frozen in the doorway for a moment, the bright sun behind her outlinin
g her shapely silhouette. Radiant and smiling tentatively, she walked in with stiff dignity, escorted by her employer. William’s eyes weren’t the only ones taking notice. He saw many of the men in attendance glance toward Kelly—her beauty turning heads all over the room.

  The temptation to race over to her before some other man did flew into his head, but he held himself back. He had forced himself to take this one slowly and he would continue to do so. At least until he knew for a certainty that Kelly was prepared for a man’s attentions.

  Admittedly, he often behaved impulsively—and sometimes he even acted in a ready, fire, aim manner. And he never did anything slowly, especially when it came to relationships with females. He often found himself enamored with a woman on the spur-of-the-moment and then, just as spontaneously, he would become besotted with another. With few exceptions, he found most women charming and many downright bewitching.

  But none of them compared favorably to Kelly. This was far too important to rush. He needed to treat Kelly carefully. He had to give her ample time to heal and become the woman he knew she was. In the meantime, he would be certain no one else hurt her ever again.

  For weeks, he had left her alone, giving her mind time to mend itself. But with each day that passed, he found that simple task more burdensome. From time to time, he would see her in town for a moment or two and have a chance to exchange a few words. He had savored every minute with her, but those moments were rare and they left him wanting more.

  What he wanted to do was wrap his arms around her. To protect her forever. To cover those soft pink lips with his—to cherish her in a way he had never felt toward any woman ever before. He wanted to treat her gently, to show her that what happens between a man and a woman should be soft and tender. And passionate.