by Sandy James
“Of the house?”
He nodded.
“It’s lovely. So much more than I ever would’ve dreamed. I feel blessed to be able to call it home now.”
His grin told her that her words had pleased him.
As he took a step closer, his eyes darkening in what she recognized as desire, she held out her hand to stop him. She couldn’t stop the inevitable—the consummation of the marriage—nor did she want to. The legality of their union could be questioned if there wasn’t a proper bedding. Although she dreaded it, she was resigned to the reality that she wanted this marriage to last and would do anything she could to ensure it did.
“I–I would like to bathe first,” Sara said.
Caleb watched her warily.
“We can...be together after,” she reminded him. “I wish to be clean and have a clean nightgown.”
He glanced at the carpetbag. “You ain’t got a nightgown?”
“I didn’t have time... I couldn’t...um...” Couldn’t what? Bring anything with her?
Even if she’d wanted to, all of her old clothes would be entirely unsuitable for polite folk—nothing but gaudy beads, tattered lace, and wilted feathers. The outfit she wore now was all she owned that was respectable, and she’d kept it carefully hidden until she could save enough money to run away. She’d folded the skirt, shirt, and coat into a tight bundle and laid it below loose floorboards in her room at the cathouse. Every time Kate strode across the room, the boards had squeaked, the sound terrifying Sara—yet it also emboldened her, reminding her of her plan to escape.
“I have some money,” she said. “If we could go back into town tomorrow, I could purchase some clothing.”
“Actually...” Caleb strode to a large trunk sitting below a cross with a carved image of Jesus hanging upon it. “I have all of my mother’s things.” He knelt and opened the trunk’s lid. “She was a little bit of thing,” he said over his shoulder. “Just like you.”
“I couldn’t possibly wear your mother’s clothes.” The thought was horrifying, probably because Sara wasn’t the type of woman his mother would’ve chosen for his bride. Heavens, she wasn’t the kind of woman any mother would want for her well-reared, God-fearing son.
Tears burned her eyes, but she refused to let a single one fall no matter how much guilt pressed down on her. She’d trapped this man—this sweet, kind, wonderful man. Her brother might have arranged this match, but she’d agreed. She’d stood before the preacher and spoken vows binding her to Caleb Young for the rest of her days.
What’s done is done. Let it be, Sara.
Caleb lifted a folded garment from the trunk and shut the lid. He strode over to her and held it out. “This nightgown should work for now. You can go through the rest of Ma’s things tomorrow to see what will work. Or we could go into town. I could buy you some new things, if you’d prefer.”
Sara hesitated, almost afraid to touch the snow white fabric as though her touch would taint it.
Stop it. You’re not a bad woman. You’re not!
The things she’d done had been necessary to survive. She was strong. She could put this behind her and make a new life, just as she’d planned. The difference was that the new life now included Caleb.
“Please, Sara. Take it. I’d be pleased that you’ll have somethin’ comfy to wear while you sleep.” He gave her the gown and led her to another door. Opening it, he nodded at the interior. “A real bath. Tub and all. Mighty proud of that.”
“As you should be.”
He followed her into the bathroom.
“I’m going to bathe,” she reminded him.
“And I’m going to help.” Taking the nightgown back, he set it aside.
Sara tried not to tremble as he slowly unbuttoned her shirt. One skill she’d learned early in her time at The Palace was to size up a man, to know whether he was going to be kind or cruel. Caleb would be gentle with her, and she had nothing to fear.
But she also had nothing to enjoy.
That’s not true, you silly girl.
There was much to enjoy about this new life. A beautiful home—much grander than she’d ever lived in. A chance to be with just one man—a clean, considerate man. And a chance to dig deep and perhaps one day regain her self-respect by being a good wife.
Surrendering to him, Sara slid her feet out of her shoes and stared up at her new husband.
Caleb opened her shirt, tugging it from the waistband of her skirt and then easing it off her shoulders. It fell to the floor, and he stared at her breasts as they swelled above her corset.
Her camisole was badly worn, having been mended more times than she could remember. The threadbare fabric did little to hide her nipples, which had hardened in the chill air. The silence between husband and wife stretched as he continued to stare and she feared he didn’t like what he saw.
She was too thin, something Crazy Kate had scolded her for again and again. Although there was plenty to eat—and drink—at The Palace, Sara had little appetite. Because she was so finicky about her food, she was lithe. Her breasts weren’t nearly as full as any of the other girls. A buxom bunch, most on the plump side with the rounded hips and cherubic shapes the men seemed to prefer.
She worried Caleb would think her less than womanly because of her small breasts and lean body.
He unfastened the buttons on the side of her skirt. With a low growl, he tugged it down. The material puddled at her feet.
She wasn’t wearing a petticoat, only a pair of worn pantalets with ragged lace edging.
“Damn.” His gaze swept her figure. “God, I’m a lucky man,” he said in a breathless whisper as he jerked at the corset’s fasteners, freeing her from the tight garment. His head bowed, and he licked a nipple through the camisole.
The same tingle of delight she’d experienced with his kiss raced through her, a feeling both foreign and frightening. Some of the girls loved mating. Their cries of delight often rang through the paper-thin walls. She’d never understood that. Sex for her was an act that completed a financial transaction. Most of the time, she simply tolerated it. Other times, it caused her pain. Every time, she was beyond glad when it was over.
Since the desire was still clear in his eyes—that, and his breathing had grown rough and ragged—she was assured he wasn’t disappointed. He knelt in front of her, untying her garters and tossing those ribbons over his shoulder. His fingers brushed against the skin of her thigh as he peeled down her stockings.
She closed her eyes. Her bath was going to have to wait.
All Caleb could do was gape at the beauty before him. Never in his wildest dreams could he have imagined he’d be married to an angel like Sara.
Now she stood before him in undergarments that revealed more than they hid, and he wanted her so badly, he knew they’d never even make it to the bed.
He jerked his own shirt open, letting the buttons fall like hailstones on the wooden floor. In his haste, he didn’t realize his boots were still on until his pants got all tangled up and he nearly pitched forward at his new bride.
A blush heating his cheeks, he fumbled to remove all of his clothes, casting them aside and then hurrying back to pull Sara into his arms.
The feel of her against him enflamed his yearning. He wanted to know all of her, to possess all of her. His mouth came down on hers, hard and urgent. His control had vanished, and he kissed her with a ferocity that surprised him—and yet he couldn’t gentle the kiss. He needed her surrender, demanded it by forcing his tongue into her mouth. Her taste was intoxicating, and he learned it, memorized it, savored it.
She tried to turn her head. Caleb wouldn’t allow it, holding her tighter against him as his tongue explored her mouth. Although she was holding back, she wasn’t fighting the kiss. After long moments, her tongue finally rubbed across his, forcing another growl to rumble deep in his chest.
He broke away, gasping for air as he pulled her camisole over her head and then untied her pantalets. Shoving them over her hips, he g
rabbed a drying cloth from where it laid draped over the side of the tub and spread it over the pile of their discarded clothing. Then he picked her up and set her on it, dropping down beside her.
Caleb was wild now, barely able to temper any of his actions. He wanted Sara to like it, but his thoughts were lost in the unquenched desire that had been eating him alive for so very long. As he smoothed his hand over her flat stomach, he leaned down and drew one of her puckered nipples into his mouth. He suckled while he let his fingers comb through the dark hair on her mound and then slide between her folds.
Trying to coax her response was more than he could handle. He knew little of a woman’s body, having heard some women simply couldn’t enjoy bed sports. Sara made little moans and sighs, but something about her reactions niggled in his thoughts. Sinking a finger deep inside her, he lost the last of his ability to think at all.
“I can’t wait, Sara,” he mumbled as he spread her thighs with his knee and settled his cock against her sheath.
Lost in need, he plunged into her. Again and again he thrust into her tight heat, feeling his release building inside him until he thought he’d explode.
Caleb spilled his seed into Sara with a shout of surrender before collapsing on her, trying to shield her from some of his weight by holding himself up on his elbows. His heartbeat thundered in his ears, and his eyes were closed tight. Moments passed in an awkward quiet as he tried to grab hold of his tumbling thoughts.
His body was sated, and he should’ve felt some contentment for having made love to his new bride.
Ah, but there was the problem. He’d been so lost in his own need, he hadn’t taken care to make sure Sara enjoyed the loving as well.
Opening his eyes, he pushed himself up enough he could look at her face. What he saw there was almost enough to make him weep in shame.
Her eyes were slumberous, almost as though she was about to drift off to sleep. There was no flush on her cheeks, no signs at all that she’d enjoyed their interlude. She hadn’t wrapped her legs around his hips or scored her nails across his back—nothing to show she’d even been an active participant.
All of his contentment vanished.
What had happened between them was no different than the visits he’d made to the cabin outside of town. The whores there had treated him much the same. They’d tried to stroke his masculine ego with fake sounds of pleasure, but he’d known the truth. They’d tolerated his use of their body.
The same way Sara just had.
“May I bathe now?” she asked, pushing against his chest.
Caleb rolled away. “That was selfish of me.”
She didn’t reply, only stood, jerked up the drying cloth, and immediately wrapped it around her body.
He grabbed her wrist when she tried to step away. “I mean it, Sara. That was selfish of me. I’m sorry.”
Her gaze found his, and he hated the sadness reflected in her eyes. “You have nothing to be sorry for, Caleb. I’m your wife now. I know my duty.”
“I was too...needy. I was too rough with you.”
“You were quite gentle,” she replied with a shrug.
“I used you,” he bluntly said. “That’s not how it should be between us. I don’t want this to be your…duty.”
With another delicate shrug, she pulled her wrist free and headed to the tub.
“I should heat the water.” Caleb got to his feet, fished out his pants, and donned them. “I’ll have your bath ready right away.”
It was the least he could do.
***
Sarah found Caleb waiting in the bed.
As soon as her eyes caught his, he pulled the quilt back and patted the spot next to him.
She snuffed out the last lamp and crawled onto the bed, settling herself on her side so she could see him.
He stared back.
Although she was bone-weary, her curiosity was killing her. “I don’t understand why you agreed to this marriage.”
“Told you. I was lonely.”
“Surely there are women here who would thank their lucky stars to have such a handsome husband and a beautiful home like this.”
His eyes widened. “You think I’m handsome?”
She saw no reason to play coy. “I do.”
He brushed a quick kiss over her mouth. “I think you’re damned pretty.”
The compliment was welcomed but disbelieved.
“I sent for you,” he explained, “’cause there ain’t an unmarried woman anywhere in the territory.”
“But Montana is…enormous. There have to be—”
He was already shaking his head. “Lots of land, but not lots of folks.”
“No other woman captured your heart?”
“No, ma’am…er, Sara. Had a fancy for Cassie Shay when she showed up in town, but then another rascal snatched her up.” He followed his word with a wink.
Sara liked the way he teased her about Ty being a “rascal.” Ty and Cassie were happily married according to her brother’s letter. Besides, had Caleb won Cassie, where would Sara be now?
A yawn slipped out, one she didn’t bother hiding behind her hand. “I fear I shall be asleep soon.”
Caleb rolled her to her back and rose over her. “You’re tuckered out. Get some sleep.” He gave her another no-nonsense kiss. Then he flopped to his side and moved her around until she laid on her other side, her back pressed to his chest. He molded the fronts of his thighs to the backs of her, and his erection told her he was going to be a greedy husband.
But that was a blessing. One man. All she would have to tolerate was one man.
She fell asleep with a smile on her face.
Caleb couldn’t sleep.
Although his body hummed in satisfaction, his thoughts tumbled around and around. He knew little of women, but he did know Sara hadn’t enjoyed their lovemaking.
Not that he’d been much of a lover... All he’d done was take. His body had demanded, and he’d surrendered his control to the lust pounding through him.
Never again, he vowed.
When he took his wife again, she would be a willing, active participant. While he didn’t possess much knowledge of how a woman’s body worked, he was an eager student. If Sara was willing to teach him what pleased her—and what didn’t—they could work together to make their beddings something enjoyable for both of them.
Caleb nuzzled her neck, kissing the hollow behind her ear.
Sara let out a sigh and brushed her sweet backside against his groin.
Hell’s fire, he wanted her again. Now. His cock hadn’t even softened after his climax, but he wasn’t about to use his bride again just to slake his lust.
There was more at stake here than he’d realized. While he’d been searching for a wife, he’d naïvely assumed she’d be a biddable, obedient woman. He hadn’t considered that she’d have a strong personality or a past that haunted her.
That’s what you get for thinking with your cock.
Well, Sara might not have been who he’d bargained for as a wife, but that was exactly who she was. His wife. They’d been legally wed, the marriage consummated, albeit ineptly on his part. His duty was to make her happy. Besides, a biddable, obedient wife might quickly bore him. He liked the fire he saw in Sara, knowing there was more to her than what she’d allowed him to see. He would win her trust so he could break through to find the real woman hiding behind the mask.
Before sleep claimed him, Caleb’s last thought was that he was a very lucky man.
Chapter Four
Sara woke, startled to find a man in bed with her.
Kate never let customers spend the night, knowing they’d want a second go. No way she’d lose that kind of profit. A whole night cost a cowboy a week’s pay. Few would spend money on the luxury.
Her memories of the day before came slamming back. Caleb Young—her husband—slept at her side, snoring and relaxed as though he didn’t have a care in the world.
Easing out of bed, she figured she should
make breakfast. She was, after all, a wife now. Problem was she had no idea how to cook anything.
Donning her wrinkled clothes, she hurried to the kitchen. She hadn’t had a chance to see it last night. Probably a good thing because Caleb might have wanted her to cook them some supper. Her stomach rumbled its emptiness since she hadn’t eaten anything but stale bread and cheese in more than a day.
There was a stove with pots and pans hanging on the wall at its side. She pulled down a frying pan, planning to make some eggs and perhaps ham if she could find some smoked meat. The food at The Palace was prepared for the girls by a Chinese woman, leaving Sara ill-equipped for the task. Since there weren’t any eggs to be found, she donned her coat and headed outside to fetch some from the hen house she’d spied when they’d arrived on the farm the night before. After risking her safety to fight with the enraged hens, she was able to retrieve six eggs, only suffering four scratches in the process. A fair trade.
Caleb waited for her at the door, wearing nothing but his pants. His suspenders hung from his hips as he leaned a shoulder against the door frame. He wasn’t even shivering from the cold.
“I was worried,” he said when she passed by him to go inside.
“Worried?”
He followed her to the kitchen. “I feared you might’ve...left.”
“Why would I leave?”
His response was a shrug as he followed her inside and shut the door. Then he held the eggs as she hung up her coat.
He started a fire in the stove while she cracked the eggs into a large ceramic bowl. Most of the girls at The Palace liked their eggs scrambled, so she would try that and hope for the best.
How difficult could it be to cook a few eggs?
“Fire’s going,” Caleb said as he stood to brush his hands against his pants.
“Thank you.”
“Gonna wash up and finish dressing.”
She gave him a nod. “I’ll cook breakfast. Then I assume we’ll have chores.”
He glanced out the window. “We slept pretty late. Might take us some time to catch up. Spent a lot of yesterday waitin’ on the stage. Fell a bit behind.” Coming up behind her, he ran his palms down her arms as she whipped the eggs with a fork. He kissed her cheek. “I’ll show you around the farm after breakfast.”