Coming Up Roses (26 page)

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Soap bubbles aglisten with sunlight clung to Kate's fingers, making her think of Zachariah's eyes. She lifted her hands to the window and turned her wrists, fascinated by the iridescent hues that glinted back at her. Was that why his eyes seemed to dance when he looked at her? Because, like multifaceted prisms, they picked up every flicker of light?

Her gaze came to rest on her new gold wedding band. Its luster was brilliant now, but she knew from experience that day in and day out punishment would soon dull its surface.

"You have beautiful hands."

The deep voice near her ear made her heart trip over itself, startling her so that she might have jumped clean out of her skin if not for the heavy palms that settled at her waist. "Zachariah," she said weakly.

"Beautiful everything." His lips feathered across her nape, his breath warm and steamy. "I didn't mean to spook you. Since I figured you'd be doing dishes, it seemed like a good time to play teacher."

"T-Teacher?"

"Today I mean to teach you a new meaning to an old word."

"You do?"

Unnerved by his nearness and the mischievous tone in his voice, Kate tried to evade him. The breadth of him pressed against her from behind, a hard, immovable wall that held her fast against the counter. With his hands riding her waist, she knew she didn't have a prayer of escaping him. Not that he needed close quarters as an advantage.

"Wh-Where's Miranda?"

"I've got her building a straw house out in the barn," he said with a chuckle. "Years ago, my pa taught me how.

Now I know why."

A shiver ran down her spine. His lips were very skillful in their play upon her senses, so silken yet firm, so light yet demanding. "And why was that?"

He found the small mole on the back of her neck and gently worried it with his teeth. The sensation called to mind other things he had nibbled last night, and a hot, liquid feeling pooled in the pit of her belly. "I suspect he wanted me out of his hair so he could torment my ma while she did the breakfast dishes," he replied in a husky voice. "There's something irresistible to most men about a woman doing dishes." His palms slid warmly up her sides. "I guess because she can't fight back with her hands all wet."

The way Kate saw it, she couldn't fight back bone dry. "She might come in."

"And she might not," was his laughing reply. "We decided her house needed at least seven rooms. That'll take a spell to construct, especially with Nosy being his usual unhelpful self. Besides, if she comes in, we'll hear her in plenty of time."

In plenty of time for what? she wondered.

His fingertips halted their ascent at the underside of her breasts. "Lord, Katie, you are so sweet. I'd like to start out at your toes and taste every square inch of you.

Kate was suddenly having difficulty breathing. She extended an arm for the towel rack, but it was beyond her reach. "H-How do you build a straw house?"

"Slowly," he moaned. "Very slowly." He bent his dark head to brush his lips over hers and then waged a silken assault along the column of her throat. His fingertips began a light, kneading caress on her ribs, not venturing to her breasts but uncomfortably close. "Relax, Katie. After that breakfast, I'm not likely to sink my teeth into you."

"Kate," she corrected.

"And what is that you find so objectionable about my calling you Katie?"

She gulped for breath. He had the oddest effect on her, making her heart slam and her knees liquify. Her body responded to him like a tuning fork, the notes thrumming along her nerve endings, shrill and off-key. "Katie is a child's name. For someone small and—" She dropped her head forward in an attempt to escape his mouth. "I like to be called Kate."

"Ah, but to me you're Katie," he whispered. He splayed his hands, his fingertips meeting below the cleavage of her breasts. "Someone small and sweet, my Katie girl. You can be Kate to everyone else in the world, but to me, you'll always be Katie. It's how I think of you, and I don't think that'll ever change."

Kate gave up on trying to keep her neck away from him. He was so tall that her evasive tactics were useless. He simply hunched his shoulders and followed. Lifting one hand to her collar, he deftly began unfastening buttons.

"What are you doing?"

His voice was tight with laughter. "I've never been so fascinated with a woman's buttons in my entire life."

The plackets of her bodice fell open. "Zachariah, it's broad daylight."

"So it is."

His shoulders curled around her as he bent his head to trail kisses in the wake of his descending fingertips.

Hungry and hot, his mouth fell upon the beginning swell of her left breast. The swirling heat in her belly coiled into a burning knot and nosedived to an aching place just above the apex of her thighs.

"I love you," he told her with throbbing intensity. "I think I have since the first second I saw you. Have I told you that?"

Kate blinked and tried to focus. "N-No. Y-Yes. I—I can't remember."

"Well, I'm telling you now. I want that to be the first thing you think of when you wake up each morning and the last thing when you drift off to sleep at night. Will you do that for me?"

"I can try."

"After I brought Mandy up from the well, you said I could name anything I wanted or needed," he murmured.

"That's my request, for you to remember I love you. And that I love Mandy. I'll never harm either one of you. I'd like for you to try and believe that."

Kate felt his yearning in the rigidly bunched muscle of his arms, heard it in the urgent pounding of his heart. The liquid sensation in her knees spread slowly over her until she was no longer certain she could stand alone. She grabbed the counter edge for support. What was he doing to her?

"Zachariah?"

He freed more buttons, his tongue making fiery forays under the edge of her camisole. Her nipples sprang taut, as sensitive as if they'd been chafed all day by starched cotton, but instead of shrinking protectively into themselves, they thrust forward, beaded and throbbing. Plucking ribbons loose with a masterful hand, he nipped lightly at her skin, making a beeline toward one aching crest, as though he knew exactly what her body craved.

"Zach-a-riah?"

Her bodice and camisole fell away. He leaned slightly sideways. Kate gasped as the surface of his tongue curled around her. The world shrank into a swirling red dot of sensation, and she was spinning in its hot center. He cupped her breast and lifted it. His mouth closed on her in a hard pull.

When he moved his other hand to ride low on her belly, Kate stiffened reflexively and grabbed for his wrist.

"Don't," he whispered against her skin. "Trust me, just this one time. I swear you won't regret it."

Trust him? Memories rushed at her, all unpleasant. She couldn't count the times that Joseph had cornered her here on this very spot. What had occurred during those confrontations was beyond thinking about.

"I didn't do anything to start this," she informed him with a firmness that even she knew fell short of convincing.

"Of course not," was his husky reply, but he didn't pause in his assault. "Like I told you last night, all you have to do is be in the same room with me."

"All I've been doing, all I've had on my mind, is doing the dishes."

"Absolutely. It's just that you look so damned delectable when you're doing dishes. I can't resist you. I'll take all the blame."

Despite his reassurances, Kate couldn't discard five years of memories and half expected him to start raving at her at any moment. Panic rushed through her. "Don't, please…"

The heel of his palm pressed hard against her and ground in a circular motion that robbed her of what little breath she had left. She felt him gathering cloth, felt the hem of her skirt lifting. A picture of Joseph's face flitted through her mind.

"Zachariah?"

His broad, leathery hand slipped inside the waistband of her bloomers. "Don't be afraid, Katie," he whispered raggedly.

Another rush of fear trilled up her spine. She dug her nails into the wood. He ran soothing kisses up her chest until his mouth found the pulsebeat at the hollow of her throat. Kate knew the thrum was frantic, and that he would know by its pace how frightened she was.

"Promise me you aren't angry?" she whispered.

"Honey, the very last thing on earth I feel is anger. I promise you that. I'll swear it on your Bible if you want me to. You're beautiful and sweet, and I wouldn't change a thing about you."

He trailed kisses along the underside of her jaw, making Kate realize with a vague sense of surprise that she had melted against him, her head thrown back against his shoulder.

"You're perfect. Absolutely perfect. And I want you with every breath I take. That doesn't make me angry, but glad."

An electrical tingle shot through her, and she gasped at the shock of it. "What are you—Zachariah, don't do that, please."

He made another light pass over an incredibly sensitive place, and her body spasmed. "Relax, Katie girl. You've been to hell and back for being 'lustful,' and I don't think you even know the meaning of the word."

Kate could feel her control scattering, and she made another desperate grab for his wrist. Her bunched skirt frustrated the attempt. During the delay, his fingertips flicked the sense right out of her. Her legs buckled and she wilted, her only support the firm saddle of his palm.

"How can anything so wonderful be wicked?" he asked. "When a man and woman love one another, Katie, the longing they feel for one another is beautiful and right and sacred. That's the way God intended it to be."

Shocked by the sensations he sent ricocheting through her, she cried out.
Soap bubbles
. A rainbow of iridescent colors danced before her eyes. As if possessed of a will all its own, her body arched toward his hand. The sensation built and built to a spiraling pinnacle, and then burst within her, so white-hot it seared her whole body.

Wave after wave of after-tingles jerked her limp muscles. She sobbed and would have fallen face first into the pan of sudsy water if not for the support of his angled arm.

"That," he whispered, "is what lust is all about. And I'll wager my whole life's savings this is the first time you've ever had so much as a taste of it. Joseph, God rest his miserable soul, was a raving lunatic, and if he were alive right now, I'd send him straight back to hell for whatever it was he did to you."

Hanging there in his arms, Kate could make little sense of what he was saying, only that his tone was angry when he spoke of Joseph. What registered was the strength of his body supporting hers and his gentleness. Not long ago, she had longed to melt into him; now she felt as if she had.

Slowly, measure by measure, reality returned to her. Stark and blinding. A sunlit window. A pan of sudsy water.

Dirty dishes. And her bodice hanging open to her waist. No man had ever seen her in such a state. Judging from the way Zachariah stood, she guessed he was looking his fill. She made a feeble move to refasten her dress only to discover his hand was still inside her camisole. On the heel of that realization, she felt his other hand still cupping the softness between her legs.

A wave of humiliation washed over her. "Zachariah, it's broad daylight," she cried.

"I think you mentioned that. And so it is."

Another jolt of sensation shot through her. She gasped and tried to move, which only heightened the friction.

"This is indecent."

"No, it's beautiful," he murmured. "You're beautiful. So beautiful. I love you, Katie. Especially when I'm holding you. For me, the hell of it would be if I could never touch you like this. Don't ever forget that."

Kate was vaguely aware of a door slamming in some distant part of the house. Zachariah stiffened and said,

"Damn."

He set himself to the harried task of retying the bows of her camisole and refastening her buttons.

"My bloomers," Kate cried and grabbed frantically at her skirt.

He groped along her leg and gave a sharp upward tug on her underwear, then abandoned his hold on her as the kitchen door flew open. "Just stand still. I'll get her out of here," he whispered.

"My house keeps falling down!" Miranda cried. "Will you come help me fix it?"

Kate clutched the counter's edge, so weak in the knees she was afraid she might fall when Zachariah moved away from her.

"You bet I will. We can't have your house down around your ears."

Hang the house, Kate thought. Her bloomers were about to reach her ankles. She threw her husband a horrified look as she felt the muslin slide slowly down her legs and puddle on the floor. All she could do was pray her skirt would hide it.

"Wanna come help, Ma? It's lotsa fun."

"Um, no, not right now, sweetness. I'm washing dishes," Kate said shakily. "You two go on and have—fun."

Zachariah's hazel eyes met hers, his rife with mischief. "I'll get back to you and our vocabulary lesson later."

Numb with incredulity, Kate watched as he followed Miranda from the kitchen, for all the world as though nothing untoward had just occurred between them.