Hotter on the Edge (16 page)

Hudson walked toward Lake, making his footsteps heard. It wasn't smart to startle a feisty mare, and he supposed the same could be true for wives.

Her head jerked up. Her gaze followed him the length of the barn. Had he ever noticed a person's eyes before? He noticed hers. He'd never seen that color. They were so large and blue they had the look of an exotic creature amongst the dull browns and blacks of the other men.

"You ready then?" he said. It was a stupid question, considering the circumstances. Odd that he even felt the need to break the silence between them.

She nodded. She'd rested earlier and had matched him plate for plate during dinner. She'd eaten like she hadn't in a long time or like she'd believed it would be her last.

The thought did nothing to ease his misgivings.

He leaned against the outside wall and watched the last of the twilight slip behind the mountains. "You'll be back by sunset tomorrow?" It was more of a statement then a question, but still it couldn't hurt to reiterate.

She nodded and looked anxiously toward the darkening landscape. Such a hurry to be off. Time to get to his point then. He swallowed. "I wanted to ask something of you."

Her blue gaze flicked back to his face, he guessed in an attempt to read him. "The bargain is already set. A man of honor wouldn't attempt to re-negotiate."

Was he a man of honor? It was hard to remember. Still, if he wanted a real marriage he'd have to trust at some point. But his trust only went so far. With the shortage of woman and the lack of places to hide, there was no where she could run that he wouldn't find her. "This has nothing to do with our deal. This is…it's something I'd like for you to give freely."

Lake shifted her bag and focused back on the distant horizon, probably tracing her route in her head. Men didn't dismiss him, and yet, his little dove did it so easily.

"Again, all I have belongs to you," she said. "And even if I had something to give, according to you, it has a price. There's nothing left. Unless of course, you want my life, but I guarantee that won't come free."

He refused to be goaded. "Such extremes, Lake. Here, I could be asking for something as simple as a smile, and you raise the stakes to that of life or death."

She turned her head and raised an eyebrow. "Is it a smile than?"

That had gotten her attention. Good. He hated to be the only one interested in this conversation. His smiled at that thought. "No…it's a bit more than that."

"Which is..."

My, my, was there something more than dispassionate acceptance in her eyes? "A kiss."

"A kiss?"

"Yes, I've heard it's customary for a husband and wife to share a goodbye kiss."

She twisted the strap of her bag around her finger then looked back up at him. "Have you ever done it before?" Her voice had lowered to the level used for secrets and behind-closed-door sins.

"No, but I am up for a demonstration. You?" Hudson was glad he was leaning far enough away so she couldn't hear the hammering in his blood.

"Once. When I was a teenager there'd been an Elder who had wanted to buy me for a wife. My father rejected his suit. Later, he surprised me when I was out looking for my brother. He grabbed me and stole a kiss from behind a tree."

"What happened?" He was strangely surprised at the tightening of skin at the base of his skull.

"My father found us. The man escaped with his life…and a bullet in his leg."

He nodded. There might be some sympathy for a man willing to risk his life for a simple kiss, but what a father had to do to protect his daughter in a world full of men was nothing he'd question.

"Where are your parents now?" He wouldn't have minded meeting the man who'd kept his daughter from being married off at some ridiculously young age. Some men had been known to do much less for their daughters.

Lake pulled the brim of her hat lower. "Dead. Influenza."

She was lying. Dead he believed. Influenza he did not, even though it was a common enough way to go. "It looks like you're the one with the experience, so I'll be following your lead."

"And what if I say no?"

He couldn't stand it. She drew him as a mare in heat would draw a stallion. In two strides he stood over her. If she needed convincing, he would convince. Putting fear into her hadn't worked, maybe sweetening his words would. "You're beautiful. Has anyone ever told you that?"

"Many times," she deadpanned.

"Of course, they have. How about your eyes? Have they told you your eyes are like the ocean?"

"You've seen the ocean?"

"Once, when I was a boy. Would you like me to take you? I would you know, just say the word and we could go."

"I've no desire to see the ocean," she said, but couldn't meet his eyes.

"Really? How about the mountains then? Have you ever seen snow? Your hair is the same color. The winters are slow on the farm. We could go for a time. I could teach you how to make snow angels and forts." He twirled a strand of her hair in his finger and brought it to his lips.

"I-I prefer to do things alone, and I don't like playing childish games." Her fair skin couldn't hide the flush of blood as it warmed her cheeks, traveled her neck, and disappeared underneath her shirt. He wondered how far down her blush went. He liked the thought that one day soon, he'd find out.

"Maybe you haven't been playing the right games. The ones I have in mind are fun, and even more so when played together." He braced one hand on the wall behind her head and angled his body in such a way—not to trap—but for her to know he was close. Lake took a step back, notched her head to look up at him. He bowed his own.

She was so small and slight. He could see the protruding ridge of her collarbone and how it dipped into a half moon at the base of her throat. He wanted to smell her, taste her, bloody hell, he'd settle for a brush of her fingers across his own. Tiny veins mapped out blue rivers underneath the translucent skin of her chest, skin he'd bet was as soft as the fuzz on a new-born chick.

He lowered his whiskered jaw to brush the spot where her shoulder sloped up to her neck.

She started, but didn't pull away. Good enough for him.

His nose traced a path to behind her ear where her skin met hair the color of clouds. He inhaled.

The first real scent of his wife, and all he could think of was surprise. He thought she'd smell just like any other person, maybe cleaner, simpler, but this was…dewy skin flush from a bath, meadows fresh after a rain. This was the scent of his longings on dark winter nights, the buzzing of spring during mating season. The aroma of cravings he hadn't known he even had.

This was
his
woman.

"What are you doing?"

"Waiting—very patiently I might add—for you to say yes."

"I need to go."

"Then your answer is no?"

In the quiet, he could hear each of her shuddered breaths. Then she shook her head.

He whispered in her ear. "So you're saying yes?"

She nodded.

It wasn't enough. He brushed his lips against the shell-like ridge of her ear. "Say yes."

He had sighed the words more than spoken them. He felt her tremble as chills textured her skin. Hudson smiled. She wasn't nearly as unaffected as she'd let on.

"Yes."

Carefully, so as not to frighten, his lips trailed a path to hers. The soft press of skin was sweet. But sweet was for elderly parents and loyal, old plow mares. He was a man, and he'd waited a long time for a wife.

He pressed for more with his lips, with his body.

Her hand fluttered up to his chest and then rose and cupped the back of his neck.

Still not enough.
He kissed at the corners of her mouth, pulled at the fullness of her bottom lip. Her mouth parted on a sigh. He captured her exhalation.

Be bold.
She'd bolt, run away, be scared and disgusted at his advances. But even as he had the thought, he couldn't help the tentative touch of his tongue past her parted lips.

Lake startled alright. Then with no shame, she opened her mouth and plunged into his with a wild sweep of her tongue.

Now, it was his turn to be startled, and he handled it so much better. He jerked back. "What was
that
?"

If her blush before was a fine pink, her coloring now could be nothing short of fire red. Lake pushed him back and lowered her head so all he could see was the top of her ugly brown cap.

"That's enough kissing," she said, her voice a few octaves shy of a squeak.

For the most part, Hudson considered himself to be a smart man. He knew how to read and write and anything with numbers came easily to him. But he realized when it came to seducing his wife, he wasn't just a slow learner, he was a complete idiot.

He reached for her. "I didn't mean we had to stop..."

Lake swung her bag. He was sure it was just to adjust her pack from one shoulder to the other; knocking his hand out of the way had been purely accidental.

It hadn't felt accidental. Especially as his wife squared her shoulders and walked out into the night. He watched her hips, encased in a pair of tight pants, sway into the distance.

At thirty-four, he'd finally had his first kiss and then promptly had blown it. If he'd screwed this up, how the hell was he going to make it through his wedding night?

He smiled. As with anything, it would take practice.

Perhaps years and years of practice.

***

Lake stumbled across the vast desert valley. Distant mountains surrounded her on all sides like hardened sentinels, their rocky faces obstacles to her escape. There was nowhere to hide, no trees or rolling hills, just barren land until the steep upturn of the mountain paths. Only the moon and stars bore witness to her reddening face, and still her heart beat as if she were in a race. She couldn't get the image of Hudson's shocked face out of her mind. What had she been thinking? What in The Path had she been thinking to stick her tongue inside Hudson's mouth like that?

And yet, under the cloak of night and isolation, Lake could admit his embrace hadn't felt disgusting. She hadn't told Hudson the full truth. When she'd first been kissed it was by an Elder who had been years older and many degrees richer than her father. Her family would've been well off if the proposal had been accepted. But her father had rejected the old man. Later, when her suitor had found her in the woods and stuck his tongue in her mouth, all she'd thought was that kissing was wet and tasted like sour wine and apples. She'd no doubt things would've gone further, except her father had heard her screams and come out to investigate—with his shot gun.

If she'd known what she knew now, she would've lain down and let the Elder take her right then and there. But that was the cruelty of hindsight, it allowed a person to see their choices, but never allowed the changing of them.

But kissing Hudson had been different. No one had ever talked to her that way before. No one had ever taken the time to ask her what she wanted. In a world full of men, a woman got used to cold and cruel. There was no room for gentleness, no room for whispered compliments. Why Hudson had done that? She had no idea. And she didn't know what to think about the tender way he had tangled her hair in his fingers. The way he'd taken his time to inhale her scent, and how his breath had tickled the delicate skin behind her ear. And she didn't want to think of how her palm had rested on his chest and the thump of his heart had her wondering if he'd been in a race of his own.

During the brief moment when Hudson had held her in his arms, the plague of demons had ceased their chatter, the darkness had pulled back, and the weight of her guilt had been set down.

Lake scrubbed her hand over her face. She had no time for this. Fantasies of kisses were for weak, love-struck girls. She was neither. So what if Hudson thought she was disgusting and ill-mannered? His opinion didn't matter. It wasn't as if she'd ever see him again.

There was a cramp in her belly, but Lake ignored it—shouldn't have had that third helping of stew. Of course, it had nothing what-so-ever to do with breaking her promise to Hudson. She had other promises to keep, ones that superseded a wife's to her husband. Besides, Lake would've broken a vow to God himself to make this meeting.

The distance from her rendezvous point to her childhood home had only been a few minutes' walk, but from Hudson's farm it was a lot farther. It hadn't been difficult sneaking out of her house during the first night of the full moon to meet her contact. But then the raid had happened and she'd spent months in prison. Now, she didn't even know if her contact would be waiting for her.

Did they have Vonn?

That one question burned like a venomous sting in her belly and looped in her mind never finding an answer.

Was Vonn even alive?

She'd played both possibilities out in her mind. The Rebels had Vonn; he was safe and waiting for her at their camp. And then there was the other possibility, the one that whispered that choices had consequences. Lake had made her choice.

A simple life brings God's favor, but a life of distractions, his displeasure.

She'd left the simple path of The Way, and had complicated her life. Had she incurred God's wrath? Would Vonn's death be her punishment?

The moon—and her exhaustion—played tricks with the light, making the way unclear. Lake tripped and skidded to a stop on her hands and knees. She pushed herself back up, ignoring the sting on her palms.

Vonn is just a little boy. He's innocent.

But she wasn't. She'd left The Way. She would've done anything to secure her brother a better life. And yet, that might be the very reason Vonn could be dead right now.

Lake hadn't thought about the night her world had gone up in flames. It was too painful. Too big to let out. But now, with the wide openness of the land around her and the vastness of the sky above, there seemed to be enough room. Enough space to release her pain.

The Rebels had come at night, always at night, as if that was any protection.

"Go to your room, Lake," her father had said. "And take your brother with you."