Lonesome Bride (7 page)

"It's a deal,” she said.

Without stopping to think just what she had gotten herself into, Caite leapt nimbly to her bare feet and bounded along the drafty plank floor until she reached the bed. Before she could change her mind, she hopped onto the lumpy straw mattress and pulled the single wool blanket up to her chin. Quickly, she scooted herself over next to the wall as far as she could go, aiming to leave plenty of room for Jed. After all, she had meant what she said about being able to resist impropriety. Had she not?

"I ... I'm ready, Jed,” she called softly. Her stomach churned with anticipation. It was all fine and good to have made the offer to share the bed with him all night, but now, when it was actually going to happen, her insides were as knotted as a pair of stockings in a washtub.

"I'll be there in a minute."

Caite thought his voice sounded a trifle strained, and her stomach once more fluttered. Maybe Jed was just as nervous as she. They had shared some pretty passionate kisses. Maybe he was afraid, as she was, that being so close would cause them to forget themselves.

"I brought an extra blanket.” Jed stood awkwardly by the side of the bed for a minute. Then, he shook the folded cover out to its full size and laid it gingerly atop her. Still, he stood, looking everywhere but at her.

"Are you going to get in, Jed?” Caite felt very bold suddenly. “You're going to catch cold."

Jed nodded, then abruptly slid between the covers. Caite gasped a little at the touch of his icy feet against her just-warmed legs, then laughed. After a moment, Jed laughed, too. For five minutes the bed shook with their combined mirth as each expended their nervous energy through laughter.

Finally, wiping tears from her eyes, Caite managed to control herself. “I'm not sure what was so amusing, Jed, but thank you for laughing with me."

Jed tipped an imaginary hat to her. “You're mighty welcome there, Miss Caite."

Once she stopped laughing, Caite became excruciatingly aware of how small the bed really was. Despite being pressed against the wall, and Jed nearly hanging over the other edge, their bodies were still uncomfortably close. It doesn't have to be uncomfortable, she thought against her will.
This bed could be just the right size for two people in love.

She blushed, suddenly wanting nothing more than to take back the offer of sharing this lumpy mattress with Jed. Even sleeping on the floor could not be worse than this torture. He was so close, and yet she was unable to touch him. And shame on her for even thinking such things! What was it about this man, this moody, arrogant man that could make her into just the hoyden he thought she was?

"Tell me about yourself, Jed,” she said to quell her impure thoughts.

Jed turned his head to look at her, brow furrowed. “What do you want to know?"

"Oh, about your parents, anything.” Caite waved her hand airily as if she had personal conversations while lying almost naked in bed with near strangers every day.

"You want to know about my family?” Jed seemed surprised, but shrugged. The action brought his shoulder into contact with hers for one brief, tantalizing second before they were no longer touching again.

"Of course I do. I want to know everything about you, Jed."

Curling his left arm behind his head, Jed settled his body further into the mattress before he replied. “Well, my mother died about three years ago. Her name was Heather."

"Heatherfield,” said Caite softly. The name of the ranch made sense now. “How beautiful."

Jed smiled. Once more, Caite's insides fluttered. It seemed, despite her best intentions, she was going to keep imagining the sorts of things proper girls did not think about. So she was no proper girl ... What of it, she thought defiantly. She relished the sight of Jed's smile some more. This man was going to be her husband. She guessed she could look at him if she wanted.

"Mama was beautiful."

"How did she die, Jed?” Caite bit her lip. Perhaps that was an indelicate question. Jed did not seem to take offense.

"She took sick. Influenza. We lost a lot of people in Lonesome that year.” Jed paused for a moment. “That's when I lost my wife, Patricia."

At the sound of the other woman's name, Caite felt a sharp stab in her heart.
Jealousy?
“You must miss her very much."

"Sometimes,” Jed said. “But me and Trish, well ... I'd known her all my life just about, but I never really knew her as my wife. She liked to keep to herself. Besides, we weren't married very long."

"But you must have loved her,” Caite said.

"Love?” Jed chuckled a little bitterly. “Let's just say I tried to."

"I'm not sure I understand.” Caite was confused by his strange tone.

"How can you love someone who just sucks in everything you give her and never gives it back?” Jed asked. “She had me dancing rings around her just to get a smile. The more I told her I loved her, the further away she got. Finally, I reckon I just ran out of love to give her."

Caite's heart sank. It would have been difficult enough to battle the memory of a beloved wife. Trying to combat the damage done by an emotional void like Patricia would be nearly impossible.

But what was she thinking? How selfish of her to be worrying about such things. It was Jed who had suffered them.

"I am sorry,” she offered.

Jed looked at her. “Don't be. My problems with Trish don't have anything to do with you."

"She must've left something good with you,” Caite said, thinking of the son Pastor Jonas had mentioned.

Jed appeared to think. “Nope, I'm sorry to say she didn't. And the thing is I'm the one who feels guilty about that. Like it was my fault she couldn't trust anyone to enough to love them back."

"What about your son?"

He looked at her curiously. “Son?"

Caitleen faltered. Clearly Jed had no idea about what she was saying. “Pastor Jonas said you had a son."

Jed shook his head. “Trish and I had no children. It's just as well, I reckon. I don't guess I'd be much of a father."

Caite frowned. The pastor had specifically mentioned a boy child. Obviously, Jonas had been wrong.
Oh, well.
She had rushed him rather unmercifully to find a place for her in the program. He had sifted through an entire stack of papers before she had agreed to Jed Peters and Lonesome, Montana. Most likely, the pastor had gotten one name mixed up with another.

Against her will, she felt a glint of pleasure at the knowledge any children she brought into the marriage would be a first for both of them. Except, of course, that Jed had just declared he was not cut out for fatherhood.

"Why ever not?” Caite asked. “Why would you not make a good father, Jed?"

Jed looked at her levelly, one handsome brow cocked. “In case you hadn't noticed, Miss Chatterbox, I don't reckon I'd ever win any awards for patience."

Caite bit her lip again, this time to hide a smile. “I hadn't noticed any such thing, Mr. Peters."

"Then you're mighty unobservant, Miss O'Neal."

She could see the glint of good humor in his stunning green eyes. Heavens, those eyes made her thighs quiver like an overly taut bowstring. And there she was, back to thinking those carnal thoughts again. Still, it was nicer than she could have hoped, lying snug under the covers and talking with Jed. He has a soothing voice, she thought.
Just a little rough, like his personality.
Now, when he was teasing and smiling, she could almost forget he had made her cry.

"I notice many things about you, Jed,” she said almost shyly.

Jed broke their gaze. “Maybe you oughtn't."

Now he was turning sullen again. What had she done? Caite thought quickly. As long as they were on light topics, he was all right. She decided to change the subject.

"I think you'd make a fine father, despite what you say.” She thought for a minute. “A better one than my own father anyway. Although that's not saying very much."

"Well, I don't gamble, if that's what you mean.” His voice was no longer teasing, but at least he had ceased his formidable scowl.

Caite laughed ruefully. “No. And I don't suppose you fritter either."

A chortle escaped the man beside her. “I beg your pardon, Miss O'Neal. That's hardly proper talk."

Caite glanced at him to determine if he were going to accuse her of acting unladylike again. To her relief, she saw he was joking. She risked a playful tap on his shoulder.

"And it is most ungentlemanly of you to point out such an inadvertent indiscretion, sir!"

Jed chuckled again, mock cringing from the light blow she had given him. “Watch those fingers, Miss O'Neal. I'm beginning to think you have designs on me."

At his words, Caite blushed horribly. She wanted to reply, to deny any such thoughts, but the words would not come. She gulped, meeting Jed's gaze. He was no longer grinning, she saw. In his eyes, she saw a reflection of her own desire.

His face was so close to hers. She wanted to reach out and run the tips of her fingers over the scruff of beard that had sprung up during their trip. She thought it would be both soft and scratchy. Caite shivered slightly. She had to keep her mind from thoughts of touching him! He had made it very clear there was to be no intimate contact until they were husband and wife. The last thing she wanted to do was ruin a pleasant interlude by doing something to make Jed angry again.

"Well, good night,” she said abruptly. Maybe in sleep she would find refuge from the sensuous feelings assaulting her. She could tell by Jed's expression her sudden dismissal had taken him aback, but she pretended not to notice.

"'Night,” he echoed.

Caite turned forcefully onto her side, facing the wall, and began to breathe in slow, even breaths. Behind her, Jed shifted. His weight caused her to slide a little closer to the center of the bed, so that for another brief moment, they touched again. He pulled away. She sighed in relief. A moment later, she had to move in order to relieve pressure on her arm from the weight of her body. Their bodies again met. This time, she moved.

Caite began to pray for morning.

Next to Caite, Jed was concentrating on ignoring the firm length of feminine thigh intermittently pressing so deliciously against his own. Even through the cloth of his trousers and her night shift, he felt the heat of her skin. He shifted to the left another fraction. There. Now his left buttock was hanging over the side of the bed, and a draft was firmly caressing it.

Well, better a blast of cold air than Caitleen's warm fingers, he thought, then cursed himself. The thought had done nothing to increase his comfort.

She's so much more than just a pretty face atop a lush body, Jed thought ruefully.
She's bright, and funny, and warm, too.
She'd even managed to get him talking about Patricia, a subject he'd sworn off long ago. He'd told Caite things he'd never even shared with Shorty, or his Pa. She just had that way about her, he could see. Not only did a man want to lose himself in the bounteous promise of her curves, he'd want to stay and talk to her afterward. Caite sure was something special.

The more he tried to fight against it, the more he remembered the fresh taste of her lips. The lilac scent of her hair was maddening. Every inch of him strained toward her.

"Jed,” said Caite suddenly. “This is ridiculous."

Jed looked at the woman beside him. “What?"

Propping herself up on one elbow, Caite made a gesture including both of them. “This. Look, you're nearly falling out of bed, and I'm crushed against a wall of dirty boards. This is not what I had in mind when I suggested we share the relative comfort of this bed."

"And what did you have in mind?” Jed asked. He was amused to see her blush. The color on her cheeks reminded him of the flush a woman got while making ...
Tarnation!
He frowned, hoping to discourage what he knew would come next from her mouth.

"Well, it seems to me if we both lay in the center of the bed, we'll have ample room—and remain warmer besides."

She had blurted the words breathlessly, almost as if she were afraid of saying them. Her seeming reluctance was at odds with her bold offer. Here she was, practically offering herself to him on a platter. No proper young maiden would have dreamed of such a thing. Which must mean she was no maiden.

Arousal was clouding his judgment. It seemed to him, if she wasn't a virgin, then taking what she offered wouldn't be such a bad thing. Even if she was meant for his Pa, a man couldn't rightly be expected to resist a woman like Caite, could he? Not when she was practically begging for him to make love to her.

"You mean, move to the center like this?” Jed rolled at once to the mattress's middle. Throwing his left arm around her waist, he drew Caite to the center also so that, in an instant, their bodies were touching full-length.

"Not quite like that,” Caite stammered. Her face, if it was possible, had flushed the color of new bricks.

"Then you must mean like this.” Jed wrapped his arms around Caite while simultaneously sliding his knee to nestle at the juncture of her thighs.

"Oh!” Caite's startled outburst was quickly stifled as Jed crushed his mouth to hers.

Propriety could go to the devil. He was going to make love to this wench. She was driving him mindless with her mixture of eager vixen and coy maiden. Never mind the sanctity of the marriage bed. That was something they could both deal with later.

Caite, it seemed, was as eager for his touch as he for hers. No longer playing at coyness, she opened her mouth to him as soon as he tugged her bottom lip with his teeth. Jed's tongue swept the inside of her sweet mouth, and she returned the gesture. First tentatively, then with increasing confidence, Caite met his kisses with her own. Jed was enthralled. She had the exterior of an untouched miss, yet she was a firebrand when provided with the simplest spark.

Her body was molten next to his. Jed was dimly aware of her nightshift riding up her thighs. He had to touch that creamy flesh. Sliding his hands from her back to the first rounded swell of her buttocks, Jed inched the thin linen of her gown up and up until he had freed Caite's body from the waist down.