Lorraine Heath (20 page)

She saw Jake step out of the barn. He stopped beside a large tub of clear water and pulled off his shirt and his black, broad-brimmed hat. Then he dipped his cupped hands into the cool water and splashed it over his body, scrubbing his face and upper body, shaking the drops free like a puppy. He slipped back into his shirt, not bothering to button it, and used his hat to slap the dust off his pants as he walked towards the house.

He stopped abruptly when he saw her, every emotion he carried within his heart reflected in his deep brown eyes. The pointed toes of his boots were touching the edge of the porch, his feet still on the ground, placing Rebecca on eye level with him. She watched as his Adam’s apple bobbed up and down and he rubbed a hand unconsciously down a thigh.

“About this afternoon,” he began.

“Jacob is just fine,” she interjected. “The swelling on his cheek has already gone down.”

He nodded. “Good…. About what I did …”

“Taking us on a picnic was a wonderful idea. We both enjoyed it very much,” she said softly.

He closed his eyes, his throat visibly working to swallow. He opened his eyes, meeting hers squarely. “About what happened when we were laying on the ground. I … I took liberties I shouldn’t have. I’m sorry. It won’t happen again. I swear it won’t.”

She placed her palm on his cheek. “Jake …”

His hand came up, taking her wrist, moving her hand away from his face.

“You’d best not do that, Reb. As a matter of fact, I was thinking maybe I ought to start sleeping in the barn … until we can get a bigger house built … one with more rooms.” He had considered sleeping in the bunkhouse, but he didn’t want the men to know what his relationship with his wife entailed. He had some pride.

“In the barn … with the rest of the animals?” she asked.

His gaze dropped to the ground. He remained silent because
she was right. He had behaved like an animal. If a bee hadn’t decided to pay Jacob a visit, Jake probably would not have regained control of himself, and his promise to her would have been broken.

“I wouldn’t like it at all if you slept in the barn, Jake.”

Slowly, his eyes came up to meet hers. “I don’t think you understand, Reb.”

Her free hand came up to cup his cheek, and her shawl slid to the ground. “I want you in my bed.”

She watched him contemplating her words, his brows drawn together, his lips tight, and she knew he wasn’t sure that she understood.

“For eight months, I’ve been laying in your arms at night, sleeping in your tender embrace. Tonight, I want more than that,” she said quietly. In invitation, she slipped her arm around his neck, bringing her lips to his, running her tongue along the well-defined edges of his lips. Unconsciously, his hold on her wrist tightened as his lips parted and her tongue slipped inside to greet his. It wasn’t a passionate or fiery kiss; it was designed to reassure. She ran her hand down his arm, placing her hand in his. “Come to bed, Jake.” She walked towards the door, stopping when he failed to follow.

His eyes searched hers. “Are you sure?”

She moved back to him and pressed her cheek against his, speaking softly into his ear. “I’m sure.” She leaned back to meet his gaze squarely. “I wanted to kill that damn bee this afternoon.”

The right side of his mouth tilted up, and she leaned over, pressing a kiss against one corner. “I love your smile,” she whispered.

He wondered if it was possible to love part of a person without loving the whole person. “Let me take off my boots,” he whispered. “I don’t want to wake Jacob.”

Smiling, she whispered back, “No, we don’t want to wake Jacob.”

Silently they crept through the house, his hand gripping hers. They stopped when they were hidden behind the hanging quilt, facing each other.

Breathing was difficult, and Jake was certain she was
waiting for him to take the first step. He had often thought about this moment, wanting it perfect for her. He rubbed his hands down his thighs. Where to begin?

“Remember when you asked me about my going to a whorehouse?”

“Jake, now is not the time to tell me about all your exploits.”

“That’s just it. There was just the one time, ever, with any woman. And I was so damn drunk, I don’t remember most of it.”

She brushed away the hair at his temple. “There’s only been one time for me, too. Do you want to get drunk again?” she asked quietly.

“No, ma’am. I want to remember every moment of this.” His fingers lightly traced the outline of her face, his eyes lovingly caressing her features. “I love you, Reb. With all my heart, I do.”

Then his large, roughened hands cupped her silky smooth face, tilting it slightly as his lips pressed against hers. The tip of his tongue slowly circled the contours of her lips, before slowly slipping between the softness into the hot, wet recesses of her mouth. His mouth opened wider, bidding hers to do the same, their tongues probing and withdrawing only to probe again. She was everything he had ever been denied—beauty, kindness, tolerance, understanding—washing over him like a summer storm, drenching him, cleansing him, ending the emotional drought brought on by his mother’s untimely death.

Slipping her small hands under his open shirt, she pressed her palms against his taut skin, slowly moving them upwards, easing his shirt off his shoulders. Without breaking off the kiss, he brought his arms down, his shirt falling to the floor. He pressed her close to his bare chest. Through the thin cotton gown, he could feel the curves of her body, her warmth. He was stepping out of purgatory into heaven and wanted to savor the journey.

Stretching up onto her toes, Rebecca pushed herself closer to Jake, the warm, tingly feeling running rampant through her body. It was so much nicer than the sensations
she had experienced in the field when layer upon layer of clothing had separated them.

With trembling fingers, he worked on the buttons of her nightgown. She placed her hands over his, stilling his actions.

“You’ve seen me without clothes. After Jacob was born, you bathed me.”

“But I didn’t look at you then the way I’m going to look at you now.”

Bringing his hands to her lips, she placed a light kiss on each callused fingertip. “It’s only me.”

“It’s because it’s you,” he said. “I wouldn’t care if it was anyone else.”

She released his hands, brushing her fingers up into his hair as he returned to the glorious task of disrobing her. When he had slipped the last button through its hole, the one resting just below her navel, he put his hands on either side of the parted material, widening the crevice exposing her body. His hands touched only the cotton of the gown. She felt her entire body quivering in anticipation as he slowly removed the gown, never touching her. His slow movements created the gentlest of breezes whispering across her skin. Just his presence so near had tautened her nipples, and her breasts, bounteous from childbirth, were full and firm. She was surprised to find how much she ached for him to touch her.

“Can I loosen your hair?” he asked.

“You can do anything you want,” she said as she turned, giving him access to her bound hair.

For a moment, the braid was forgotten as he gazed at her in wonder. The tip of the braid rested against the small of her back, touching a tiny dimple just above her dainty, rounded backside. He remembered the feel of his hands pressing against her when he had pushed her in the swing. He loosened her braid, combing his fingers through the long, thick, ebony strands. She shook her head, releasing the scent of roses as her long mane fell gracefully around her narrow shoulders.

“Will you turn around? Just a little?” he asked.

She presented him with a partial profile. The moon peeking in through the curtains cast a halo around her, and his eyes lovingly roamed the length of her from her crown to her toes. Each feature warranted its own attention, its own praise. And his eyes did praise her.

“Lord, but you’re beautiful,” he said softly.

Lifting her hands, she cupped the air around her breasts. “I’m afraid some of this is going away when I stop nursing.”

“I know. I remember how you were shaped before. Just as beautiful as you are now.”

She had seen his compassion, felt his tender touch the day she thought she was losing the baby. She remembered his gentleness the night Jacob was born. But those moments paled in comparison to the gentleness he bestowed upon her now. His touch, as he ran his hands along the contours of her flesh, was as light as newly falling snow, and like the snow that coated the ground, his touch stayed with her after his hands moved on.

She pressed both palms against his flat stomach, then moved splayed fingers up his chest, admiring his lean form. As she gradually brought her hands back down, her eyes locked into his. She felt his body stiffen, his breath catch, as she began to push the buttons of his pants through their holes, one by one. She slipped her hands around to his backside, gliding them until they rested firmly between his clothes and his skin. Averting her eyes, she brought his pants and all he wore underneath down, helping him step out of them before removing his socks. Resting on her knees, she straightened her back. Lifting her gaze, she beheld him for the first time. She ran the tips of her fingers up his inner thighs, and then down, the hair covering his skin as soft as the down of a newborn duckling, the muscles firm and hard, and she relished the feel of them under her caresses.

“I almost envy your horse,” she said, “because these thighs hug him all day.”

She tilted her head up, her eyes holding his as her hands
took separate journeys up his thighs, meeting and molding themselves around their final destination.

Releasing a low groan, he pulled her up, his mouth locking onto hers as he backed her towards the bed. The back of her knees hit the mattress, jolting both of them, and she fell back onto the bed, with him falling down on top of her.

Slipping his arm under her, he scooted her over until they were laying lengthwise on the bed, her head pressed down into the feather pillow. Then he began his loving sojourn along her flesh, inhaling her sweet feminine scent, pressing kisses to her neck, behind her ear, down to the hollow of her throat, along her collarbone. Deliberating with himself, he placed a kiss in the valley between her breasts, hesitating before kissing the side of the breast he had cupped in his hand, not daring to go further.

“It’s all right,” she whispered.

His eyes snapped to hers. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You won’t,” she said.

His mouth came back to hers, the sweet cavern growing warmer with each sweeping thrust of his tongue. His mouth had never touched, never tasted a woman’s body, and there had never been any woman he wanted to taste as much as he wanted to taste her. Her body was so different from his, soft in places where his was hard, smooth where his was rough.

Tenderly, he kneaded her breast as his mouth left hers, trailing hot kisses, not stopping until he had pressed a kiss on the tightened, darkened orb. He covered it with his mouth, his tongue laving it at a leisurely pace as he sought to memorize the varying textures of her flesh.

She gasped, her back coming up off the bed, her hands digging into his scalp, pressing him closer. Unschooled in the art of love, he reveled in her reaction to him as he sought to show her with his hands, his mouth, his tongue how much he loved her.

She felt a warmth centering in the pit of her stomach cascading through her body and a hot wetness beginning between her thighs. His mouth moved to her other breast,
and she released a small cry. Without releasing his hold, he gazed up at her, grateful to find she didn’t look as if she were in pain. He took his mouth completely around her breasts before returning his lips to hers. He slipped a knee between her thighs, and she opened herself to him. Bringing the other knee in, he braced himself up above her, and looking down on her with love, reaffirmed his feelings with tender words before burying himself deep inside her. He found instant release … and mortification.

She felt him shudder, releasing a small anguished cry, and her arms tightened around him. She wondered how long he had wanted this moment, how much he had wanted it for his release to come so swiftly. The moon cast a silvery glow over his back, illuminating the crisscross of scars on his backside. Tears welled up in her eyes for the boy who had been beaten for expressing excitement, paraded around before others because he sought warmth. And for the man who had thought no woman could ever want him.

“I’m sorry, Reb.” His voice was thick beside her ear.

“For what?” she asked quietly.

Lifting his head away from her sweetly scented neck, he gazed down into her eyes. As inexperienced as he was, he had heard enough talk in the bunkhouse to know he had left her unfulfilled. “I should have waited. You should have … I just should have waited.”

Cupping his face in her hands, she brought his lips back down to hers, kissing him tenderly, accepting an apology when none was necessary.

“Do we have to stop now?” she asked gently. Firmly placing her hands on his scarred backside, holding him in place, she thrust her hips down. He had grown limp nestled inside of her, and her actions brought the blood rushing back to his loins. Slowly, she moved down and back up. “Do we?” she asked.

“No, ma’am.” He grinned down at her. “I reckon we don’t.”

His mouth came down on hers, his hips slowly moving in circles. She sighed, flattening her head back against the pillow while he covered the tip of her breast with his
mouth, sucking gently, and her gasps began again. He deepened his thrusts and her gasps began in earnest, her throat emitting little cries that ebbed and flowed with his movements, her hands bearing down on him, digging into his flesh. He hoisted himself above her, watching the expressions change on her face, her mouth softly agape, her eyes closed, now and then her brows drawing together and then relaxing. Her gasps became more audible, and then she released a cry as her back arched away from the bed bringing her body up to his. She seemed suspended in a realm of sensations. He had never witnessed anything so beautiful in his entire life. She slid down to the bed. Languorously, she opened her eyes, the blue liquid pools reflecting a depth of feeling that catapulted him into the same realm, this time without guilt, without shame. He dropped down to his elbows, wondering if he’d ever breathe normally again.