Restless Heart (3 page)

If only she could keep it.

With a sigh, she set the book on the bed and rose. It was time to go to work. The sun was nearly up, which meant she was already late getting the biscuits made.

As she walked out the door, she looked back at the book lying on the bed so innocently. Angeline should have handed it back to Samuel the day before, or at least dropped it by his house in the afternoon. All she could do now was wonder why she had not.

Samuel woke abruptly, covered in sweat and breathing as if he’d run from one end of town to the other. After taking deep gulps of air to chase away the shadows riding his back, he took a sip from the glass of water on the stand next to the bed. He’d discovered soon after returning home from the war that if he didn’t pour the water in the glass before bed, his hands shook too much to do it after he woke.

The room was awash in the gray light of dawn, cold enough that he could almost see his breath. He needed to get up and stoke the fire, but he couldn’t yet because of his wounded leg. The muscles were constantly sore, but now he was in pain, and a great deal of it. It was a reminder of the war he could not forget, no matter how hard he tried. The blood, the pain, the very image of the bayonet slashing open his thigh replayed itself almost daily. Another “gift” from his time as a soldier.

After a few minutes of vigorous rubbing, the pain receded
enough that he could finally get up. Sam rose and walked to the window. He pressed his forehead against the cold glass.

Something had happened in his dream. He couldn’t quite remember what, but he knew it had to do with Angeline. She had been in danger and he was desperate to help her. They’d exchanged a few dozen words and now he was dreaming about her?

What the hell was that all about?

Sam was afraid he was becoming obsessed with the blonde. Jesus, he’d bought her a gift before he’d even heard her speak a word. How loco was that? His fellow soldiers would have teased him mercilessly about being a lovesick fool.

They might not have been too far off the mark either.

He managed to shake off the uneasy feeling that plagued him, but just barely. She had secrets behind her blue eyes, deep ones he craved to know more about, even if he wouldn’t admit it to anyone else. For six months she’d lived and worked at the restaurant, without anyone really getting to know her.

Sam just wanted to stop being obsessed with her. It was causing him to lose sleep, spend plenty of time pleasuring himself, and countless minutes wondering what she was doing, thinking, planning. He was a fool and he knew it.

She hardly knew he existed.

None of that changed his feelings though. He craved her presence like the earth craved the rain. She was mysterious, alluring, and he was attracted to her as he’d never been to anyone before. Perhaps if he kissed her it would break the spell she seemed to weave around him without even trying.

Sam cleaned up and dressed, telling himself he was hungry for breakfast and not hungry for Angeline. Oh, how he lied.

The morning air was a light caress on his face as he walked toward the Blue Plate. A low mist hovered over the ground as he walked through town. The sun peeked over the horizon,
not yet strong enough to burn off the chill in the air. Spring was coming, finally, judging by the fact the dew had not frozen.

If spring was just around the corner, it meant he would get more work and maybe his father could sell the newspaper business. He was having more bad days than good and Sam knew it was only a matter of time before his father would have to be watched all the time. For that, Sam needed money. He’d have less cash to spend at the restaurant, not to mention less time.

When he arrived at the Blue Plate, instead of heading inside to eat, he found himself walking around to the back. To the spot where he’d first seen Angeline reading on the steps back in October. A lifetime ago it seemed. He didn’t know what compelled him to walk back there, but when he did, he found Angeline without a coat, gathering wood from the pile.

“Angel, what are you doing? You’ll freeze to death.” He took the wood from her as she stared at him, her nose red from the cold.

His arm brushed her breast, earning a surprised yelp from her and an instant hard-on from him. Her scent washed over him, feeding his arousal, making him nearly careen out of control.

He leaned toward her, the wood forgotten, the coolness of the air a distant memory. She licked her lips, the nip in the air making them a darker pink. Sam moved as if in a daze, his body buzzing with only one goal.

Kissing Angeline.

His blood thrummed through his body and he swore the air between them crackled as he came within an inch of being pressed up against her. She sucked in a short breath, her blue gaze as wide as the sky above.

Against his will, with his mind screaming for him to stop, Sam leaned forward and kissed her. Oh, God, her lips were
softer than anything he’d ever felt in his life. She tasted of coffee, of woman, of an angel’s sweetness. He brushed her lips again, their breaths mingling in the cold air in a small poof of whiteness.

Sam groaned and stepped back, this time it was his body howling in agony. His cock was hammering against the buttons that held it back.

What the hell had he just done?

Angeline shivered and licked her lips again. “What did you call me?”

Sam stopped, completely flummoxed by her question. He expected her to slap him, kick him in the balls, or at least turn and leave him standing there like the idiot he was. “I don’t know. What did I call you?”

“You called me Angel.” She shook her head slowly. “Believe me, I am no angel, Samuel.”

He needed to apologize, but didn’t know how. Sam wasn’t used to the softer things in life. A warrior at heart, he could hardly bear not taking this woman to his bed. He wanted her with the heat of a thousand suns.

“You look angelic to me. And please, call me Sam.”

Was that the best he could do?
Moron
.

“Don’t let the outside fool you. Nothing about me is angelic.” She backed up toward the stairs and stumbled.

Sam grabbed her by the elbow and she gasped; her gaze again slammed to his. He wanted to gasp too. Touching her sent a jolt through him unequaled in his life. It was as if a bolt of lightning had come down from the clear sky and struck them. Every hair on his body stood on end.

Her mouth opened and she scrambled to her feet, apparently eager to stop touching him. Sam rubbed his hands together to prevent himself from reaching for her again.

He didn’t necessarily believe in the gods or the spiritual teachings of his mother. Yet, the gods in their wisdom had
obviously made this woman to be his other half, his mate. There could be no other explanation.

“I have to get back to work. Marta will be wondering what happened to me.” Her voice was strong, but he heard a slight tremble nonetheless.

“Let me bring in the wood for you.”

She hesitated and Sam didn’t blame her. “All right, come in then, Sam.”

His name on her lips sent a shiver through him that had nothing to do with the cold, and everything to do with the arousal already coursing through him. He filled his arms with wood and stepped into the warm kitchen. Marta stood before the stove, frying bacon. When she spotted him, her brows went up.

“You don’t look much like Daniel.” She chuckled. “Thank you for helping Angeline. I’m not sure where that boy has gotten to.”

Sam put the wood in the bucket beside the stove. “More?” He directed the question to Marta, unable to look at his angel without dropping to his knees to beg for one hour in her bed.

Completely fucking loco.

“Another armful would be perfect. Thank you, Sam.” She winked at him and inclined her head toward Angeline, who was currently scrubbing her hands in the wooden sink.

Sam wanted to press himself against her, feel the softness of her ass as it cradled his hardness. He wanted to cup her breasts and pinch her nipples until they budded beneath his fingers.

If he wasn’t careful he might embarrass himself in front of Marta, and then Pieter would try to kick his ass. Shaking off the urgency of his apparently uncontrollable lust for Ange-line, Sam went back out into the cold. He sucked in a lungful of crisp air, then filled his arms one more time with wood.

This time when he came back in the kitchen, only Marta was there. Disappointment tasted like ash on his tongue.

“Oh, don’t be discouraged, young man. She’s got no family to speak of, except for Lettie, and I think she’s a cousin or an aunt. There’s no one to protect that girl, and I think someone has hurt her already.” Marta shook a wooden spoon at him. “You behave yourself and no more sneaking kisses.”

Unbelievably, Sam’s cheeks heated. “I didn’t sneak.”

“No, but you took without asking. She’s a bit flustered, but lucky for you, not angry. I’d say it’s a good start, even if you did flub the first kiss.” Marta nodded sagely. “Mark my words, she’s never shown a speck of interest in a man before. You, Samuel Carver, are just what she needs.”

Sam grinned at her prediction. If she was right, then he had a chance even if he did make a mistake. However, the kiss itself was no mistake. He’d spend many a moment reliving the feel of her lips against his.

It would only get better from here.

Angeline splashed water on her face and told herself to relax. She could hardly believe she’d stood there and let him kiss her. Not once, but twice.

And she’d enjoyed every second of it.

She gripped the washstand with both hands as the water dripped from her face into the basin. Her entire body trembled with the aftermath of the kisses, but mostly from when he’d touched her. She’d never felt anything like it, even when she’d kissed Jonathan Morton, the man she’d once dreamed of marrying. Her life had taken a right turn since then, and the sweet infatuation she had had with the young man was long gone, destroyed by the secret she now bore: She was a married woman.

Yes, her marriage as third wife to Josiah Brown had crushed every dream she’d ever had, and the horror that followed was worse than any nightmare she could have imagined.
A shudder snaked down her spine as the dark memories crept across her mind. She wanted so badly to forget, to erase the memories of his cold hands and hard fists. She shivered and hugged herself. She could not let the ghosts of her past ruin the present.

Now here she was in a situation she’d never expected, never wanted. She was drawn to Samuel Carver, to his dark visage, his intensity, and even his warm, soft lips. Her body heated all over again and she splashed more water on her face.

She needed to talk to someone who could help her figure out why she had such a strong reaction to a man she barely knew. And especially why she let him kiss her and silently encouraged him to. Her sister, Eliza, would know, but she was off with her man somewhere and couldn’t help.

Angeline dried her face and fixed her hair, tucking the stray strands into the braid hanging down her back. She knew the person she should talk to was Lettie, the only woman who knew what Angeline had gone through, what had sent them both running into the night.

She’d never expected someone like Samuel, nor what his presence did to her equilibrium. What she needed to do now was pretend nothing had happened. That thought made a chuckle burst from her throat—it would be easier to tell the sun not to rise.

The rest of the afternoon passed quickly and Angeline was too busy to think about Samuel, or his kisses. She didn’t catch her breath until nearly eight o’clock, after the supper crowds had finally thinned.

“I’ll be back in a few minutes, child. I need to check to make sure Pieter ate.” Marta left Angeline alone in the kitchen to clean up.

After putting on water to heat so she could finish the dishes, she poked her head out of the kitchen door and waited until Lettie noticed her. Angeline motioned her friend
into the kitchen, eager to talk. She wrung her hands as she paced the kitchen until finally Lettie came in.

“What do you need?” The brunette was a bit abrupt, although never rude. She just didn’t do what she called “wasting time” talking.

“I need to talk to you,” Angeline blurted. “About a man.”

Lettie’s brows went up. “A man? What man?”

“Samuel Carver, the one who gave me the book.” Angeline touched the book, still firmly tucked into her apron. “He kissed me.”

“He did what? Did he force you?” Lettie sounded so fierce, Angeline was nearly afraid for Samuel.

“No, nothing like that. I, uh, I let him kiss me. And, well, I liked it.” Angeline’s cheeks heated as she confessed what was really bothering her. “After Josiah, I didn’t think, I mean, I never thought I’d want someone to kiss me.”

Lettie took her hands. “You are too young to have that monster’s memory on your skin. I’m sorry you had to go through that.”

Angeline managed a shaky smile, although inside she wanted to cry. It hadn’t been her choice, of course. Her father followed the teachings of the church of Latter Day Saints, and she was taught to obey no matter what. She didn’t have the wherewithal to refuse an order to marry a man who had offered for her. She’d always wished she’d had Eliza’s spirit, but instead Angeline had been the obedient daughter, never knowing she would nearly give her life for her obedience.

Eliza had left home with nothing but her courage and her books to follow a hired gun sent by Josiah to track down his runaway wives. Angeline was alive only because of her sister and her amazing bravery. Eliza had stayed with the bounty hunter to ensure Angeline’s survival.

“I’m sorry you did too. That man deserves no woman in his bed.” Angeline’s voice trembled with fury. Although she was terrified of Josiah, if he was there she would strike him
with anything she could lay her hands on. He’d taken away her future, her innocence, and her trust.

“Truer words were never spoken.” Lettie didn’t smile much, which was understandable considering she’d lived under Josiah’s rule for five years.

Angeline’s eyes pricked with tears. “I’m confused, Lettie. I don’t know what to do. The first time I saw Sam, I felt strange, as if it wasn’t really me talking to him. And then today when he kissed me, when he touched my hand, I had never felt such a thing.”