The Longing (16 page)

“And I’m going to restore the bar and tear up
that scum-covered floor. I’m putting down oak and replacing the
booze-splattered wallpaper. I guarantee you, Kyle, my bar won’t
stink like piss when I open it back up. And I
will
open
those damn doors. Soon!”

“Good. You can buy me an ale and I’ll help
you celebrate your grand opening.”

Boyd swung toward Kyle, his face red. “How
the hell do you do this to me?” He jammed his hands in his pockets,
his glare filled with disgust.

Kyle just smiled. “I think this is the part
where you say you’ll help me, then reveal all your seduction
secrets.”

Boyd glared at Kyle another moment, then
shook his head. “You’re going to owe me for this.”

“I know.”

“All right, goddammit, I’ll stay for a while.
But not forever, Kyle. You’d better live up to your part of the
deal when I’m ready to go.”

“I will.”

“And you’d better wake up and realize there’s
more to life than this mill. You’ve got to stop living for this
place. Take Amelia on a honeymoon or something.”

“She’s in mourning and I can’t leave the mill
right now. You know that.”

“Then
pretend
you’re on your
honeymoon. Pay attention to her. Go home early and drag her into
bed. Tell her you’ve been dreaming about her all day.”

“Are you insane? I’m on the verge of
bankruptcy. I don’t have time to think about her.” In fact, he
didn’t
want
to think about her. He wanted a simple,
unassuming relationship, like the one he’d had with Catherine.

Boyd shook his head. “You’re dense as hell at
times.”

“I’m not going to lie to my wife just to get
her into bed.”

“You don’t have to. Just flirt with her.
Tease Amelia about distracting you, and don’t try telling me she
isn’t because you were so wrapped up in your thoughts a few minutes
ago that you didn’t even hear me talking to you.”

“All right, Romeo. Fine. I was thinking about
my wife. So what? Is this the extent of your worldly advice?”

“Walk around the house with your shirt off.
It drives a woman crazy to see a man’s bare chest.”

Kyle laughed. He couldn’t help himself. The
idea of his bare skin exciting Amelia was absurd.

“It does,” Boyd insisted. “But it really
makes them sweat when you open your pants. Don’t take them off,
just let them fall open.”

“What?” Kyle stared at his brother.

“Touch her as often as you can. Stroke her
back when she passes by. Kiss her neck just below the ear. Women
love their necks kissed. But whatever you do, do
not
kiss
her on the mouth.”

“You’re out of your mind.”

Boyd shrugged as if he were simply stating a
fact that Kyle should know. “It diffuses the tension if you kiss
her. You’ve got to tease Amelia, make her
want
to kiss
you, but don’t give in to her. It’ll drive her crazy and before you
know it, she’ll beg you to do it.”

Kyle folded his arms across his chest feeling
it spasm from silent laughter. This was really too much, but it was
entertaining to hear Boyd’s warped sense of romance. “Anything
else, Romeo?”

“Rub her feet.”

“What the hell do her feet have to do with
what I’m after?”

Boyd grinned. “Trust me, if you can get a
hold of her feet, you’re more than halfway to the bedroom.”

Kyle didn’t believe a single word of it, but
it felt so good to laugh at his miserable life, he could have
hugged his brother right in the middle of the lumberyard.

He wasn’t about to tempt fate by playing with
Amelia’s feet, but liked the idea of making her burn for him,
making her long to consummate their marriage as desperately as he
wanted to.

If he could just keep himself under control
long enough to calm her fears, they might find a satisfying
relationship in bed. But therein lay the problem. Kyle felt too
reckless, too desperate to be reined by logic or compassion. No
matter how considerate he wanted to be, he feared the instant he
touched Amelia, his lust would trample his good intentions.

o0o

Amelia surveyed the buildings at her father’s
lumberyard with new purpose, knowing this would be the best place
to win her husband’s heart. She would become his partner, his right
arm, his confidante.
Then
his lover.

Several hundred feet across the yard, an
immense, unpainted barn staked its claim on dry, rutted ground.
Golden hay spilled out of the second story loft and sprinkled the
ground in front of huge double doors. To her right, two long,
single-story buildings sat parallel to each other, one of which
housed her father’s crew of ten men. The other contained the mess
hall and an open area in the back of the building that her father
had been converting to his new office. Knowing he would never
experience the pleasure of working in it filled Amelia’s throat
with grief, but she turned away, reminding herself to keep a clear
mind and steady nerves. She needed to remember every word her
father ever told her about operating the mill, because she had no
actual experience that she could use to prove herself to Kyle. She
would just have to bluff her way and pray Kyle didn’t catch on.

The instant Amelia stepped inside the mill
building, she slapped her hands over her ears to cut the noise of
the screaming blades. Lord, she’d forgotten how deafening it was
out here.

Several feet away Kyle was talking with Jeb,
dwarfing the mill foreman with his superior height and wide
shoulders. Though Jeb’s medium build and kind, dark features made
him passably handsome for a man her mother's age, he paled next to
Kyle.

The instant Kyle spotted Amelia, his eyebrows
lifted. He glanced at Jeb who shrugged and shook his head as if to
say he had no idea why she was trespassing in a man’s world.

Amelia tried to smile, but Kyle’s displeasure
was evident in the lowering of his brows, making her question her
decision to come.

Kyle sliced his hand across his throat,
eliciting a return hand signal from Ray Hawkins, the head sawyer. A
moment later, the blades stopped screaming and the mill quieted to
a low growl as Amelia approached her frowning husband.

“Is something the matter?” he asked.

She shook her head, her stomach queasy. “I’m
here to help you.”

His eyes widened and he glanced at Jeb as if
to ask what she was talking about.

Though she’d expected Kyle’s reaction, it
still insulted her. “I spent nine summers traipsing through this
mill with my father, Kyle. I’m capable of helping here. I happen to
know a good deal about our operation,” Amelia said, directing her
statement to both men staring at her. She pointed to the iron
platform of the sawmill that held a partially cut log. “That piece
of timber is shuttled back and forth by the metal table beneath it.
It’s called a carriage, Kyle.” She pointed at the heavy iron frame
holding the upper circular saw. “We have a Top Rig mill with dual
saws that cuts six thousand board feet a day. If Ray talks real
sweet to her, she can put out eight thousand feet, or at least
that’s what he’s always told Papa.”

Hearing his name, the sawyer puffed out his
thin chest. “Well, sometimes a lady needs a bit of encouragement to
respond. Don’t she, Jeb?”

Jeb frowned, but Kyle’s gaze swung to Amelia.
Heat exploded in her cheeks and she averted her face, knowing he
must be wondering how much encouragement it was going to take to
get his wife to perform her duty.

“Amelia,” he said, his voice condescending
enough to set her teeth on edge, “I appreciate your offer, but this
isn’t a place for a woman.”

Unable to look at him and speak coherently,
Amelia eyed the mill. “Do you know why we use two blades, Kyle?”
She strode toward the mill and turned to face him. “The lower one
does the hog work and the upper blade speeds the cutting so we can
get more output per day.”

He sighed and propped his hands on his
hips.

She ignored his obvious irritation and
pointed to a huge iron bar that revolved when Ray moved the
carriage. “That mandrel is driven by a leather belt and pulley
contraption. When Ray gigs back, that log will move—”

“Amelia! For God’s sake, I don’t care how
much you know about the mill, this is no place for a lady and
you’ll not convince me otherwise.”

Her heart sank. The outraged expression on
his face spoke volumes. He was going to send her home before she’d
even had a chance to prove herself helpful to him. Knowing she had
lost her one and only chance to win his respect, Amelia slumped
against the cast-iron frame. Her shoulder bumped a lever and the
sawmill jerked violently to life. The hum and wind from the saws
blasted her ears as Kyle leapt forward and grabbed her arms. She
felt a hard tug on her waist and heard a horrendous tearing of
fabric as he hauled her away from the mill. By the time Ray slapped
the lever in place, and Kyle had her back on her feet, Amelia's
lower half was clothed only in her muslin underskirt. And her heart
was pounding so hard it made her light-headed.

“What the hell are you doing?” Kyle asked,
fear making his voice raspy and harsh.

Burning with embarrassment and scared within
an inch of her life, Amelia yanked her shredded skirt from the
mill. Cursing herself for being careless, she wrapped the ragged
scrap around her waist.

“Are you all right?”

“Of course I am,” she snapped, her
frustration so extreme she wanted to rip her skirt to shreds. This
was the first breath of freedom she’d had since escaping the
apartment she’d been imprisoned in for the past four years. The
only difference between her lonely schoolroom and her lonely house
was the amount of space for her to pace in. She couldn’t bear to
trade one prison for another. She had to stay! It was the only way
to show Kyle that she could be of some value instead of just a
burden he’d acquired. She wanted his respect, dammit!

“Before you lose any more of your wardrobe,
I’m going to have Jeb take you home.”

Her chin shot up and she faced her husband.
If he was going to end up hating her anyhow, why hold back? Why go
on pretending to be the docile little mouse she’d been forced to
portray to keep her teaching position? If she was going to face a
lifetime without his love and respect, then she was damned sure
going to insist on the freedom to be herself. At least she would be
happy.

“I don’t mean to disrespect you, Kyle, but
the only reason I’m going to go home is to change my clothes.”

“It’s unsafe here, Amelia. I don’t want you
anywhere near the lumberyard.”

She propped her hands on her hips, ready to
do battle if that was what it took to break the links chaining her.
“Then I guess we are about to have our first marital argument,
because I’m coming back.”

She expected Kyle to rail at her, to command
her to leave the business side of their union to him, but a spark
of appreciation flared in his eyes before he turned and ordered Jeb
to take her home.

Amelia
returned to the mill garbed in one of Kyle’s old shirts and a pair
of trousers she’d borrowed from Evelyn, who wore a pair just like
it while grooming horses in her livery. Amelia had visited her to
get some much-needed advice.

The lumberyard thundered with activity.
Horses strained at harnesses, pulling hard on drags of timber. Men
with rolled shirtsleeves stacked wood on pallets and tossed scrap
onto piles that fed the boiler. Saw blades screamed inside the mill
and the smell of roasting beef drifted out the door of the mess
hall.

Amelia strode across the yard and seven
startled men gawked at her from disbelieving faces. All activity
screeched to a halt. They yanked their hats off, stuffed them back
on their heads, then hauled them off again, obviously unsure of how
to greet a woman in men’s clothing. Some nodded, some tried to
mumble with jaws still hanging open, others respectfully dropped
their gazes and shuffled their feet, but it was Kyle’s stunned
expression that made Amelia’s steps falter.

He stood openmouthed beside a team of
thick-bodied Percheron horses he’d been using to move a drag of
timber to the mill building. The horses snorted and tossed their
heads, but Kyle ignored them, his gaze locked on Amelia as he
inspected her from her hot cheeks to her boot-covered feet.

His expression said he was going to kill
her.

He lowered his hands and strode purposefully
toward her, stopping only inches away. “What in God’s name are you
doing?”

Despite her nerves, Amelia lifted her chin,
trying to pretend she wasn’t cowed by his dark scowl. “I told you I
was coming back after I changed my clothes.”

Kyle put his back to the men and lowered his
voice. “You can’t be here, or
anywhere
, dressed like that.
Where the devil did you get that outfit?”

His shirt was huge on her, but unfortunately,
Evelyn was thinner than Amelia and the pants were admittedly snug.
Still, Amelia kept her jaw clamped shut, afraid Kyle would berate
Evelyn for giving them to her.

“Most of these men aren’t married,
Amelia.”

“What does that have to do with my
clothes?”

His eyebrows shot up. “Have you looked in a
mirror?”

“Of course not. I barely took time to change
before hurrying back here.”

“Well, you should have because you’d be as
shocked as I am.”

“I’ll only wear my britches at the mill.”

“No, you will not. You’re distracting the
men.”

She glanced at their crew. They all ducked
their heads and pretended to be working, but she knew they had been
watching. “Kyle, I can’t wear a dress for safety reasons.”

“This
outfit
is a safety issue for
the men!” he said, gesturing toward her pants.

“Nonsense. They’re just surprised, but
they’ll get used to it. Besides, I can’t concentrate on my work if
I’m preoccupied with catching my skirt in something.”