Without Words (37 page)

Finished at last, he kissed her feet, her calves, behind her knees. His slightly bristly cheek contrasted with the feathery kisses as he moved higher on the sensitive skin of her thigh. She parted her legs, expecting what he had done before. He kissed her once there at her core, his tongue swirling, and she shivered with pleasure.

Not what she expected, as different as the stockings, the skimming kisses moved across her stomach, higher. He cupped a breast with one hand, thumb stroking that nipple while his mouth worked on the other.

His heat enveloped her or maybe only merged with hers until the room lost its chill. Sweat prickled along her spine, and the tiny knot of reservation inside her dissolved in the flood of pleasure. She moaned softly, her teeth in her lower lip.
Mine
, she thought. Her hands fisted in his hair.
Mine.

“I want. I need....”

“Sshh. Sshh.”

Whether he’d understood her or not didn’t matter. She reached for him, barely touched the velvety skin covering the erect shaft when his hands closed over hers.

“Not this time.”

He kissed her palms, each finger, the insides of her wrists. His mouth skimmed her arm to her collarbone. One hand trailed from her breast, across her ribs and stomach to cup her sex. From the heel of his hand to his fingers, his hand rocked, firm, gentle. Her hips responded. One finger pressed deeper, stroked, and electric pleasure jolted through her.

When she recovered, he enclosed her, resting on his forearms over her. “Say ‘more’.”

“More.”

“I understood that.”

She wrapped her legs around his, welcoming the thick, hard heat, waiting for the first thrust. Instead his body surged against her as slow and gentle as his mouth and hands. A sound of wonder escaped her.

Like breathing, like wind on the skin, like the beat of her heart. Her inner muscles squeezed and released. The pleasure intensified until she could not contain it, had to release it outward, be released by it. Her soft husk of a cry died away. He thrust hard half a dozen times and finished, slumping quiet on her until she lost him, and he rolled away.

“Here. Get under.”

He lifted the bedclothes, and she squirmed underneath, feeling the chill of the room now. His body was better than a fire. She snuggled close.

A man could not make love like that to a woman he felt only fondness for. It felt like love. She felt as if she had just been thoroughly loved, was still wrapped in it.

He moved slightly, his voice as soft in its way as his hands had been. “I think this moment right now is worth every day of the years wandering in the wilderness it took to get here.”

Reluctantly, Hassie wriggled away from him and lit the bedside lamp. He lay on his back, one arm over his eyes. How could she talk to him when he did that? His arm rolled a little, eyes gleamed from underneath.

“Is that how you think of it?” she signed.

“I was being poetic, but yes, it got harder every year. I’m glad to be done with it. My only regret is I’ll never again see the look of wonder on your face when you see something like the Missouri River for the first time.”

“There will be other things to wonder at.”

“Without mountains and rivers what will there be?”

She fought the temptation to tell him of the greatest thing they would wonder over.

“There will be Christmas trees.”

C
HRISTMAS DAY DAWNED
bitter cold with an occasional snowflake swirling through the air. So excited she danced like a snowflake on the wind herself, Hassie accompanied Bret to give Gunner breakfast and let him loose for the day. In Philadelphia, Christmas had always been a special day, even after Papa died.

Although none of them had ever heard of a Christmas tree, they had all exchanged small gifts in the Grimes household. At least when Mama was alive they did.

After the first year with Cyrus, when he had still managed to sober up and make it to church most Sundays, she had never been sure which day was Christmas. This year would make up for the ones she had missed. A tree, turkeys, mountains of baked goods, presents, carols, candles. Hassie had great expectations for the day and evening.

And Bret. Having Bret made everything easier. Better. After his love-making last night, she had actually looked at Mary with pity over dinner.

“Maybe we should stay out here a while,” Bret said. “Take Gunner for a walk. Brush the horses up a bit.”

She made as if to punch his arm, and he laughed. He knew she wanted to get back inside and give and get presents as much as the children. They walked back arm in arm.

George and Lottie went through their stockings quickly and tore tissue paper off their other gifts with enthusiasm. They thanked Hassie politely for the wooden toys on wheels she gave them and saved their hugs for the rest of the family. In the past the children’s coolness toward her had stung. Now she accepted it philosophically. Not wanting Will and Mary in her life meant never being close to their children and was a small price to pay.

Early in the morning, Hassie had peeked inside the paper wrapping on each of the scarves from Colorado. Now she handed the one with the lavender scarf to Mary with a smile. From the look on his face, Bret noticed, knew full well she’d done it on purpose, and found it amusing.

Her single gift from the Sterling family was an obvious attempt to bring her up to their standards, but she had to admit the brown dress, trimmed with black, was very stylish and would probably be becoming, even if she didn’t much care for the color.

“There is another part to it,” Mrs. Sterling said. “Leda has already left that in your room so you can wear the dress properly this afternoon.”

A dress improver, a cage for her legs and cushion to make her bottom stick out. Other women managed to sit in such things. Maybe with a little practice before coming downstairs rigged out like that, she could too. If she didn’t fall on her face on the way down the stairs. She thanked them all profusely with gestures and signs Bret interpreted.

Caroline wrapped the soft cloud of her pale blue scarf around her head and left it on. “I’m not part of the dress present,” she said. “That’s from Mother and Mary.”

The surprise on their faces said this was news to Mrs. Sterling and Mary. Caroline grinned, pleased with herself. “This is for you from me,” she said, handing over a small package, “and you will be very impressed because you think I’m useless, but I made it myself.”

The small reticule was brown with black trim to match the dress, but Caroline had marked the gift as her own by embroidering an exotic red rose on each side. Hassie hugged her, kissed her cheek.

B
RET ACCEPTED THE
gloves and stockings he’d paid for from his family with quiet thanks, watched Mary unwrap the light purple scarf with amusement. Another woman would “forget” anything for Mary. Hassie didn’t have that kind of smallness in her.

Given the color of the dress they gave, which in his opinion would rank behind purple for attractive, he suspected the women in his own family did harbor that kind of smallness.

Not his sisters. If Victoria were here, she’d help Caroline try to compensate for the rest of the family, but Vicky was expecting her second child in the spring and wouldn’t be traveling for a while. Not Albert. Albert had been as good-natured and generous as any man ever born. He had none of the discontent and envy that marked Will from childhood.

Even now, when Will had everything he ever coveted, discontent marred his expression more often than not. At least the children’s happiness had banished that look for a while this morning. Will was good with his children.

Hassie had her hand on one last wrapped package. Bret pulled a small box out of his pocket, rose, and moved behind her chair.

“Close your eyes.”

Instead of closing them, she turned and gave him a wondering look.

“Pretend you’re going to shoot me, and close your eyes.”

After a mock glare, she closed her eyes. He removed the ivory comb from the box and pressed it where he thought it belonged in her hair. Her eyes flew open immediately. She reached and pulled the thing right back out to examine it, show to Caroline.

“Oh, look at the carving. It’s so beautiful, and it will look perfect in hair as dark as yours,” Caroline exclaimed.

Taking the comb from Hassie, Caroline skipped to show their mother and Mary. Will waved her off, but she managed to get a grunt of acknowledgment out of their father. Lottie wanted to keep it.

“When your hair is long enough and thick enough to hold a comb like this, you’ll have one,” Caroline told the little girl and brought the comb back to Hassie. “I’ll fix your hair especially for it later,” she said.

Later wasn’t what Bret had in mind when he talked to Mrs. MacGregor about finding the right present. He wanted to see the ivory against the shining black of Hassie’s hair. Was she only going to wear the comb when her hair was fixed especially for it?

Hassie turned the comb over and over, touching and tracing the carved design of flowers and vines. Then she smiled at him and pushed it back where he had first placed it. Caroline was still fussing over a more perfect placement when Hassie jumped up, hugged him, and kissed him. On the mouth. With an intensity that ignored the presence of anyone else in the room.

His father cleared his throat loudly. His mother made vague remarks on the need to put things away. Bret kissed back and forgot about anyone else for long moments.

“Thank you. It is very beautiful,” she signed when they finally parted. “I have this for you.”

The carving on the leather of the knife scabbard resembled that on the comb so closely he wondered about the MacGregors’ part in the purchase.

“Dearfield?”

“Yes. I took your knife to the saddle maker. He measured and made it. He let me pick the pattern to put on. He showed me how to oil it when he was done. Now I know why the MacGregors smiled at each other when they saw it. They knew about the comb too.”

“The scabbard I have is falling apart and never looked this good. Thank you.”

“I have another present for you, but it’s like what Leda left upstairs that goes under the dress, a private thing. Come upstairs with me, and I will tell you.”

Tell him? His idea of the best kind of present would be one she’d show him, not tell him. Curious, he muttered something at his family and followed her from the room.

A
S SOON AS
they were out of the parlor, Bret stopped her and imprisoned her against the wall, an arm on each side of her head. “We can take the dress back next week and get something pretty. Anything would be better than that old lady color.”

Hassie had a feeling the dress had been made originally for an older woman, that it was one of Mrs. Sterling’s made over and there would be no place to take it back to. “It’s fine. It’s very stylish.”

Bret made a disapproving sound and dismissed the subject. You can’t mean you’re going to tell me about my other present. You’re going to show me, right?” He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively. “Does it have to do with laying on of hands and mouth maybe?”

“I will do that too if you like, but the present is because of what we did with hands and mouths and other parts before you were shot. We will have a baby in the summer.”

He jerked upright. “You’re sure?”

“Dr. MacGregor said.”

“He knew, but you didn’t tell me?”

Was he angry? Her heart sank. “He said the beginning is not so certain, better to wait a little longer and be sure, and I didn’t want you to think I told you just to....” Her hands stopped moving.

“Just to what?”

“Make you stay in Colorado.”

“You don’t have that kind of deviousness in you, but you’re right, if you told me, we’d still be there. I can’t believe you didn’t tell me and let me drag you through the foothills in winter like that.”

He wasn’t angry. He was concerned. And pleased. Considering-it-a-gift pleased.

“I am fine.”

“And you’re going to stay fine.” He looked back toward the parlor. “Can I tell them, or do you want to keep it a secret?”

“You can tell.”

“Maybe tomorrow. Or the next day. Just us, for a little while.” He kissed her as gently as the day before. “What about the kind of thing I thought was the second present? What did MacGregor say about that?”

“Fine until the end. He said happy mothers make healthy babies.”

He kissed her again. She wrapped her arms around his neck, raised one leg....

“Damn it, Bret. I have children in this house. For that matter there are ladies. Take her upstairs where that belongs.”

In other circumstances, Will’s contemptuous voice would have had the effect of a dousing in cold water. Today Hassie gave a disgraceful giggle.

Bret scooped her up in his arms. “Right. The bedroom. We belong there, and we’re going there. Right now.”

He had to put her down when they reached the stairs, but that was all right. By that time they were out of sight, and it had been such a grand exit.

G
LOOMY FACES AT
dinner the day after Christmas told Hassie that Bret had gone through with his plan to catch his father alone and turn down the offer of the Abbott land. To her relief, anticipation of an upcoming visit from old friends postponed further attempts to change Bret’s mind or influence her.

Hassie expected to like the Durhams, but Caroline was not happy about the visit. “Everyone wants me to marry Carl Durham, and I’m not going to,” she said, rolling her eyes. “He’s Bret’s age, not half as good looking, and twice as arrogant. I can’t stand him, but he’s a war hero so of course he’s perfect.”

“Choosing a husband who suits you is very important.”

“I guess I can trust you not to talk,” Caroline said, laughing at her own words. “I’ve already chosen who I’m going to marry. He’s only two years older than I am, so he wasn’t even in the war, but his family was Union, so you can guess the chance of anyone in this family approving. As if that isn’t enough, he doesn’t live in a big house in the middle of thousands of acres and order servants around. He works for wages and lives in town.”