Authors: Sylvia McDaniel
“Wade, something’s on fire,” Rachel said as she hurried around the wagon, her wrapper, tied securely around her waist.
Leaning back against the wagon, Wade looked down at her. He drew a deeply on his cigar and blew the smoke away from her.
“Oh, you’re smoking that…”
“Cigar, cheroot or cigarette,” he supplied coolly. The breeze lifted a corner of her wrapper exposing her night rail beneath, twisting tendrils of silky brown hair around her face.
“Whatever. It smells disgusting,” Rachel announced.
“I really don’t care. It’s about to rain, and I’m not going to let a good cigar go to waste, so I’m finishing it off.”
Rachel glanced up at the sky. Her manner changed abruptly to one of concern. “Are the children going to be okay, sleeping in the tent?”
“I’ve already checked. The ties are secure. Unless we have a real blower, they should be fine.”
With a worried frown, she strode over to the tent to listen for the children. “They’re asleep.”
Wade took a deep drag on the cigar and almost choked when she turned around to face him. The glow of the fire shone through her wrapper, hiding nothing from his overactive imagination as she walked toward him.
He nodded, trying to still his rapidly beating heart and the throb between his legs. “So why are you still awake?”
“I couldn’t sleep. The wagon seemed stuffy,” she admitted. A big clap of thunder sent her flying to Wade’s side. He tossed his cigar into the fire and opened his arms automatically, enfolding her in his embrace.
She glanced up at him, her hazel eyes pleading. “I’m sorry. I’ve never liked thunderstorms. They frighten me.”
“Storms aren’t so bad once you understand them,” he said, holding her shivering body against his. “My sister, Sarah, used to scream and cry during storms until I explained to her that God was watering his garden, and every time it thundered, he’d turned over his potato wagon.”
Rachel smiled. “How did you explain the lightening?”
“I told her he needed the lightening to see the earth.”
“What a silly tale to tell a child,” Rachel admonished, but she didn’t move from his arms.
He hadn’t meant to tell her, but whenever he was with Rachel, his guard crumbled. Wade shrugged. “Well, at least while I was telling her a story, she wasn’t crying.”
“I’d like to meet your sister some time,” she said.
Wade sighed. “I’d like for you to meet her to, but that’s not possible.”
Rachel looked puzzled. “Why?”
Wade couldn’t say the words. Even after all these years it was much too complicated, and he didn’t want to explain to Rachel what had happened to Sarah.
Instead, he placed his hands on her shoulders. His gaze grazed her breasts, sending a shiver of desire through him. “I think it’s time you crawled back inside that wagon. It’s going to start pouring any moment now.”
Rachel looked perplexed. “What are you going to do?”
He could see the confusion in her eyes and knew she was wondering why he hadn’t answered her question. But for now, the bewilderment would have to remain. Talking about Sarah and Michael would bring up more questions, more speculation about his family life, and he didn’t need that tonight. He didn’t want to tell her things he’d kept sheltered from himself and others too long.
“I’ll stay out here and try to keep the horses calm. Hopefully, I’ll manage to keep dry under the wagon,” he said, watching her lower lip, wanting to run his tongue across the smooth texture.
She tilted her head to the side as she glanced up at him. “Wade Ketchum, if that storm comes like I think its going to, there won’t be a dry spot left under this wagon. You’ll catch your death of a cold if you stay outside tonight.”
Wade grinned. How would she react if he told her there would be no sleep if he stayed beside her in the wagon tonight? How would the proper miss respond when he told her he was hard enough to split his pants?
“That’s twice you’ve expressed concern about my well-being. If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were beginning to like me.”
She stiffened in his arms, and instinctively Wade knew if there was enough light, he would see a blush staining her cheeks.
“Of course I like you, Wade. I just don’t always agree with what you do,” Rachel said, annoyance filling her voice. “Like drinking, cursing—”
Wade put his mouth to hers, effectively shutting her up. But the trick backfired on him when she wrapped her arms around him and pulled him deeper into the kiss.
For a moment, he was stunned at her response. But then he eagerly deepened the kiss, pulling her against his rigid manhood. She moaned, and he traced the edge of her lips with his tongue as he suckled her mouth in a craving gesture, wanting to absorb her into his body like a man dying of thirst.
And surely he was dying as she returned his kiss, shocking him as he consumed her lips, not wanting to think about the consequences of his actions or what tomorrow would bring.
Her skin felt like silk as he held her face, refusing to let her go. Lightning flashed around them. Thunder rumbled closer. The wind whipped Rachel’s wrapper around their legs, entwining it about him like a lover.
Sprinkles of rain began to pelt them softly. Wade moved his hands down her back and across her buttocks, pressing her ever closer, wanting to rip away the nightgown that acted as a barrier to his touch. He wanted to feel every naked inch of her. He wanted to gaze upon her flesh.
They kissed for minutes, but it seemed like hours, trying to express with their bodies what neither could say with words. With a thundering roar, the rain came pounding its vengeance, cooling their embrace, but not his desire. It was a wonder the raindrops didn’t sizzle off his skin.
Reluctantly, Wade let Rachel go. When he opened his eyes to gaze into hers, he saw fear and bewilderment and didn’t know if the thunderstorm or his kiss had caused her apprehension.
With a tug, he pulled her toward the back of the wagon. “Come on. You’re getting soaked.”
Water ran down her face, her neck, and when his eyes wandered lower, he gasped. The wrapper clung to Rachel’s body like a wet sheet, showing off each tempting curve she tried so hard to hide. The sight was like a blow to his midsection, leaving him aching.
At the back of the wagon, he turned her to face him. His gaze took in her full breasts and small waist. Her nipples stood out against the soaked fabric, taunting him.
“Get in out of the rain,” he commanded.
She frowned. “What about you?”
“I’ll be okay. You’re soaked. Get in.”
Her hazel eyes were dark with worry, and she raised her mouth to his. He moaned like a man drowning and tasted her wet lips, licking away the rainwater that streamed over both of them. He knew without a doubt that if he didn’t break off the kiss now, he never would.
Reluctantly, he broke away. He reached down and in one motion, lifted Rachel into the wagon. Then he turned and walked away, knowing if he looked back and saw her face, there would be no turning back.
Chapter Eleven
T
he noise of people stirring outside woke Rachel, though the inside of the wagon remained dark. She stretched and yawned, the chill of the morning air caressing her arms, sending her scurrying back under the covers. The mountain nights were cold, and she wondered how Wade had faired beneath the wagon in last night’s storm.
Memories of the previous evening assailed her, leaving her shaken. She’d kissed him. Reached up and planted her lips on his like some wanton hussy clamoring for his attention. But she had no feelings of shame this morning, only a sweet yearning.
When he’d kissed her back, she’d wrapped her arms around him, hungrily accepting his embrace. Although the rain had dampened their ardor, the longing had persisted, leaving her wanting and reeling with passionate intensity. How much longer could she fight this temptation? How much longer could she pretend to be his wife and not allow herself the intimacies of marriage?
The mention of Wade’s name made her skin tingle with anticipation, with reckless abandon. She wanted Wade to do more than kiss her, to do more than touch her. She wanted him the way Eve had wanted Adam, the way Rebecca had wanted Isaac.
Yet fear held her back. Just as Wade was holding back. She could feel it, could see it in his eyes. He was afraid of any lasting commitment and the apprehension had something to do with his childhood.
But what could have happened to cause him to dam up his emotions behind a barrier?
For her to understand Wade, she had to know all of him. Because, when he left, she wanted no regrets, no doubts about the kind of man who had broken her heart. And he would leave her. Her time with Wade was but a brief trip across the country, just long enough to find out he filled some need she hadn’t even known existed. Just long enough to fill her hollows and make her realize what she was missing.
Rachel sighed. She’d left Tennessee believing she was a self-sufficient woman. With the subsequent death of her father, every day on the trail made her realize how dependant she really was on her fellow travelers. How much she needed a strong man beside her. How much she wanted that man to be Wade.
The girl who’d left Tennessee had been filled with dreams of a different life. The woman who traveled the trail had endured great hardships and losses, and now prayed she’d reach its conclusion without further heartache.
But she would have to be on guard against falling in love with Wade because he would break her heart into little pieces and leave her behind to put it back together without him.
The thought chilled her deeper than the early morning cold.
Though the sun was only a thought in the eastern sky, she jumped out of bed and hurriedly dressed.
As Rachel crawled out of the wagon, the sight that met her eyes left her gasping. Wade stood before a mirror hung on the side of their wagon, wearing nothing but his pants in the cool morning air. With long slow strokes, he scrapped the whiskers from his soap-lathered face. The muscles in his back flexed with each movement of his hand, creating a ripple of his naked, bronze flesh.
Her breathing quickened, and her knees turned to mush as she gazed with longing at his muscular profile. The smooth texture of his skin made her want to trace each muscle with the tip of her finger, to touch her lips to the back of his neck. Rachel shook her head, trying to clear her wicked thoughts. Why did he always affect her this way?
Hurriedly, she brushed past him, picking up her milking stool and pail as she scurried off to the livestock.
“Good morning, Rachel.” he called. “Sleep well?”
“Like a lamb,” she said as she walked away quickly, afraid her face would reveal the dreams that had plagued her all night long, dreams of Wade naked in her arms.
The cow they’d picked up along the way greeted her with a long moo of welcome. The poor animal was thin from the weary days on the trail. Rachel quickly milked her, relieving her swollen udder. Steam rose from the warm milk, tantalizing Rachel with its smell.
Finished with her task, she hastened back to the wagon to begin breakfast, the dew-dampened grass moistening the hem of her dress. As she stepped around the side of the wagon, Wade’s arms reached out to encircle her, surprising her so she almost dropped the pail of milk.
“Is this how a milkmaid looks early in the morning?” he asked, teasing, as he planted kisses along the nape of her neck, sending delicious tingles down her spine. God, in her dreams his lips had followed the same path. And her body had responded in much the same way, as if aching to get closer to him.
Pushing back with her free hand, Rachel glanced up at the forest green eyes dancing with merriment. She felt awkward in his arms, frightened not of Wade, but of herself.
“Wade, someone might see,” she protested.
“What will they see?” he questioned, his voice low and seductive. “My arms around my wife? Me kissing her good morning?” he added as his lips lowered onto hers.
Rachel felt the familiar curl of some unknown feeling in the pit of her stomach. Her stiff body relaxed and softened in his arms. His lips gently coaxed hers until she longed for this feeling to last forever. She yearned to forget about the dangers of the trail ahead, to forget about the children. To allow her desire to take root and grow within her until she reached some unknown destination yet to be explored.
Wade ended the kiss and gazed down at Rachel, his eyes smoldering in the morning light. She didn’t know what to do. In the moonlight, and even last night in the rain when he’d kissed her, she hadn’t felt clumsy, unsure.
But now, in the dawning sunlight, she felt awkward, uncertain how to face Wade and accept the fact that no matter how much she fought him, being in his arms felt right. No matter what happened, she wanted him to kiss her.
The feelings were too new to be shared with anyone, particularly Wade, and Rachel did the only thing she knew how to do. She pulled away and fled. “Excuse me. I must get breakfast started.”
* * *
The small group of people gathered in a semicircle while Ethan read a verse from the Bible and said a quick prayer over the grave of Mrs. Perkins. An ordinary cold that would normally have ended with a week of bed rest had lingered on, draining her strength until, sometime during the night she had succumbed to the Grim Reaper.