Authors: Siara Brandt
She waited while Jesse brought in a small load of wood and arranged it in the fireplace. He built a small fire and worked at it till he had brought it to a comforting blaze.
“Come on and warm up.” He sat back and held his hands out to the flames for a moment. “I need to see to the horses. When I come back, I’ll haul some water in, heat it over the fire and fill that bucket there so you can wash up.”
The door closed behind him. Already the small room was close to being comfortably warm. But Hetty’s clothes were wet and her sodden skirts were heavy and caked with mud. She felt filthy. She had not changed her clothes in two days. Her leather boots were so stiff she thought they must be frozen to her feet. She still couldn’t feel her toes.
Jesse returned with several buckets of water which he warmed over the fire and then poured into the big wooden bucket in the corner of the shed. He turned his back to the room and again extended his hands to the fire. “Hetty,” he said over his shoulder. “We both need to get out of these wet things. We have some rough travel ahead of us and it’s probably going to get colder. We’ll freeze to death if our clothes are wet. We can hang them up by the fire and let them dry for a couple of hours. You can wash up. There’s even soap.” He held up a thick square of soap. “When you’re done, wrap a blanket around you and climb into bed. I promise there won’t be- ”
“Any fooling?” he heard her ask behind him.
“I promise I won’t touch you in any way.”
He didn’t have anything else to say to her. He busied himself making food while Hetty hesitated for a while and then decided that he was right. She couldn’t stay in soaking wet clothes. And the thought of riding again while she was wet was enough to make her start shivering all over again.
She sat
down to take her boots off. She peeled off her wet stockings. Her body was crying out for warmth. And food. She quickly stripped off her clothes. Then she lathered her body with the bar of soap and rinsed off in the blissfully warm water. She even washed her hair, and felt much better as layers of mud floated away.
“How are you doing?” Jesse asked.
“I’m starting to thaw out.”
“I won’t lie to you,” Jesse said with his back still toward her. “Marsten- Thrall will come after us. He isn’t a man to let it go.”
She thought about that as she dried her hair. She knew Jesse was right.
And Jesse? He tried hard not to imagine her undressed behind him, but he wasn’t having a lot of success.
“This isn’t much of a meal,” he said, trying to distract himself with the food. “But it’s warm. Let me know when you’re- ”
“You can turn around now.”
He did turn around. Slowly. He stared at her unbound hair, burnished to a soft gold in the firelight. She had a blanket around her and her clothes were in a wet pile on the floor. A muscle in his jaw tensed as he forced himself to look away from her.
“This should help warm you up.” He handed her a cup of tea.
“Tea?” she asked, surprised.
“There was a little left in that canister over there. I’ll- uh, get a wash line strung up for our clothes.”
Tea had never tasted so good. Jesse was right. The tea warmed and revived her.
Balancing on one foot and then the other, Jesse pulled his boots off. His coat and hat already hung from pegs on the wall.
“We should have the advantage,” Jesse told her as he began to unbutton his shirt. “This storm should slow them down. We’ve got shelter from the cold for a few hours. We’ll rest here, put on dry clothes and then set out before dawn.
“I know a few hours isn’t nearly enough sleep,” he went on. “But when we get you back safe and sound you can sleep for a week if you want to.”
He opened his shirt, revealing the muscled contours of his chest. Realizing suddenly that she was staring at him, Hetty turned away and looked up at the wall.
“I’ll sleep on the floor,” she heard him say.
Without meaning to, she glanced over to see his bare back and his broad shoulders bronzed in the firelight.
“That’s not necessary,” she said.
“The bed’s too small for both of us.”
“I couldn’t sleep here warm and comfortable while you freeze on the cold hard floor.”
The last thing Jesse needed was to climb into that small bed with her. He was surprised that she even suggested it. No, it was definitely not a good idea.
“I reckon not, Hetty.”
“We slept together last night,” she reminded him.
“That wasn’t the same.”
Surely she could see that it wasn’t the same. Right now she was sitting there wrapped in a blanket with no clothes on beneath it. Hetty was a very beautiful, very desirable woman. A man couldn’t help but stray some in his thoughts. And here he was stripping his own clothes off. Hell, look how many times he had already forgotten himself with her.
“You need rest as much as I do,” she told him. “Maybe moreso since I am depending on you to keep me safe.”
They argued back and forth the whole time he was washing up. In the end, against his better judgment, he laid down on the bed beside her, keeping his own blanket as another barrier between them. A very flimsy one it seemed to him.
“How is your shoulder?” he asked.
“Sore,” she replied. “How did you know I hurt it?”
“I’ve seen you favoring it all day.”
She had hurt her shoulder when the outlaws had first captured her. It hurt every time she moved it.
“Let’s get some sleep,” he said as he frowned up at the ceiling. “Maybe it’ll feel better tomorrow.”
But Jesse was beginning to wonder how sleep was going to be accomplished with Hetty so close beside him.
“What are you thinking?” he heard her ask quietly a little while later.
“That that’s some wind outside. Makes me glad we’re inside.” After a silence, he couldn’t help asking, “What are
you
thinking?” He had been wondering all day. Especially after everything he had told her.
“That this is probably the most improper thing I have ever done,” she said.
Likely it was, he thought. “We haven’t exactly followed all the rules since . . . ” His voice trailed off. He turned his face to look at her. Her hair, nearly dry now, gleamed like copper in the firelight. With an effort he tore his gaze away.
“Since?” she prompted.
“Since that day in the barn.” There. He’d said it right out. The thing they had never spoken of.
“You mean the first time you put your brand on me?”
“Yeah, since then. I’m sorry about that, Hetty.”
“You’re sorry about kissing me?”
No, he’d never be sorry about that. But talking about it was giving him serious doubts about two pathetically-thin blankets between them making a difference. Not when he considered his past history of impulsive behavior.
There was no chance in hell this was going to work. He started to rise, taking his blanket with him. He was going to sleep on the floor, whether she agreed with his decision or not. There was only so much torture he could take.
“Don’t go,” she said quietly. “Stay here with me.” She was staring at his face in the low firelight. “Circumstances sometimes make improper things necessary. You didn’t answer my question,” she said as he settled back down.
“What question?”
“About whether you were sorry for kissing me.”
“I didn’t mean that.”
Well, then, what exactly had he meant? He frowned as he tried to concentrate on the pictures pasted on the wall behind her. There was one of a rejuvenating tonic, guaranteed to put new life into a man. He sure didn’t need any of that. He looked at a picture of a cat looking up into a tree. He liked that one. Cats were safe subjects. Trees were safe.
“What are you sorry for?” she persisted.
Reluctantly, his gaze returned to her face. “About being a little reckless with my branding. And for the things I said at the cabin.”
“Oh. You mean about the fooling.”
“About that, yeah,” he breathed. Then after a pause, while he was still frowning, he said, “I thought you’d be tired by now.”
“I am, but I’m having trouble falling asleep.”
“Try,” he said. He closed his eyes. But after the space of several heartbeats, his eyes shot open again. The woman was
touching
him. She had laid her hand on his bare chest. It felt like a jolt of lightning had gone through his entire body.
“Hetty.” He said gruffly as he reached up to stop her hand.
“You risked your life rescuing me,” she said softly. “It was very noble of you.”
Noble? At the moment it didn’t seem like there was a noble bone in his body.
“The honest truth,” he told her in a low voice. “Is that I don’t always succeed at nobility.”
“I think I’ve seen you succeed a time or two
.”
He was trying like hell to ignore her nearness. But he might as well have tried to stop the rain from falling on the roof. He forced himself to stare at the picture of the cat.
“So everything that I have heard about you is
not
true?” she went on.
“I don’t know all that you have heard.”
“That you were a wolf with women.” She searched the deeply-shadowed planes of his face.
“A wolf, huh? I
suppose that particular rumor would come along as part of the role I was playing.”
“So when you- put your brand on me, it was all because of a role you were playing?”
Saying yes would be lying. Before he could think of an answer, she asked another question.
“And were you playing the same role with your saloon girl?”
“No, Hetty.” His gaze held hers steadily. “That particular rumor was a lie. There never was another woman.”
The back of her fingers feathered lightly along his heated flesh as she thought that over.
He held his breath.
Cat. Focus on the damned cat.
But Hetty’s hand boldly continued its exploration. It moved slowly down the middle of his chest. When her hand reached his belly and the dark line of hair there, his own hand closed around hers again. “Honey, if you keep touching me that way, I’m going to run right out of noble.” His voice was low and husky, sending arrows of heat straight down
her
middle.
Even through two layers of heavy wool blanket, Hetty could feel the heat of his body. It drew her like a magnet.
He had let go of her hand. But in spite of his warning, it was his turn to do some exploring. His fingers trailed along the side of her face. His thumb skimmed lightly across her lips. Her eyes closed at the gentleness of his touch.
“So you’ve been warned,” he whispered.
“What makes you think I want noble at the moment?” she whispered back.
“
I have been known to be a little reckless with my branding where you are concerned,” he reminded her. “And that could get me in some trouble. I’ve been slapped before.”
“I don’t thi
nk you have to worry about that.” She was playing with fire. She knew it. But at the moment she wasn’t afraid of getting burned.
“Then again . . .
” Drawn by the sultry softness of her voice, Jesse had leaned slightly forward. His mouth was hovering close to hers now. “Some things might be worth a slap or two.”
“I think- ”
She didn’t finish what it was that she was about to say. Jesse’s mouth had closed over hers. He was kissing her. Deeply. Thoroughly. When he drew back, his breath was as unsteady as hers.
“Know what
I
think?” he breathed as he pulled her hard against him, molding her body to his. “That all that
fooling
before didn’t come close to being enough.”
He kissed her again till her blood ran hot in response. Her body ached with need and longing. He pulled the blankets free and flesh melded to flesh.
Warmth. Heat. Fire. Jesse’s kisses made Hetty dizzy. She felt the heated trail of his kisses down the side of her neck. She felt the rasp of his beard on the softness of her breasts. His hunger fed her hunger. His need drew out her own need.
Hetty had no intention of stopping him. In fact, she could not get enough of Jesse. It felt right with him. It had always felt right with him. The storm raging outside reminded her of another storm long ago. But it was very tame compared to the one inside. Jesse
was storming her heart. Her very soul.