She put her arms around his neck and held tight to keep from falling as his hands moved up and down her body with a light touch. He kissed her ear and then her cheek as she shook against him. “It’s all right. Breathe, Maggie. This isn’t going to hurt.”
“I know. I’m just nervous. I’ve never . . .” she managed to say.
“I know, me either. I wish I knew more about how a woman likes to be touched, but somehow I think we’ll find our way.”
He wasn’t holding onto her; she could have stepped away. She’d spent her life stepping away from everyone. Her parents had started the pattern she’d followed all her life. Never get too close to anyone. Never care too much. Never feel too deeply. Her parents, even her teachers, must have thought they were saving her the pain of separating by never allowing her too close.
Sam’s strong hands moved down past her waist and fanned out over her hips as his mouth opened against her throat. The warmth of his tongue circled her skin as his hands began to move up over her back, pressing her closer against him. He wasn’t holding his feelings back and letting her remain safe from being involved. Tears trickled down her cheeks as she let herself drift with the moment and not worry about the pain that would surely come when she was alone again.
Melting against him, she breathed deep as he retraced his journey from her hip to the back of her hair. This time he pulled the tie holding her hair and dug his hands into her wavy curls. “God, I love the feel of you,” he whispered as if to himself and not her. Gently he tugged a handful of her hair, pulling her head up. His warm breath brushed over her cheek a moment before his lips moved over hers. This time the kiss was light, teasing.
She cried out at the pure pleasure of it and heard him laugh softly against her cheek. Then he kissed her again and again, playing with her mouth but never kissing her deeply as he had before.
“I can’t get enough of you,” he whispered against her throat as he tugged a few buttons of her blouse free so he could taste a spot lower on her neck.
When he bit her lightly, she jerked away.
“Did I hurt you?”
“No,” she managed to answer. “Do it again, please.”
He laughed as he kissed her throat. “You’ll never have to beg. I’m happy to do whatever pleases you.”
Then he was kissing her again, and when his mouth journeyed down her throat she felt him loosen another button, pull the material back almost to her shoulder, and taste her once more. This time she made a little sound of pleasure and would have melted to the floor if he hadn’t been holding her.
Finally, he raised his head and held her tightly against his chest. Both their breathing slowly returned to normal. His grip around her relaxed, but his hand still stroked her back. “You all right with this?” he whispered against her hair.
She wasn’t sure what he meant. The kissing, the touching, the feel of his body pressed against hers. “No,” she finally answered and felt him go very still. “I’d like to be kissed the way you kissed me in the kitchen at least once more.”
She felt more than heard his laughter.
“You’re a wonder, my Maggie.” He moved to her mouth and granted her request.
“More,” she whispered when he broke the kiss.
“You’re a pretty demanding wife.” His hand slid past her waist once more to rest on her hip. “I like the feel of you as well as the way you kiss me. I like the softness of your bottom beneath my hand. I like all of you.”
She raised her head and waited to see what would happen next. His features were in the shadows, but she could feel the moonlight on her face, or maybe it was just the warmth of feeling desired for the first time in her life.
“Maggie,” he said as he rubbed his cheek against hers. “I don’t think I’ll ever deny you anything in my power to give. If you want to be kissed all night long, I’ll do my best.”
With that, the conversation was over. He took her mouth with a hunger that surprised her. When she met his passion with her own, she felt him shake as if taken off balance for a moment.
For a while they kissed, sometimes deep, breathless kisses and sometimes light and playful. He couldn’t seem to get enough of the feel of her hair in his hands, and she’d grown used to the rise and fall of his hard chest against her breasts.
She nestled beneath his arms. “Is this how it is between married couples?” she asked.
“Between some,” he answered. “Very few, I think. Maggie, I kissed a few girls when I was more kid than man, but I’ve never touched or kissed anyone like I did you right now.” He laughed against her hair. “If you had any sense, you’d slap me or have the sheriff toss me in jail.”
“I wanted this. I wanted to feel.” She drew in air and added, “I want more.”
He was still for a while. “How much more?”
“Just a little more.”
He lowered his mouth and she welcomed his gentle kiss as she raised her arms and moved her fingers into his midnight hair. One arm held her gently as she relaxed into the warmth spreading through her.
She was lost in the flood of feelings washing over her when he lifted her in his arms and carried her to the bed. Without breaking the kiss, he lowered her on her back and rested his weight beside her.
“How about I just hold you all night?”
She made a sound but wasn’t sure it made any sense. The feel of his long body running along her side warmed her completely.
“Go to sleep, Maggie,” he whispered as he kissed her on the cheek.
She lay awake for a long while knowing he was doing the same. Finally, his breathing grew regular and slow. Rising, she spread a blanket over them both. When she lay back down beside him, he pulled her to him.
Late in the night, when she’d been half sleeping as she drifted between dreams and reality, she felt him move his hand over her body as if even in sleep, he needed to know she was there.
His hand stopped over her breast, cupping it.
She didn’t move.
His fingers tightened slightly, then released her. In a sleepy voice he whispered against her hair. “I wish you were mine. All mine.”
She tried to keep her breathing normal. She fell back asleep wondering if she’d really heard him say the words or if she’d simply dreamed it.
Chapter 10
Sam woke just before dawn. Maggie was curled beside him sound asleep. He smiled as he lifted her off his arm and tucked the blanket around her.
The air seemed bone cold, but any heat from the fire below had traveled up to keep the sleeping quarters above freezing. He checked on Webster curled in one corner of his crib. Sam knew if he was lucky, the boy might sleep another hour. By then he’d have the fires going and the first floor would be comfortable.
He’d just finished washing in the sink when he saw Maggie standing at the archway. Her hair was a mess and her clothes looked like she’d slept in them, which she had. She looked adorable. A few years ago he’d stopped dreaming, but if he still did, Maggie standing in his kitchen just as she was now would be his favorite dream.
“Morning,” he said, watching her rub her eyes.
“Morning,” she answered. “If you can wait a few minutes for breakfast, I’d like to clean up first.”
“All right.” He leaned against the counter and waited.
“Without you watching, if you don’t mind.”
“Oh, of course.” He had no idea where he would go. Three feet of snow blocked both doors and if he went upstairs he’d wake Web.
Finally, Sam decided to turn his rocking chair to the fire and pretend to be reading while she padded around.
First she tiptoed upstairs and brought down a load of her things, then he heard her pouring water in the tub.
Sam closed his eyes and swore. She was taking a bath in his kitchen only a few feet away and there wasn’t even a door between them. Not that he really needed to look, he told himself. He’d imagine how she looked without clothes every time his hands had moved over her body last night. That might not be the same thing as looking, but it was probably as close as he would ever get.
He heard her splashing and decided she was torturing him. If she stayed the whole week he’d be building a door, not to offer her privacy, but to bolt him out.
She must have put on coffee because he could smell it. Maybe she wouldn’t notice if he walked through the kitchen, got a cup, and poured himself coffee. He could even glance at her and apologize saying he’d forgotten she was bathing. That sounded like what married people might do.
Hell,
he almost said aloud. She’d never believe him. Knowing Maggie, the coffeepot would probably dent his skull on his way out. She wanted his kisses, she’d made that plain, but when he’d asked her if she wanted more she’d said
only a little,
as if she always rationed out pleasure. He could almost see her sitting in her tiny apartment above her store eating one biscuit from a decorative tin each night. Two or three would be too many. She could only have a little.
He leaned back in his chair and tried to think of anything else except Maggie nude in his kitchen.
“I’m finished.” She startled him a few minutes later.
Sam opened his eyes. She was wearing some kind of fancy robe the color of a summer blue sky. It had tiny white pearl buttons running all the way down the front. He’d seen them in stores and guessed they cost more than a saddle. Her hair was tied up in a funny knot on top of her head.
“If you don’t mind, I thought I’d dry my hair here by the fire.”
“I don’t mind.”
She handed him a cup of coffee, then pulled a comb from her pocket and set to work on her hair.
“Mind if I watch?” he asked, knowing he’d fail miserably at pretending to read with her right in front of him.
He thought he saw her cheeks blush, but she shook her head slightly.
The house was silent except for the crackling of the fire. All the world outside his home could have vanished and Sam wouldn’t have cared. He’d never thought watching a woman comb her hair would bring him such pleasure. The tangled mess slowly became silk.
“You look content,” he said.
She smiled. “I am, but there is something I’d like to do.”
“Me too,” he answered, thinking his idea probably wasn’t anywhere close to hers.
“I’d like to have a little Christmas here with you and Webster. I could make cookies and a fine dinner. Maybe we could have a small tree and decorate it with ribbons. It would be almost like a real Christmas.”
“Sounds like a good idea. I’ll shovel out enough to get to the barn. There are a few evergreens growing along the fence line of the corral.”
She stood, her hair flowing round her like a beautiful cape. “It’ll be great fun.” She moved beside his chair. “You’re the best almost husband in the world.”
When she leaned to kiss him, he pulled her into his arms. After a light kiss, he whispered against her ear. “I don’t want to startle you, Maggie, but I’d like to touch you if you have no objection.”
She laughed. “You are touching me, Sam.”
Moving his hand over the silk covering her breast, he whispered, “I’d like to touch you here.”
She stilled for a moment.
He feared he’d stepped too far in this game they played. Touching a woman there seemed a very private place. The last thing he wanted to do was frighten her, but how could he explain that the closer they grew, the closer he wanted to be?
He bumped the back of his head against the rocker and swore. “Slap me if you want to, Maggie. I deserve it.”
When she raised her hands to her throat, he knew he’d frightened her.
“Or maybe just shoot me. My brain hasn’t worked right since I put my arm around you for the ride here.” Even now he couldn’t forget how his arm lightly brushed just under her breasts all the way home. He had a feeling he could pour hot lye-soapy water in one ear and let it drain out the other and it still wouldn’t wash his mind clear of her.
An apology was on his lips when she began unbuttoning her robe. “We’ve only a short time before Webster wakes.”
The robe opened an inch, then two as she moved down the buttons. When she’d opened almost to her waist, she leaned back against his arm and closed her eyes.
He couldn’t move. He had trouble believing she was in his arms waiting for him to touch her where he was sure no other man ever had. He’d never touched a woman like this. He’d doctored Danni when she’d come to him that first night bleeding and cut, but there had been no enjoyment in it. To touch Maggie now for no other reason than to give and take pleasure seemed a luxury beyond any he’d known.
Leaning down, he touched his lips to hers, loving the way she smiled before opening her mouth slightly. He straightened and moved his hand down the opening of her robe. Her skin was softer than he’d expected. Slowly, he slipped his fingers over the rise of her breast as he watched her face.
When his hand covered one breast, she arched toward the warmth of it and made a little sound, but she didn’t move away. She was so perfect, he thought. As he gripped her in his hand, he covered her mouth with his and kissed her deeply so the next sound she made was smothered. For a while he was lost in the need to hold her, touch her, taste her. She kissed him back, but she didn’t move otherwise. Her hands remained tightly clasped at her waist.
He raised his head when he finally became aware of her stillness. “Are you all right?” he said, his fingers still caressing her.
“Yes,” she answered, her words unsteady. “Is this thing done between husbands and wives?”
“I think so.” He moved his hand away.
She straightened, sitting up in his lap. “Not in the mornings, I’d think. Otherwise no one would get to work on time.”
He laughed. “So you liked it?”
She began buttoning her robe. “I did. Would you mind doing it again tonight, please?”
“I’d love to, Maggie, if it pleases you.” He loved the honesty of this woman. Kissing her forehead, he added, “It pleased me greatly to touch you so. The softness of—”
“Samuel,” she interrupted. “I don’t think we should speak of such things.”
He smiled. “As long as we do them, I think I can refrain from talking about it.”
“Fair enough,” she said.
When she slipped off his lap, he let his hand move down her back and pat her bottom. “Is it all right to say you’re a beauty, my Maggie? A treasure to hold.” He saw the blush rise in her cheeks.
“I’ll go get dressed now. Promise you won’t come up for five minutes.”
He didn’t trust himself to answer, but he did manage a nod. He was too busy wondering if she blushed all over.
When she came down a few minutes later she had on trousers tucked into boots and a man’s wool shirt, but nothing about her reminded him of a male. She stood on the first step and raised her arms. “How do I look? I’ve never worn trousers, but they seemed appropriate for shoveling snow.”
“It’s still pretty cold out there. We may not get as much snow in the canyon as they do up top, but it is still just as cold.”
“I was planning on my husband helping to warm me up when we’re finished.”
“I can do that, if it’s what you want, but I’ll respect my shy wife’s request and not talk about the details.” He thought it funny that she would do things she couldn’t bring herself to talk about. Most men he knew talked about things they’d probably never do when it came to loving a woman.
She laughed as if she’d read his mind.
He walked to the bottom of the stairs, planning to pull her into his arms, but a pounding on the door stopped him.
No one had ever knocked on his front door. The few who visited him from time to time always came to the back. Sam reached for his rifle and motioned Maggie to go back upstairs. Whoever came knocking on a day like this had to want to see him badly.
He thought she might object to being ordered, but she ran up the stairs. With his hand on the lock, he glanced up to make sure she had vanished.
“Who is it?” he yelled through the solid wood.
“It’s Sheriff Raines. I come out to tell you it’s safe for Miss Allison to come on back to town.”
Sam hesitated. He didn’t want it to be over. For a few moments this morning he’d believed their game could almost be real.
Maggie appeared at the top of the stairs, Webster on her hip as if she’d been carrying the boy since he was born. “Really? We’re no longer in danger?”
She looked so relieved Sam felt bad for wishing she’d stay here longer. He wanted a little more time, but she must be dying to get back to her world.
He threw the bolt, lowered his rifle, and opened the door.
As the sheriff stomped in, Sam asked, “How’d you find me?”
“It wasn’t hard,” the man behind the sheriff answered as he leveled a Colt to Sam’s chest, “but crossing a mile of snow wasn’t easy.”
Sam glared into the cold eyes of Boss Adler. He knew he’d never get his rifle up in time to fire before Adler killed him, but if he’d been alone, he might have tried. He was a dead man either way. All he could hope for was to buy enough time to let Maggie get away. Out of the corner of his vision he could see the empty balcony and guessed she’d slipped back before either of the men entering had a chance to see her.
Take the passage!
he screamed inside.
Take the passage
.
The sheriff drew his attention. “Sorry about this, Sam, but Adler offered me enough money to retire in style. I don’t have to kill anyone, all I have to do is look the other way.”
Sam took a step backward. Icy wind blew into the house, but he couldn’t feel it. There was no room in his mind for anything but fear for Maggie and his son. He had to give them time. Every second he could slow Adler down increased her chances. “How’d you find me?” he asked again.
Sheriff Raines laughed. “It took me a while to figure it out. Adler and his men were in town to case the bank. I didn’t see any harm in helping them. After all, they wouldn’t be robbing it until after I retired. But then it got messy when they decided to rob the mercantile. I planned to run in and fire a few shots while they rode away with the money, but you got in the way.”
Sam saw the whole picture. “Then you decided to make sure we were hid away before you turned us over to Adler. That way there would be no killing of witnesses in town, right?”
“Something like that,” the sheriff said. “Only you wouldn’t tell me where you lived. I was about to lose a good deal of money before I remembered a few years back when you stole old man Dolton’s daughter. I figured he knew where you lived and would be more than happy to tell me.”
Sam took another step back, but Adler advanced like a cat playing with a mouse.
“So why weren’t you here the first night?”
Raines frowned. “Strange, but it seems Dolton, much as he hated you, didn’t seem willing to tell us. We had to wait around until his sons rode out. The big one headed into town to drink, and who knows where the kid went. We just waited until they were out of sight before we rode in to talk to Dolton. Adler had to carve on the old man several times before he started talking. He seemed more afraid of your kin than the knife. By the time he’d told us all we wanted to know, he’d bled out. I guess that makes his killing an accident. You can thank him and this storm that you lived one more day.”