His Brother's Wife (18 page)

They talked for long
minutes, the bell over the door tinkling numerous times as Holden
gave her the name of every unmarried man in town, one of them
turning away from the counter as they spoke. Holden said his name,
motioned him over and Grace could only stare.

The man crossed the room
and stopped a few feet away. He was tall with a head full of hair
in serious need of barbering. The strands hung past his shoulders
and obscured most of his face. His clothes were decent, black
gloves covered his hands, but it was the grizzled beard hiding the
majority of his face that caught her attention. She could see a
nasty looking scar near his eye, the white jagged line disappearing
into his beard. When he caught her staring, he tilted his head, all
that hair falling to hide the side of his face.

"Noah Lloyd, I'd like to
introduce you to Ms. Grace Kingston." Holden glanced her way
again.

Grace smiled in greeting.
"It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Mr. Lloyd."

He didn't reply. He stared
at her for a few moments before turning his attention back to
Holden and raising one eyebrow.

"Ms. Kingston is looking
for a husband," Holden told him. "Seems she's ran into a bit of
trouble with the one she came out here for."

"I don't want a wife."
Noah Lloyd had the voice of a man who didn't speak much. The sound
was harsh and scratchy. He also lacked in social skills. He turned,
making his way back to the counter without another word.

Grace stared at his
retreating back before shaking her head. "He's not a friendly sort,
is he?"

Holden grinned. "He's a
good man. Life's just weighed him down since the war.

"I see." Grace watched him
pick up a box Mrs. Jenkins set on the counter and leave the store.
Unmarried or not, she couldn't make a man marry her, regardless of
how obvious it was he needed a wife. She turned her attention back
to Holden when he began talking again.

By the time Grace had
decided to wait for the new doctor Holden mentioned was to arrive
soon, she was grabbed around the waist, turned, and hauled over
someone’s shoulder so fast, she could do nothing but hang there,
upside-down, and try to catch her breath.

When she realized it was
Rafe’s shoulder she was flung over, her anger returned. “Rafe
Samuels, you put me down this instant!”

Chapter
Seventeen

Rafe did as she requested
by plopping her onto the seat of the wagon. He climbed in behind
her and grabbed the reins, flicking them to get the mule moving and
was headed out of town by the time Grace had even caught her
breath.

The road was unbearable to
ride on at a slow pace with its ruts and washed out holes but at
the speed Rafe was going, Grace was being bounced from one end of
the seat to the other. She grabbed onto the side rail and braced
her feet on the foot board in front of her. “Rafe, slow down! What
in the world is wrong with you?”

He said nothing, just kept
flicking those reins and causing the mule to go faster. She glanced
over at him. His face was a hard mask of stone. His jaw was
clenched, his eyes narrowed and the longer the wagon bounded over
the road, the angrier Grace got. “Rafe Samuels, stop this wagon
this very instant!” He said nothing, just flicked the reins again.
Grace huffed out a frustrated breath. “This is ridiculous, Rafe.
Stop the wagon and tell me what is wrong.” Again, silence. “Fine.
If you won’t stop, then I’ll get out myself.”

Grace stood, holding on to
the side rail. Rafe grabbed her around the waist an instant later
and pulled her to him. She gasped, landing sprawled across his lap,
his arm banded around her waist.

The wagon turned then,
heading off the road and toward a copse of trees in the distance.
When they were sheltered under the shadowy canopy, the wagon
stopped.

One moment Grace was
wondering what was happening, the next, Rafe was kissing her. She
sat rigidly in his lap, pushing at his shoulders with her hands but
his arms held her in place, his mouth working hard and demanding
against her own.

Her body relaxed by
degrees until her bones felt insubstantial. When his tongue pushed
inside her mouth, she moaned and sank against him, wrapped her arms
around his neck and kissed him back.

She was aware of his hand
on her leg, his fingers tickling a path up her thigh, and did
little to stop him. The drawstring on her underwear was untied and
she gasped, shocked, when his hand plunged into her drawers,
finding her most sheltered secrets. “Rafe!”

He kissed her again,
halting her protests, his fingers working inside her slick folds
and stars flashed behind her eyelids. Her body felt languid as
tingles started racing up her spine. She clung to him, her breasts
aching and the mass of nerves he was manipulating with the tip of
his finger felt ready to burst. She arched her hips, tilting them
upwards toward his hand and moaned into his mouth, sweat breaking
out across her skin until she felt feverish.

His tongue inside her
mouth thrust with an intensity that caused her to cling to him
tighter. He dipped and plunged, swept it across her teeth before
devouring her slowly as his fingers continued to torture her. Her
legs started shaking as the tingles increased, heat burning in her
belly before it seemed to burst in one soul-shattering
moment.

The world came undone. She
screamed as shards of light exploded behind her eyelids. Her body
convulsed, Rafe’s deft fingers playing her like an instrument until
she was left trembling and panting for breath.

He cupped her between the
legs when she stilled, moving the heel of his hand in a slow
grinding movement that sent aftershocks riding every nerve ending
in her body. When at last the tremors subsided, Grace cracked open
her eyes.

Her head was pillowed on
his shoulder, her fingers clenched in the fabric of his shirt. He
was kissing a slow path over her face, his breathing as ragged as
her own. When the feeling returned to her body, and Grace's spine
felt solid again, she raised her head.

His hand between her legs
stilled. Lust burned brightly in his eyes and she felt the evidence
of it against her bottom. He was hard and thick, a slight movement
on her part making it more apparent.

“Stop moving,” he said,
closing his eyes while a strained note in his voice made the
command sound rough.

She did. Willed her body
to stillness and sat staring at him. When he opened his eyes, he
removed his hand from her drawers and out from under her skirts.
She said nothing, just sat there staring at him.

When his breathing
returned to normal, he kissed her again. A soft brush of his lips
against her own before he deepened it. Grace returned it, her bones
once again felt as if they were melting before he pulled away. She
didn’t mistake the fire in his eyes when she looked at
him.

His voice was pitched
dangerously low as his hold on her tightened. “The next time you
think to find a husband in town, woman, I’ll take you over my knee
and I can promise you it won’t be as pleasant as it was this
time.”

Grace blinked.
What?

“Holden Avery might know
every man in town, Grace, but I’ll be damned if I let that man pick
a husband for you. Stay away from him.”

She sat silent for long
minutes, letting his words play over again in her mind.

Sitting up, she pushed
away from him. He didn’t relax his hold or let her move very far.
“And what exactly makes you think I'd let Holden Avery pick a
husband for me?”

He grinned but it came off
more as a showing of teeth. More feral looking than an actual
smile. “Morgan told me you were asking about the unmarried men in
town.”

"So?"

“So, if anyone is going to
marry you, Grace, it’s going to be me.”

Grace stared at him,
dumbfounded. He was going to marry her? She pushed away further and
scowled. “Marry me?" She scoffed. "Only yesterday you told me it
would never happen. Besides, I don’t remembering saying I’d marry
you, Rafe, so don’t go presuming I will.”

He flashed his teeth again
in a mock smile. “You already said you'd thought about it. Besides,
if that kiss you gave me the other night was any indication, I’d
say you'd agree to it without much hesitation.”

Oh, she remembered the
kiss all right and her anger returned hot and aching in her chest.
She tried again to push away, fighting him until his hold on her
gave way and struggled out of his lap. When she was back on the
wagon seat, she flashed him a glare. “Thought about it, yes, but
that was before you insulted me and stayed out all night with some
prostitute, barely dragged yourself home before the sun came
up.”

He stared at her, his
brows lowering. “A prostitute?” He blinked. “What the hell are you
talking about?”

Grace turned her back to
him best she could and lifted her skirts, retrying her bloomers
before covering her legs again. “Don’t play all innocent with me,
Rafe Samuels. I know exactly what kind of man you are now and I
won’t have it. I don’t want a man who frequents saloons and the
girls they keep above stairs.” She looked at him. “You can just
forget all about me ever considering you as husband
material.”

The expression on his face
was unreadable and it was as she stared at him that she noticed how
tired he looked. Dark circles shined like bruises under his eyes.
He hadn’t shaved in days and she would bet what money Mrs. Jenkins
just gave her for her dresses that he was wearing dirty
clothes.

He raised a hand, rubbing
his chin, the scratchy noise his beard made the only sound in the
stillness around them. “Why would you think I frequent the
Diamondback Saloon?”

She opened her mouth to
answer but closed it. She didn’t know that he did, other than Jesse
saying he was likely to be there. But that didn't make it true. Did
it? Could Jesse have just assumed that was where Rafe was or had he
purposely lied to her?

“What?” Rafe asked. “I can
tell by the look on your face you’re confused about
something.”

Grace frowned. “When you
didn’t come home for supper, Jesse said you were probably in town
visiting Ms. Chloe.”

Rafe had the decency to
blush but he didn’t look away. He cleared his throat and took a
deep breath. “I may have visited the saloon in the past but I
haven’t been there in months.”

“Oh.” Relief flooded her
system. So he hadn’t been at the saloon? Hadn’t been with some
faceless woman named Chloe? Her pulse leaped. “Then where were you
last night?”

“Fixin’ the fence near the
Crowley place. Took me damn near all night to get it
repaired.”

She didn’t say anything,
couldn’t even look at him, then. Was that why he looked so tired?
Because he’d been out all day, and half the night, trying to repair
a fence by himself in the dark?

When he placed his hand on
her chin and turned her face to his, he was smiling. “Is that why
you’ve been so prickly all day? Cause you thought I was with Chloe
last night?”

He looked too pleased
about something. The implications of her jealousy, more than
likely. She scowled and jerked her head back. “I’m not jealous,
Rafe Samuels. I could care less who you crawl into bed with so just
wipe that smirk off your face right this instant.”

His laughter was a wicked,
sultry sound. “I didn’t say a thing about you being jealous, Grace,
but now that you mention it, it does sound a bit like you
are.”

Grace opened her mouth to
tell him how wrong he was but he kissed her before she could get
the first word out. She sighed into his mouth, her eyelids falling
shut as he cupped the back of her head. His tongue ran along the
seam of her mouth and she opened for him, holding back a moan of
pleasure when his tongue touched her own.

This kiss was soft and
slow, melting her to the bone as his lips played and tugged at her
mouth. His hand settled on her waist, raising a fraction to her
ribs and she could feel the heat of it under her breast. She
silently begged him to touch her.

When he pulled away, his
breath was hot against her face. “I want you, Grace." He lifted his
hand, cupping the underside of her breast, her nipple hardening at
his touch. "Every day I want you. I want to….”