Rocky Mountain Wife (11 page)

“You do?”

“That’s how I feel, too.” Her hand remained there on the flat of his chest—his strong, strong chest—and something deep inside of her sighed. Something that had been untouched for too long. “I can’t sit in the dark imagining a twister coming through and sucking up my house board by board.”

“Or the earth and seed I’ve just planted. The horses. The barn.” He towered over her, tall and dark and somehow more revealed in the dark. “I suppose I wouldn’t mind a little company, as long as you promise to run to safety if it looks like the storm will get much worse.”

“That’s a promise.” She didn’t remove her hand, which was probably a mistake because it was starting to burn. Heat traveled up her arm in hot, breathless tingles. He was so hard. Was he like that all over? Her knees quivered, thinking of that one place she wanted to be hard.

Bad, Claire. Bad. I’ve been too long without my husband’s touch,
she thought, thinking of Clay—dear, dear Clay—and how he would turn away from her in bed, keeping his back firmly turned toward her until he fell asleep. Only then would she let her disappointed tears fall, smothering them in her pillow. Every inch of her body was wide awake, needing the kind of thrill only a husband could give.

But it never came.

For years and years she’d lived like that. And now she would never have it. She would never have a man holding her close and gathering her naked in his arms as he stretched out over her, joining their bodies together.

She blushed. What if Joshua knew what she was thinking? Or that she was responding to him, remembering that dream where he’d taken her in the barn, just lifted her skirts and—

“Is that blueberry I smell?” he interrupted, breaking into her thoughts.

“Oh, right. I brought the basket. You left it inside by the door.” She blinked, looking down. Yep, she was gripping the basket’s handle. How had she forgotten? “You’ve got to be hungry. I also made some sweet tea.”

“How did you know that’s my favorite?” His voice cracked, revealing a low note of warmth she’d never heard before.

But she liked it. Her body squeezed hard and deep, those sensitive inner muscles contracting at the sound. Would he sound like that in bed? Was that the voice he used when he was wooing a woman or coaxing pleasure as he ran his big hands over her body?

She shook her head, trying to scatter her thoughts. “Sweet tea is my favorite. I made extra, hoping you would like it. Here, sit down and let me pour you a cup.”

“No, I can do it—”

“It’s my job.” She backed deeper into the shelter of the mostly empty hayloft, where the wind didn’t reach. “Come sit down.”

“I’m not used to this, having a wife.” He sounded vulnerable as he hunkered down on a feed sack. “Not my real wife. Well, you know what I mean.”

“You’ve been alone all this time.” She sat down beside him and pulled a tin mug from the basket by feel. “You’ve been our neighbor for how many years?”

“Five.”

“And in that time, there’s never been a lady you’ve courted? You never wanted to?”

“I don’t want to put a woman through that again.” His eyes adjusted to the darkness, and he could make out her silhouette. He took the mug she offered. Sugary tea scented the air, and he didn’t wait to take a sip. When he did, the sweetness rolled across his parched tongue, soothing it, and trailed down his throat, cooling him. “I don’t know how to love. After a heart goes cold, it stays that way.”

“I don’t believe that. Not about you.”

She sounded so sure. He took another sip, studying the sky outside, so he didn’t have to look at her. If he had a heart that lived, that could love, he wouldn’t hesitate to reach out. Claire was the kind of woman a man dreamed of—if he let himself. He set down the cup. “Believe it. I am a cold-hearted bastard.”

“No. You’ve gone without being loved, that’s all.” The warm silk of her hand covered his. “I know how that feels.”

“You?” He didn’t pull away. “No. Clay adored you. Anyone with eyes could see it.”

“Clay was a good husband.” The words were laced with love and something else he couldn’t name. Sadness? Disappointment. “He loved me so much.”

Joshua hung his head. He didn’t know anything about that kind of love, but he understood what had driven Clay. A man would do anything, go to any lengths, sacrifice anything for a wife like Claire. He was starting to feel that way, too.

“But—” Her confession came like a whisper, so quiet it could barely be heard above the howling wind and the scour of dirt and debris against the outside of the barn. She stared out at the dark sky, where lightning split the world in two. Whatever she’d been about to say, she must have decided to keep unsaid.

He could feel her hurt. His instinct was to draw her close and hold her and chase that pain away. But he knew she wouldn’t want that from him. Not at all. So all he could do was to lace his fingers around hers, holding on, offering her what little comfort she would accept from him.

Thunder rumbled across the sky, bringing hail. It drummed from the sky with ferocity, hammering like bullets to the ground.

“Clay was impotent.” She choked out the words. “It happened a year after Ivy was born. He just couldn’t—you know.”

She hung her head, and he wasn’t sure if it was from embarrassment or shame. He felt embarrassed, too. He didn’t know what to say. “I’m sorry.”

“Me, too.” She bowed her head. Lightning lit up the inside of the barn. “I know what it’s like to long for something that’s impossible, for something you know you can’t have. Clay showed his love in a hundred different ways, but he refused to touch me after that. He stopped touching me at all, and I just—”

She fell silent, leaving her sentence unfinished.

But he understood. He cleared his throat. “You needed him.”

“Yes. I needed that from him.” Her confession was a broken whisper. “It feels shameful to admit.”

“Not shameful.”

“I told myself it didn’t matter, but it did. And now, with this business arrangement of ours—”

“You know it’s not going to happen.”

“Yes.” She sighed, for even this wish felt like a burden and a betrayal. “It’s not very ladylike of me to admit, but I do miss that part of marriage.”

Her tone held such a powerful note of longing that touched him. It burrowed straight through his chest, deep into his heart and burned there. Tenderness. It became so strong his eyes stung. “You’re making me feel like a bad husband, not attending to your needs.”

“Bad? Why, you saved me—us. Ivy, my mother and me. That sounds like a good husband to me.”

“Sure, but we haven’t been married long. Maybe I’ll show my other side and beat you, starve you, even refuse to have sex with you.”

“You don’t have another side, Joshua.”

“True.” He gave a soft chuckle, and then suddenly she was laughing along with him. A musical sound and a sad sound at the same time. His chest ached with emotions he wasn’t used to. He didn’t even know what they were. “You should know I intend to pay you your share of the harvests. I will make yearly payments until I’ve bought the land from you fair and square.”

“Oh, Joshua, that’s not what we agreed to.” The way her voice warmed around his name felt amazing. She swiped at her eyes with her free hand.

“But it is the right thing. I never intended to take your land from you, even if marrying you made it mine.”

“You are just too good to be true.”

“You can say that because you don’t really know me.” For instance, she had no notion he was wrestling against the urge to lay her in the soft hay behind them and find his way up her skirt. She didn’t know how his blood ran hot for her. It coursed through his veins, heavy and thick as lava. “Whatever happens, let’s make a promise to do right by one another. To always be fair.”

“I’ve already made that promise in my heart.” She shook her head, scattering her thick hair. “Even if you are a lousy husband to me.”

“Well, I try but I fail.” He laughed again as a pressure began building beneath his ribs. “I’ll try to stop starving you.”

“Thanks so much.” Her smile flashed in the dark.

“And I’ll do my best to stop beating you.” He leaned closer, mesmerized by a soft shadowy strand of hair that had fallen across her left cheek. There was just enough ambient light from the storm to see the delicate line of her jaw as he reached out and brushed that lock out of her eyes. Hell, he’d never known anything as soft. “As for the sex—”

Was it his imagination or did her eyes go black? Did she want this too? He lost all rational thought, his brain skidded to a halt and his desire for her took over. Before he knew it his mouth captured hers in a velvet, hot kiss. He’d never felt anything like her lips. Lush, soft. He could fall in and never leave. Hunger for her jolted into his veins, and he wanted to pull her into him, pull her down and give her everything he had. Every inch.

But she pulled away. Breathless, she leaped to her feet. “Sorry, Joshua. I just—”

“I know.” He felt like a fool. “You’re not the only one. It’s been a long time for me, too.”

She choked on whatever it was she was going to say and rushed into the darkness. All he could hear was the disappointed thundering of his heart. She disappeared down the ladder, leaving him alone in the loft with fire in his blood and a stiff cock.

Well, that went well,
he thought sarcastically, raking one hand through his hair. Shit. What had he been thinking to kiss her like that? What did he think she’d wanted to do? Let him take her right here in the barn? Not likely.

The hail slowed, turning to an occasional burst of icy pellets. He hopped to his feet and leaned against the open door frame, letting the chilly air cool him down. There she was in the backyard, lifting the storm cellar door. As the clouds broke apart letting out a scant trace of moonlight, he could see the graceful curve of her body and the line of her arm as she reached down into the cellar. His heart twisted hard, thinking about the kiss that had made her run away.

Clearly she didn’t want him.

It hurt. He couldn’t say it didn’t. He’d known all along that she was never going to accept him as a lover. But that hadn’t stopped him from trying. And that was just too bad. It would have been nice to have a dream like her.

And clearly she was a passionate woman. She had needs, too. He remembered her confession about sex and recalled the longing in her voice.

I guess it wasn’t meant to be.
He grabbed the basket she’d left for him, headed down the ladder and let the horses out into their paddock. The storm had passed.

She could still feel Joshua’s kiss hot on her lips. Until tonight, Clay had been the only man who’d kissed her. Upset, she turned her wedding ring around on her finger, watching the pearl gleam.

“You look deep in thought.” Ma broke the stillness, her steps echoing as she entered the kitchen. “Surely steeping tea doesn’t take that much concentration.”

“What? Oh, sorry.” Realizing she’d been caught staring into thin air, she shook herself and leaped into action, grabbing two teacups from the cupboard. “I just have a lot on my mind. I’m just thankful no tornado passed by. Did you see that sky? For a while there, before I sent Ivy into the cellar with you, I was afraid we might get one.”

“Me, too. Good thing the storm blew out.” Ma came up to the counter. “No tea for me. It’s late, and I’d best be getting home.”

Claire sighed. Just how long had she been standing there mulling over what had happened in the barn? “Let me light a lantern for you.”

“No need. I know my way across the backyard by heart.” Ma kissed Claire’s cheek. “Whatever you’re fretting over, let it go, honey. You look so unhappy. Clay would understand.”

“I’m not sure I understand.” She put away the second cup. Should she tell Ma about the kiss? She wanted to confide in her, but it was one more thing she kept to herself. Just like Clay’s impotence. Except tonight she’d opened up and told Joshua. Why she’d done that, she didn’t know. Clay wouldn’t have wanted anyone to now about that. It felt as if she’d betrayed him.

“I can stay and talk.” Ma hesitated, her hand on her shawl. “It’s not that late.”

“No, you go home. It’s past my bedtime.”

“And mine. Sleep well, my dear, and don’t forget to lock up after me.” Ma gave a sad smile, for she understood grief well, slung her shawl over her shoulder and stepped outside. The door clicked, leaving Claire alone in the kitchen.

As she hurried over to turn the lock, she listened for any sound from upstairs. Ivy had been in bed for hours, but sometimes she had a way of hearing her grandmother leave even while asleep. But no sound came from overhead. Ivy stayed fast asleep. The worries over the storm had exhausted her.

How was she ever going to tell the child about the wedding? Ivy had been her papa’s girl. Claire frowned with frustration as she poured a cup of tea. Even after seven months of widowhood, it was still odd to be alone in the kitchen. She half expected Clay to step into the room any time now, wanting to know if she’d put a few cookies on a plate for him to go with his nightly tea. And smiling at her with his kind eyes, where his love for her had lived.

Oh, I miss you.
She wrapped her arms around her middle and closed her eyes. It was Clay’s kiss she wanted, but it was Joshua’s she remembered. His lips hot and new on hers—pleasant and demanding and gentle all at the same time. He’d tasted like passion, and her blood warmed remembering. She warmed everywhere.

Rubbing her legs together, frustrated by needs that hadn’t been met in ages, she sighed. She opened her eyes, grabbed her teacup and blew out the lamp on the counter. Her footsteps rang in the emptiness. Sadness weighed her down as she walked through the house turning off lamps and checking the lock on the front door.

She took the stairs quietly, hating this time of the day the most. She hated the silence. She hated that Clay wasn’t following her into their room. Most of all, she dreaded lying in bed alone, without him.

She was ashamed that she was thinking of another man as she opened her bedroom door.

“Mama?” Ivy’s door creaked open. The beautiful girl peered out, looking like a little angel in her white nightgown. Her brown hair tumbled over her shoulders, slightly curly—the same texture and color as Clay’s.