Two Texas Hearts

TWENTY

THE SKY TURNED DARK WITH BOILING CLOUDS ALONG the horizon as Winter rode home on a borrowed horse behind the buggy he’d driven to town. They’d spent far longer in town than he’d planned and accomplished nothing. The sheriff couldn’t remember talking to Wyatt the night Cheyenne had been shot. After waiting on the doc for hours, he’d been able to shed little light on Wyatt’s injury. He also reported hearing the man at Breaks Settlement mumbling about gunfire, but the doc said his words didn’t make any sense. Mixed in with the screams of being shot was talk of a woman whose aim was deadly. The only woman there that day, Win told the doc, had been Kora, and she hadn’t carried a gun. The dying man must have been mixing nightmares.

Winter was beginning to think he was on the wrong track accusing the gambler. It appeared Wyatt knew nothing and Winter’s only lead was dead. But it wouldn’t hurt to keep Wyatt close a few days and watch his behavior. If the cattlemen were moving a herd north, they’d do it soon. The weather was right and market prices high. If the gambler was involved, they wouldn’t have long to wait.

Winter could hear Wyatt spinning some long tale to Cheyenne as the two rode side by side in the buggy. Winter smiled. Men who talked a lot eventually said too much.

Kicking his horse, Win pulled beside the buggy. ‘‘We’ll be lucky to make it in before the rain.’’ He was ready to be home, and he imagined Cheyenne was tired of the chatter.

Wyatt slapped the horses into a trot, and Cheyenne swore in pain. They managed to reach the barn just as huge raindrops fell, turning the dry, tan earth to a dark brown.

Winter waved the gambler and Cheyenne inside and took the buggy along with his horse to the barn. He took his time unsaddling the horse and brushing down the animals, not because they needed extra care, but because it was one way he could delay before going in the house. Being home was one thing, facing Kora was another.

He’d racked his brain all day and was no closer to thinking of what he should say to Kora. He’d gone from hating himself to being angry at her for not warning him. She should have reminded him she was a virgin. She should have made him go slower. She shouldn’t have made him so half-mad from kissing her that he wasn’t thinking.

He was no lovesick cowhand who hadn’t seen a woman in months. She was driving him crazy with her soft manner and gentle ways. And after all, she’d been the one who came looking for him in the orchard with her soft plea for him to touch her. The more he thought about it, the more he saw this whole mess as her doing.

He’d told her from the first he would never love her, Win thought. He’d been honest about wanting to share her bed. So she better not come crying and complaining now. The way he saw it, all he’d done was keep his word.

Win marched at full attack across the yard toward the house. ‘‘She got what she asked for and agreed to,’’ he mumbled, figuring there was no need for him to say a word about last night. What happened to her happened to every wife.

As he stomped in the kitchen primed for a fight, the smell of home cooking was all that greeted him. He loved the smell of cinnamon and apples baking. Since she’d been here the aromas always washed over him when he came home, making him forget most of his problems.

Win frowned. Maybe her revenge would be to fatten him up. If he kept downing half a pie at a time, he wouldn’t be able to sit a horse come next fall.

Voices drifted from the dining room. Win tossed his hat and coat on the rack and moved across the room. He ran his hand over his gunbelt. He knew Kora wanted him to remove it before sitting down at the table, but tonight he refused. Maybe that was another thing she’d just have to get used to. She was married to a rancher, and the Colt strapped to his leg was a part of his life. He hadn’t married her under any false pretenses, and if she thought she was going to change him, she’d better start thinking again.

He advanced into the dining room and took his seat, but if anyone noticed his dark mood, they gave it no credit. Wyatt was in the middle of a story, and Kora seemed far too occupied slicing meat to greet him. He joined the group and ate silently without anyone making a comment about his late arrival. Kora sat at the opposite end of the table between Wyatt and Cheyenne. Both men complimented her meal but gave most of their attention to Jamie.

When the meal was over, Jamie helped Kora clear the dishes. Win nodded to Wyatt and Cheyenne, then disappeared into his study, saying he had work to do. He was suddenly sick of talking to people, and most of all to himself.

He tried first to work, then to read, but pacing was the only thing he could do with any ability. Win thought of going out to the barn, but with the rain, all he could do there was think. Also it was not his habit to return to the barn. Win had a feeling Logan would notice and comment come morning.

Logan would mutiny if he thought Win and Kora were having trouble. The old man would be on Kora’s side before he even heard what was wrong. Not that he, or anyone else, would ever hear a word about last night. What happened was driving Win mad, and no one seemed to notice, including Kora.

Over and over in his mind he retraced the uneventful evening. The way Kora hardly looked at him. The way everyone talked around him. He might as well be Dan. No one noticed him, and he was starting to pick up his brother-in-law’s habit of walking. It was only a matter of time before he and Dan would both be circling the house nightly. Who knows? Maybe it hadn’t been the war but a wife somewhere who’d made poor old Dan the way he was.

Why couldn’t Kora have yelled at him about the Colt, or about being late to the table, or about the mud he’d tracked all over her kitchen? Why’d she have to act like nothing was wrong when he knew she must hate him? But, hell, the woman even passed him the first piece of pie. That was about as far as he’d be pushed, he’d almost exploded.

Win could stand the study’s confinement no longer. He almost jerked the door from its hinges as he bolted out of the room and down the hall to the kitchen. He would allow her to drive him mad no longer. It was time she faced him and had her say. How was he supposed to defend himself if she didn’t take a swing at him? She’d probably thought out this strategy of kindness just to drive him insane. Well, he would stand for it no more.

The kitchen was dark except for the glowing fire in the corner and the flashes of lightning from the windows.

Win stormed back down the hall and up a flight of stairs. If she’d gone to bed without a word, it would be the last straw.

But when he touched the railing to the final staircase, he hesitated. What if she were packing? What if she’d already left him despite the rain?

Jamie opened her bedroom door only a few feet from where Winter stood. ‘‘Evening, brother. I figured you went over with Wyatt and Cheyenne to the bunkhouse for a game of cards.’’ She looked pouty. ‘‘They made it plain I wasn’t invited.’’

‘‘I didn’t go.’’ Winter looked up the stairs toward his bedroom. ‘‘I was working in the study and finally decided it was time to turn in.’’

Jamie laughed. ‘‘I never know if you’re going up or down. I figured you were sleeping downstairs again. You’re worse than a yo-yo. I’ve seen bedbugs stake claims longer than you do, cowboy. She kick you out again?’’

Winter frowned. ‘‘No.’’ He wished he’d managed to sound more definite. ‘‘I just had some work I needed to do in the study first.’’

‘‘Well, try to stay up there all night this time. You wake me up always tromping down these stairs.’’ She leaned against the door facing. ‘‘I could give you some advice.’’

‘‘I don’t need any!’’ Winter snapped. ‘‘I’m doing fine on my own.’’

He took the stairs two at a time, wishing his words were true. Kora probably hated him more than she had ever hated anyone. For all he knew, she’d blockaded herself in the room or would toss him out in the rain. But not without a fight. If that was what she wanted, he’d give her one.

When he reached the top of the stairs, the warm glow of several lamps greeted him. Kora was curled in a blanket in an overstuffed chair she’d set next to the bookshelves. She glanced over at him, and he saw the fear in her eyes. Raw, childlike fear.

Winter almost turned around, but he wasn’t sure he could stand another day of arguing with himself. He took a step toward her.

‘‘Win,’’ she whispered, and in one sudden movement she was up from the chair and running toward him.

He caught her in midair as her arms wrapped around his neck with such force, for a moment he wasn’t sure if she was hugging or attacking.

‘‘I was wrong about the room!’’ she cried. ‘‘It’s frightening up here.’’

Her words didn’t register. The feel of her against him, the smell of her surrounding him, the light dancing in her hair was all he could take in.

‘‘What?’’ he said as he held her.

Kora pulled away. ‘‘The lightning looks like it will hit the house at any moment, and the thunder rattles the glass. I don’t like this place anymore. Maybe we can both sleep in the study tonight? Up here, it’s like being in the middle of a thundercloud.’’

Winter smiled and lifted her off the floor in his arms. She wasn’t frightened of him; she was frightened of the storm. ‘‘It’s all right,’’ he whispered as he carried her back to the chair.

He sat down and pulled the blanket over them both. ‘‘The captain told me once that he ordered the glass for these windows all the way from Chicago. He said the wood in the frame will split before the glass will break. The house has stood for fifty years without a storm taking it down, and I think it will be all right tonight. But if the storm bothers you, I could have shutters put up for nights like this.’’

She cuddled into his lap, leaning her head on his shoulder. ‘‘I’m sorry to be such a fool. I usually don’t let storms bother me. It doesn’t seem so bad now that you’re here.’’ She placed her hand over his heart. ‘‘Jamie would make fun of me for being so childish. I like to see the sky, but when it’s stormy I feel closed in. Shutters might be a good idea.’’

Win thought of all the things he’d considered saying to her. How he’d argued with himself for hours. In his mind he’d apologized, blamed her, and organized his strategies all day. But now, with her curled in his arms, he couldn’t remember what he’d been going to say.

‘‘Kora,’’ he finally whispered as his hand moved comfortingly along her back. ‘‘About last night.’’

She raised her head and looked at him, blue eyes full of question. ‘‘I forgot to thank you for placing your shirt where you did.’’ She paused and looked down, embarrassed at the memory. ‘‘It helped ease the pain considerably.’’

Win leaned his head back and closed his eyes. She wasn’t holding up her half of the discussion he’d planned. But he’d already prepared his reply and it jumped from his mouth before he could stop the words. ‘‘Well, don’t expect me to apologize for taking what’s mine.’’ He knew he sounded rough. That hadn’t been the way he’d meant to say it. ‘‘You should have reminded me you were a virgin and to slow down some. I may not be as experienced in these matters as you seem to think. You can’t expect me to slow down in the middle of a stampede.’’

Kora straightened in his arms and moved to face him. ‘‘I didn’t ask you to apologize.’’ Each word rose in anger. ‘‘And I didn’t think you were so dense that I’d have to remind you I was a virgin. And you don’t have to tell me you aren’t an overactive lover. I think I figured that out on my own last night.’’

He steadied her back as she squirmed in his lap. It was one thing for him to express his lack of female partners in bed, and quite another for her to comment on the fact.

Before he could think of anything to say, she attacked. ‘‘I don’t know what I have to do to convince you I’m not some fragile doll made of china that will break. I can take all the bedding you want to give, but I’ll not be taken like a whore, and that’s final.’’

She stood and faced him with her hands on her hips. Her anger rivaled the storm outside. ‘‘The act of mating hurt me far more than I thought it would, but I survived. Last night when I finished crying, I realized I’m your wife, not because of some bargain we made or because you bedded me, but because I want to be. And if you weren’t so stubborn and bullheaded, you’d realize the same thing. We’ll share a bed as married folks do, but we’ll only do the act when both of us are willing. So don’t go thinking you were taking when I was the one giving.’’

Winter felt the anger in him building. She wasn’t saying any of the things he’d thought she would, but she’d obviously practiced for this discussion as he had. She wasn’t crying or throwing him out, or even running from him like a frightened rabbit. ‘‘Are you saying you’ll sleep with me again?’’

‘‘I am,’’ Kora answered directly. ‘‘But there will be no more bedding until the bruises heal. You’ll not touch me until then. And you’ll never leave a mark on me again.’’

‘‘Like hell.’’ Win pulled her back into his lap with a sudden jerk. ‘‘I’ll try never to bruise you again, but I’m not waiting to touch you. Last night in the orchard you said I could touch you whenever I liked.’’

Before she could protest, his lips covered hers. All the worry and anger vanished as he tasted her again. He groaned when she only hesitated a moment before opening her mouth to his. She was right about one thing. He knew he was her husband and would be until the day he died. Not because of any bargain or last night, but because he wanted to be.

When he finally lifted his head, she made no move to leave his arms.

‘‘I’ve been waiting all day to taste you again.’’ He brushed her cheek with his knuckles. ‘‘I like the way your mouth looks when it’s been kissed.’’

She cuddled into his arms, resting her head on his shoulder. The kiss had cooled her anger as well and reminded her of the part of last night that she’d enjoyed greatly.

‘‘I didn’t intend to hurt you last night,’’ he whispered as he stroked her hair. ‘‘I’ve spent my life working hard and, when the need came, fighting hard. You’re the first person in my life who ever made me want to soften my touch. I didn’t think about it much, but I figured even if you hadn’t slept with Adams, at your age you’d have already had a few lovers.’’

Kora straightened slightly. ‘‘I’m not the kind of woman men notice. I’ve seen men fall all over themselves to open the door for a lady in front of me and let the door close in my face without even noticing.’’

Win laughed. ‘‘I find that hard to believe.’’ But he remembered the way Logan had first described her and how he’d thought he was marrying a shadow to live in his house. ‘‘There was no one?’’ Win watched her closely.

Kora smiled. ‘‘When I was ten there was a boy who lived next door to a basement room we rented. He kissed me once.’’

‘‘So I’m not the first?’’

‘‘No,’’ Kora answered. ‘‘And what of you, Win?’’

Win frowned. ‘‘Men don’t talk about the women in their past.’’

Kora’s bottom lip came out. ‘‘I told you.’’

Win fought to keep from kissing her. ‘‘All right,’’ he finally answered. ‘‘The first time I was man enough to handle a cattle drive the captain bought me a woman when we reached Dodge. I’d had so much to drink I don’t remember much except she’d earned her money and was gone before I finished the bottle.’’

‘‘And the others?’’

Win took a long breath, debating how much to tell her. ‘‘There was an Indian girl in Wichita Falls I used to see now and then. She was nice and friendly. She wasn’t seeing anyone else that I know of and didn’t do it for the money, but she didn’t mind if I made a few months’ payments on her house while I was passing through town. I think I thought that with her I could go home, back to my past. But every time she left me feeling hollow. Like somehow I was muddying the past with what I was doing. I stopped visiting and later heard she’d married the local blacksmith.’’

‘‘And the others?’’

‘‘There were no others,’’ Win said. ‘‘I was too busy with the ranch to have time to go courting, and the women for hire were like cheap whiskey. I knew I’d regret it come morning.’’

‘‘And then there was me,’’ Kora whispered. ‘‘Did you regret bedding me?’’

‘‘No,’’ he answered honestly. ‘‘But I regret hurting you.’’

‘‘I know,’’ she answered as she wiped the hair from his forehead and kissed his cheek lightly. They sat silently for a while, then she whispered, ‘‘I like the way you kiss me. I never thought a kiss could be like that. And when you asked me if I was sure, I said yes, so it wasn’t all your fault.’’ She leaned against him. Her voice was so low, it passed between them as almost a thought. ‘‘I’ll try not to scream the next time you open my legs.’’

Her words cooled his building passion. Suddenly he didn’t want to just bed her, he wanted there to be more between them, much more. She enjoyed his kisses and even his touch. He’d slow down. He’d give her all the time she needed. She was right, she was stronger than he gave her credit for being. By the time she climbed on the train to California she’d know what it was like to enjoy being loved.

Gently he rose with her in his arms and carried her to the bed. While she curled beneath the covers, he stripped and joined her. He kissed her forehead lightly as she rested her head on his shoulder and fell asleep. He guessed she’d slept little last night and probably worried as much about what she’d say to him as he had. Now, in his arms, she relaxed.

All night, Win slept with her next to him. He was always aware of her movements. The feel of her hips pressing against his leg. The warmth of her breath against his throat. The softness of her breast resting on his arm.

Deep into the night, with his mind heavy in dreams, he closed his hand over her breast. She moaned softly in her sleep. He stroked the mound, thinking it might be tender from last night, but she didn’t roll from his touch. She’d accepted his touch, and he still saw it as a dream.

She was his, he thought as he gently moved his fingers over her, knowing he could touch her now wherever he liked. This wonderful creature was his to caress all night. She hadn’t argued when he’d reminded her she’d given him the right. He moved his fingers over her gown, feeling the peak of each breast and the rise and fall of her breathing. She was his to touch until sunup. He tasted her lips and spread his hand wide over her abdomen. She was his if only for a while.

The smell of her hair filled his senses as he moved his fingers over her hips, stroking her back. He loved the feel of her soft yielding curves. She stretched like a lazy cat and moved her arm around his neck. With only a gentle tug, he pulled her against the length of him so that he could feel her length with his body while his hand moved over the small of her back and down across her hips. She made no protest, but relaxed against him, unaware of the pleasure she brought him while she slept.

He tried to sleep himself, but with each breath her breasts pressed softly against him. Win fought the urge to unbutton her gown. She was sleeping so soundly, she might not awaken, and even if she did, he didn’t think she’d stop him. As illogical as it sounded, she’d made it plain that she was his wife and that he was welcome. She’d even asked him to touch her. Last night, when they’d made love, she’d never stopped him from taking all he’d wanted.

And now, tonight, he wanted her more than he had last night. He wanted to see her body, not just feel it. He wanted to taste her breasts, drawing each deep into his mouth. He wanted to caress her until she was ready and would welcome him inside with a cry of pleasure and not pain. But she’d said they’d wait until they both were ready. She’d said not until the bruises healed.

Suddenly the truth dawned on him, shaking him full awake. This was her revenge. Why scream and cry and kick him out when she could torture him like this? She wasn’t his, he was hers. She’d drawn every need he’d ever felt out until all he could think of was her. He wanted to pull away and tell her to go to hell, that no woman would ever own or control him. But her soft arm was a chain, her body a magnet he couldn’t pull free of.

This small woman with her soft ways and gentle voice would take her revenge all night, and Winter knew he would do nothing but endure the torture.