Nineteen

A noise startled Duel, awakening him from a light sleep.

“Ohhh. Stop.” Thrashing sounds came from behind the curtained-off bedroom. “Please!”

The words shot through the durable fabric clear and crisp.

He threw back the blanket that covered him and rose from the pallet on the floor. Stealing quietly on the balls of his bare feet, he peeked around the corner of the limp partition.

Moans gurgled deep from Jessie’s throat as she tossed wildly, fighting the bedcovers.

“Don’t!”

Her agonized cries cut him to the quick. Clearly she struggled to escape from something—or someone. He could hazard a guess.

“I’m no animal. Don’t do this.”

Duel moved swiftly to capture her flailing arms. He sat on the narrow space beside her.

“Jess, it’s me. Wake up, Jess.” He gathered her to his chest, trying to calm the herd of wild horses that seemed intent on leaping through his rib cage. “I’m here.”

“Don’t leave me.” Her plea ripped apart his earlier good intentions.

When I move into the house, it’ll be into your bed, madam.

That’s what he’d vowed. And he’d meant every word. Now, thanks to the fire, he had no choice but to sleep in the house. Still, that didn’t mean he’d take advantage of the unfortunate situation. He couldn’t. Wouldn’t. Gently, he eased away.

“Don’t go. Please,” Jessie repeated, gripping his bare arm. Her touch reminded him that save for buckskins covering his lower extremities, he was naked.

Only an executioner with a heart of stone could’ve refused that plaintive entreaty.

“I’ll never leave you, darlin’.” He hadn’t meant the “darlin’” part to slip out. It just had. If she hadn’t heard it, maybe he could take it back. When he smoothed back her hair, his fingers brushed her fevered skin.

“You’re sick, Jess. Why didn’t you say anything?”

She smothered another low moan with the back of her hand. Her uncontrollable shivers reminded him of a sapling in the middle of a Texas twister.

Duel released her. “I’ll be right back. Need to get more quilts for you and replenish the wood in the fire.”

“No. Please stay with me.” Jessie clawed the empty air.

A thin sliver of moonlight pierced the windowpane and spilled across the bed. In the dimness, her face projected impenetrable fear.

He hastened to reassure her. “I’ll be right back, Jess. You’re freezing.”

Forgoing stoking the fire, he grabbed some extra quilts, stubbing his toe on a chair leg in his haste to return. He swallowed a whole string of curses.

“See, here I am.” Limping painfully, he spread the thick cover over her. He wished to high heaven he could ease the wild terror on her face.

“You won’t hurt me?” She gripped the quilts tightly around her neck.

Damn! The last thing in the world he wanted was to cause Jessie pain and grief. Unsure of what he should do next, he shifted his weight as he stood beside the bed.

“You should know by now I’ll never hurt you. A McClain promise. Remember?”

“Duel?” As if only now recognizing him, suddenly Jessie stretched out her hand. “Will you hold me, Duel? For a little while. Until I fall asleep?”

Air gushed from his chest in one loud rush. Blindsided by a quick right to the belly felt more like it. Hold her? His buckskins grew tight with a deep, steadfast longing. He ached to slip his hands beneath her gown, to caress the silky skin he knew he’d find.

Then holding her would not be enough.

Indecision wound its way through him, a vine seeking sunlight and truth. Thing was, he didn’t trust himself to keep his emotions under lock and key. This “becoming familiar” business had taken him into dangerous territory. Still, he couldn’t turn a deaf ear. What sort of man could—except perhaps Jeremiah Gates Foltry?

That decided it. If Jessie asked him to jump over the moon he’d bust a gut trying. It was little enough to ask after the hell that man had put her through.

“Just try to get rid of me, Mrs. McClain.” The ropes beneath the mattress protested when Duel settled comfortably with his back against the high mahogany headboard. Another gift from Judge Parker. Must have cost the man a small fortune, yet he’d insisted on only the best for his daughter. Things a sodbuster could never afford.

Jessie slept then while he kept watch. He’d not let dreams, monsters, or illness befall her if he could help it.

A contented sigh broke from Jessie’s lips as he pulled her against him. With the cover tucked snugly around her, she let her head rest next to his heart. In that moment, his throbbing toe was totally forgotten.

Dawn neared when she opened her eyes. Her startled gaze took in his presence, but she didn’t recoil. “What?”

“You woke last night, fevered and with chills. Do you remember?”

“I dreamt I begged you to not leave me. That wasn’t a dream, was it?”

Duel shook his head.

“Oh dear. I suppose you sat like this all night? I’m sorry.”

“I’m not. You feel better now?” He relished the soft tickle of her hair against his bare skin.

“Yes.” A few seconds later she turned to look up at him. “Duel, are you happy?”

The question caught him off guard, for he’d been neck deep in fancy—fancyin’ her breath, wispy and light on his body, fancyin’ the feel of her beneath him, fancyin’ what it would be like to make love to his wife. His eyes popped open.

“I’m happy as a man has a right to be, I reckon.” He met her stare honestly. “Are you, Jess?”

She lowered her gaze as if embarrassed. “It’s this business arrangement of ours that bothers me.”

A rock tumbled and lodged in the pit of his stomach. Was she wanting out of their marriage?

“Are you disappointed in me? Have I done something to upset you?” Except for one small detail, they seemed to have it running smoothly, he thought. A swarm of doubt twisted and turned inside him. He choked for fear that he’d lose her before he had a chance to show her how wonderful life could be.

“This business arrangement,” she repeated again. “Is there any way you suppose we could change it?”

Change it? What in the name of Jehoshaphat was she talking about?

Jessie bit her lip and continued. “I find it…unacceptable.”

If she was trying to tell him she wanted out of the marriage, he’d make her spell it out. “How so?”

“I’d like a real marriage, not just one in name only. Are you…can you bear the thought of me as your wife? Just a little?”

A real marriage? Until this very moment he’d considered the likelihood of that happening as nothing short of a miracle. Had the lightning strike earlier injured his brain?

“You want a real marriage?” He spoke the words slowly, as if they needed time to sink in.

“Not a pretend one.” She allowed herself a quick glance. Probably to judge his reaction to her shocking words. “I’m tired of pretending. I’d like to wake up every morning with you beside me.”

“Are you ready for that, Jess? Do you know what you’re asking?”

“I’ve never been more ready. That is, if you think—”

Bless her. This woman he’d married was the most sensitive, caring, simply delectable person he’d ever known. He savored the thought as if it were an unexpected taste of honey.

“Darlin’, I’ve already squared the past.” He stroked her cheek much as a sculptor would mold and shape the features of his love. “I’ll never forget Annie, but I’ve made a whole new life. We’re a family—you, me, and Marley Rose.”

He gently traced her lips with his fingertips before he lowered his mouth to capture hers.

Bedcovers fell away when she put her arms around his neck.

The place he trod upon was holy. A place he’d never been before, and he gave of himself one tiny morsel at a time.

From her lips, his kisses trailed to her slender throat, pausing at the rapid pulse at its base. There he pressed his mouth reverently. The gentle rhythm of her heartbeat seemed the only sound in the universe.

If love had a sound, surely this would be it. The quick beating of two hearts in tune with unheard music.

He inched farther, torturing his body with agonizing patience. Slow and easy, clearing her gown from the path as he went.

Tasting, touching, caressing.

Her rosy nipples tempted. He laved her ample breasts with his tongue, suckling on the pebbled nubs until she mewed and moaned.

Silver moonlight bathed her body with iridescent rays. He sucked in his breath. Jessie was more beautiful than he’d ever dared imagine. The best thing of all was he didn’t have to steal peeks. She lay exposed for his eyes only, and he drank his fill.

Pausing for a second to remove his trousers, he had to ask one more time. “Are you sure about this, Jess?”

“Yes. I’m sure.”

Her answer came as a silky thread spun by the most diligent spider. Had they created a web of fragile strands or could it withstand a stiff breeze? They’d soon find out. Beside him, a shudder ran the length of her body when he took her in his arms.

“I won’t hurt you. Anytime you want to stop, just say the word.” He spoke the vow into the soft cloud of her hair.

He didn’t expect an answer. None came. Only a tender sigh as she melted against him.

Though he longed to obey his needs and rush to the beckoning goal, he proceeded slowly and with great caution.

Tracing tiny circles on her bare shoulder, he acquainted her with a light, sensuous touch. Down her arm, across her stomach, up the middle between her breasts, and then her throat. Growing bolder, he slipped his fingers over her creamy shoulder and down her back.

Gently, he moved in small, swirling arcs. Her skin was smooth, soft as a baby’s bottom. Suddenly, he encountered a patch of rough, crinkled flesh. Chunks of ice formed in his veins as he froze. The brand.

Jessie moaned as if in pain, hiding her face among the wispy hair on his chest.

“I’m sorry. Does it still hurt?” Sick remorse made his belly twist and buck, trying to relieve him of his supper.

Tears sparkled in Jessie’s eyes when she met his troubled gaze. “It’s healed. It’s just that I almost forgot for a little while.”

She pulled the bedcovers up to hide her nakedness. Duel cursed his clumsy blunder. He had ruined the tender mood. He rose and pulled on his buckskins. Outside, a thin, wispy scarf draped over the moon. The cloud momentarily blanked the silvery rays, making him locate the buttons of his breeches by touch alone.

Behind him, a delicate swish echoed in the quiet alcove, and he envisioned the muslin gown settling over Jessie’s bare breasts just as the wispy cloud had hid the moon—teasing, tantalizing.

A groan rose to his throat before he could stifle it. No amount of clothing could hide what his eyes and his heart had seen this night. His memory had forever captured Jessie’s exquisitely rounded curves, her sweet spirit. Covering his mouth, he hastily muffled the groan.

“Duel, I’m sorry. I truly am.” She reached out to stop him when he started to leave.

The simple gesture spoke of her despair. That she would fault herself for his stumble bathed his soul in wonder.

“You don’t owe me anything, Jess.” The small hand resting on his arm released ripples of warmth. He covered it with his free one. “It’s my place to make the amends.”

“I’d like you to stay. Please?”

Duel sat on the edge of the bed facing her. Auburn tendrils framed her face, spilling onto her bosom. Reminded him of a beautiful angel. If she knew how much he wanted her, how hotly the river of desire ran in his blood, she’d chase him from the house and bolt the doors.

When he started to speak, she placed her fingertips on his lips. “Don’t talk yet.”

Misery crawled into the far corners of his heart as he waited for her to gather her thoughts. Moonlight turned her blue eyes a silvery gray. She’d never looked more precious to him—or more aggrieved.

“I thought I could do it. Thought that what Jeremiah did to me didn’t matter. I intended to carry through.” Her musical voice lowered to almost a whisper. “I wanted you, not as a wife dutifully lets her husband, but in every way a woman desires a man.”

“You don’t have to explain, Jess.” He knew about that desire, for it seeped into his every pore. Oh God, sweet torture.

“But I do.” She wet her dry lips. “If you’ll give me more time…”

“I’ll let you have all the time you want.” The delicate curve of her cheek beckoned, and Duel couldn’t resist. He caressed, exploring her smooth features. Darn her mouth for looking so kissable. “I’m not going anywhere, lady,” he murmured. “Not even if you invite that blasted goat into our parlor.”

She rewarded his attempt at lighthearted humor with a skittish smile.

“Thank you.”

“We’ll just take it one small step at a time. No need to build up a head of steam right off.” Now why had he uttered those words? Anyone with any sense knew you couldn’t control a head of steam—it darn well spewed when and where it wanted.

If gaining her trust didn’t mean so darn much, he’d forgo capping the pressure that’d built inside him and throw caution to the wind.

“Then will you understand when I tell you I want you to share my bed, but not my body yet?”

Inside, every fiber resisted the notion. It would be nigh impossible to lie beside Jessie and try to keep his manly needs in check. After all, a man could be exposed to only so much temptation. Outwardly, he kept his doubts cloaked in what he hoped was his best poker face.

“If that’s your wish, I’ll respect it.”

But how, he didn’t know. Lord help him. Somehow, someway, he’d find the strength.

Jessie threw back the quilts for him to climb in beside her.