A Contract Bride's Triple Surprise (31 page)

He’d thought about what Prue would have done if she’d got herself in this predicament with only Ross or Nevin around. She would have cut the dress and corset off rather than be seen by the others. Her talk of sharing was just that. Talk.

Auntie told him what Amelia did with Nevin on the kitchen table before Ross hauled her outside for more. The old lady damn near giggled in pride. She said Amelia’s sass was good for her boys.

He didn’t mind a bit of sass in a woman, as long as she knew who was boss.

Amelia tied a third knot. “Can you see anything?”

“It’s all dark from this side.”

“Good. I’ll turn around so you can start on my buttons.”

Gillis opened his eyes. He wouldn’t touch the blindfold to make it easier to see, but he wasn’t about to let her know that enough light filtered through. He got to his feet, stumbling a bit. He held out his hands, feeling for her.

“Oh, no, you don’t.”

She grabbed his hand and placed it on her back before he could touch her elsewhere. Now that her back was turned, he let a smile slip out. He blew out his breath as he worked on her buttons. It made the tendrils of hair at her neck stir. She shivered, just like Prue used to do. He cursed as his thick fingers fought the tiny buttons.

“Who was the idjit who tied you into this fool dress?”

“Nevin was kind enough to do it for me.” Her tone was snippy, implying that Ross had refused to do it.

“I’ll have to thank the lad.”

“Why?”

She turned toward him. He kept his eyes as slits and let his fingers trail over her bare neck as she turned. He wasn’t going to say that it allowed him to touch her, reminding him what a woman’s soft skin felt like.

“’Tis the first time I’ve been up here since Prue died. She’s dead and buried,” he croaked. “And I have to move on.”

Careful of the blindfold, he pressed his knuckles against his forehead as sudden grief rolled over him. It faded quickly this time rather than taking hours. Amelia forced him to open up and see that life went on. She grieved for her sister but was able to move on.

He’d lost his wife, but he was the Chief. It was his job to be responsible for the Clan. He would not follow Prue into the grave the way that Trace’s father had followed his mother. He was not that selfish.

When he saw Amelia that day in the clearing, taking his brothers with every bit of joy she could, something shattered inside him. It scared the hell out of him. Even this morning in town, he’d fought against letting her in. But his brothers were gone for some time, and he had to step forward. He never let Prue wander around town alone, and he was not going to let Amelia.

He just hadn’t realized how much he enjoyed proving to her who was boss. He’d laughed at her today…and lusted. It would have been even better if he’d been able to get into a knock-down fistfight.

“Ah, well,” he murmured. “It is what it is.”

She moved away with the last button undone. He heard the skiff of fabric as she slipped off her bodice. She wore a red corset underneath. With her back to him, she pulled off her fancy shift, skirt, petticoat, and bustle. She bent over to lay them on the bed and then turned to face him.

He had to bite his tongue.

He’d taken one look at her in the clearing and turned his back. Since then, he’d told himself the vision he held in his mind was false.

It was real.

Damn, she was lush! There were the wide hips that had Ross held with both hands. He remembered that curve of her ass as she bent forward, breasts jiggling as she gasped with each thrust. Her belly might even now hold his nephew.

She turned her back and stood in front of him.

“Nevin tucked the lacing under my right shoulder.”

He reached out his hand and tentatively touched her hip, as if he wasn’t sure where she was. She shivered and swallowed hard. He traced his fingers up the corset to her armpit. He circled around it so lightly that his calluses skimmed her downy hair. She shivered again.

As soon as the wagon reached the yard she’d run into the house. When he put everything away, he brought her drawers and petticoats to her. Her soaking drawers had the same scent he now inhaled. He would love Prue until the day he died. If she’d lived, he’d never have looked at another woman.

But Prue was dead. Amelia was alive…and married to his brother.

He wouldn’t ask. But if she wanted him, he was too weak to turn her down.

He found the tie and pulled it free. A few minutes and he had her unlaced. She held the corset to her breast like a shield and scuttled over to the corner screen.

“Thank you,” she said. “You can remove the blindfold.”

He pulled it off and blinked. She peeked around the far corner of the screen. Her face was almost as red as her corset.

“Good night, Amelia,” he said.

“Thank you again. Good night.”

His wool kilt rasped against his hard cock as he walked down the stairs. Ross said she might have a nightmare and need to be held. Holding her, just holding, would be torture. But some night, she might want him to do more than hold her. Maybe he’d get a chance to kiss her.

He undressed and lay on the pallet between the stairs and the kitchen. He listened to the house settle around him as it cooled. The comforting sounds reminded him of better times. He drifted off.

* * * *

“Fire! Please, someone, help!”

Gillis was halfway up the stairs before his eyes opened. He ran into the bedroom and stopped, chest heaving. Amelia rolled in the bed, trying to escape the sheets wrapped around her.

“Don’t let them die! Please, help me!”

He strode toward the bed and lifted her, sheets and all, into his arms. “I’ve got ye, lassie. Ye’re safe.”

“But the children!”

“The wee ones are safe. Shh, ye can relax now.”

She sighed and slumped against him. He stood for a moment trying to catch his breath, enjoying the feel of her against him. He gently laid her down and unwrapped her from the sheets. Her nightgown was soaked along with the sheets. Telling himself it was a job that needed doing, he eased her nightgown over her head. Her nipples crinkled as the cool air from the window hit them. He backed off the bed and walked around to the other, undisturbed, side.

He pulled back the top sheet then gently rolled her over. She stretched out on her side, her back to him.

Her long, dark hair, so much like her sister’s, flowed over her body. A body that was nothing like any he’d seen before. Perfect alabaster with light brown circles around large nipples. Dimples above her ass that he could put a thumb into. He sighed and covered her.

He kissed her forehead and walked toward the stairs.

She started moaning again. He looked over his shoulder. She whipped her head to the side and cried out.

He looked up at the ceiling. “Lord, why are ye putting me in temptation?”

Amelia choked, coughing as if she breathed smoke. She whimpered.

“All right, then. ’Tis in yer hands, nae mine.”

As soon as she felt the mattress tip, she turned toward him. He lay on his back and let her climb onto his chest. Her left hip brushed against his cock. He gently rested his arm on her back.

“Sleep, lassie. Yer safe.”

He lay there and looked at the ceiling, silently talking with God, until faint fingers of light broke through the night. Figuring she was safe now, he got up. He looked at the messy bed and the nightgown he’d hung on a peg to dry. He shook his head and padded downstairs, hard cock aching with every step.

Let her figure out how it got there.

* * * *

Amelia carefully sliced bread. She couldn’t remember a thing happening between going to bed and waking up. Gillis had grabbed breakfast and was gone before she woke. All morning, she’d waited for him to say something about what they must have done, but he hadn’t come by.

“Dinner ready yet?”

She jumped. The knife clattered onto the floor. Gillis knelt and set it on the table.

“Better be careful with that. Ye could get hurt.”

She gulped. Though he was dressed as usual, in shirt, kilt, and boots, he looked different. He looked
at
her differently. She turned her back and went to the stove. She’d cooked up extra bacon at breakfast. The onions and cold potatoes from yesterday were sliced and ready to heat. A pot of beans was bubbling in the heat at the back of the stove. She slid the heavy pot to the front, replacing it with the cast-iron frying pan.

“Somethin’ itchin’ ye, lass?”

“Pardon?”

She kept her back to him as she added a dollop of bacon fat to the pan and then the onions. Once they were mostly cooked, she’d brown the potatoes with them.

“I said, is somethin’ itchin’ ye?”

His deep voice came from right behind her. Onions. She had to stir the onions.

“Ye’ve been jumpy all day. Did somethin’ happen last night?”

“What?” She squeaked and whirled around. He looked at her for a moment and then turned to wash up in the yard. She watched him pull his shirt off. He was fifteen inches taller and perhaps three times her weight. He moved like a giant, deliberate power visible in every action. Ross and Nevin were more like mountain lions, sleek and graceful but no less deadly.

He splashed water over his beard and furred chest. How did she know what his chest felt like on her face? Soft and warm and a bit prickly. She rubbed her nose. Ross and Nevin’s skin was mostly smooth with only a few stray hairs around their nipples. She’d never thought of getting an itchy nose from a man’s hairy chest.

She startled when a log crackled. She turned back to the stove, catching the onions just in time. She added the chopped potatoes and stirred the pan, coating everything well in bacon fat so they’d brown. She reached for the pot of beans.

“I’ll get that.”

Gillis, still without his shirt, brushed past her. His chest hair tickled her cheek as he passed. She backed away as he picked up the heavy pot with one hand. His arm bulged as he carried it outside.

“Ye want the water in the cauldron?”

“Yes, please.” When the boiling water from the beans cooled, she’d use it on the vegetables and herbs in the garden.

After depositing the pot on the stove, he went back out to put on his shirt. When he sat in the chair at the end of the table, she filled his plate with beans, bacon, onions, and potatoes and the sliced bread. She puttered, delaying the time she’d have to sit with him. At last, she had a smaller plate fixed for herself. She poured a mug of milk.

“I have milk. Did you want some?”

He looked up. She was sure he stared at her breasts before meeting her eyes.

“From the goat?” His lip twitched. He shook his head. “Nae.”

She frowned. He looked as if he was holding back a laugh at her expense. He looked at his plate again. She sat at the long side of the table on the bench, her back to the room.

“Is yer nightie dry?”

She dropped her spoon, heart thudding wildly. He calmly continued eating. She picked it up again, fighting to gain her composure.

“Why,” she choked. She sipped her milk. “Why do you ask?”

He licked off his spoon and set it down next to his tin plate. He leaned forward on his forearms. His big head looked like a lion, fierce and wild. His eyes bored into her.

“Because it was soaked when I took it off ye. Those are powerful nightmares ye get, lassie. Ye kept me awake all night keepin’ ye safe from them.”

“You—” She gripped her spoon. “You undressed me?”

“Aye.” He nodded calmly.

“When I was asleep?” Her voice rose on the second syllable.

Another nod. She pushed back from the table, forgetting she was on the bench. It didn’t move, but she did. She fell backward, windmilling her arms for balance. He caught her before she hit the floor. He smiled down at her. Bright blue eyes stood out from the bushy red hair covering most of his face.

“I didnae notice ye were so clumsy afore yer man left. Is there sommat yer missin’ from him I could help ye with?”

She closed her eyes, unwilling to see him laughing at her. He sighed deeply. She didn’t look as he maneuvered her to sit in his lap on the floor.

“I shouldnae make fun of ye.”

He kissed her forehead. His beard and moustache tickled her, but his lips were soft. He pressed her head against his chest. Worry about the fire, Daniel’s operation, missing Ross, and how she was going to cope alone as an untried ranch wife hit against his kindness and warmth. She tried to fight them, but tears leaked out. She snuffled.

“Let it out, lass. I’ve got ye.”

* * * *

Gillis held the small, trembling woman in his arms. He cursed himself for being so clumsy and making her cry.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, her voice high from a tight throat. “I didn’t know I had them again. I thought it was over.”

“Ross told me to watch, said ye get them when ye’re alone in bed.” He rubbed his chin on her head as a cat would. “I liked holdin’ ye all night. Makin’ ye feel safe.”