Blackstone's Bride (28 page)

The little boy looked down at his shoes and mumbled, “I reckon. But she won’t make a fort with me out of blankets ‘n’ stuff. Even Tom plays with me better’n she does.”

Abby glanced apologetically at the older woman, who shook her head, indicating she understood Oliver’s reluctance.

Abby looked at Jarrod. “I guess that settles it. He’ll have to stay with us tonight.”

“Not on your life.” Henrietta frowned. “A couple only gets one weddin’ night. It’s gotta be special. That doesn’t include having a willful four-year-old with ya. Y’hear me, Oliver? You can stay with me. In Joe’s room. He’ll build you a fort the likes of which you’ve never seen. You’d like that wouldn’t you?”

“Yes’m,” the boy said eagerly.

Henrietta smiled with satisfaction. “It’s all settled, then.”

“Where’s Lily staying?” Jarrod asked, his eyes narrowing. “Joe doesn’t have enough room for her too, does he, Hettie?”

Bea touched his arm reassuringly. “Lily and Tom and Katie are staying with me.”

“Good.”

Reverend and Mrs. Taylor came in with a bottle of champagne and glasses. He smiled at his wife. “Clara’s sister sent this to us and we’ve been waiting for a special occasion to open it. We’re very fond of Abby and decided this is the right time.”

When the glasses were handed out all around, the reverend lifted his and cleared his throat. “To Abby and Jarrod Blackstone. May they have a long and happy life together.”

Abby downed her drink in one gulp. The bubbles tickled her throat. The words pricked her conscience.

The night ahead would be punishment for her deceit.

Jarrod unlocked the door to their room and let Abby precede him inside. He was concerned about her. She’d gone from pale as a sheet after finding out the children wouldn’t be with them tonight to pink as a rose from champagne. Now her back was to him as she walked to the quilt-covered bed. She was so tense, she walked like a board with feet.

He turned the key to lock them inside. In the silent room, the sound was as loud as a gunshot and he saw Abby flinch.

“I didn’t know things would work out like this, Abby. I’m sorry.” He lit the lantern on the dresser.

She turned to him. “It’s not your fault. The question is what we do now. I’m too keyed up to sleep, and it’s barely sundown.”

“We could play cards.” He looked at her sheepishly. “If we had a deck. I guess sending down to the Watering Hole for one wouldn’t be such a good idea.”

“Why not?” she asked innocently as she sat on the bed.

“Because folks don’t expect us to play poker on our wedding night.”

“Oh.” She folded her hands in her lap and stared at them.

He wished she would get off that bed. It was far too easy to picture her lying back on that mattress, her red hair spread around her like fire. He could almost see her body—naked, soft, sensuous, the sheets caressing her skin as he longed to do. Curling his fingers into his palms, he reminded himself he had given his word that they would have a marriage in name only. He wouldn’t go back on it. But how would he find the strength he needed to keep his promise when he’d wanted her since she brought the children to the ranch?

From that day to this all he’d been able to think about was how beautiful she was. How much he wanted her. But if he took her, he’d fail her. He couldn’t do that. Not to Abby.

She looked up at him, then stood. “Jarrod? Are you tired?”

“Yes,” he lied.

“Then maybe we should try to get some sleep. You take the bed. I’ll sit up in the rocker.”

“You’ve got circles under your eyes practically down to your—” His gaze dropped to the feminine swell of her breasts beneath the blue cotton bodice. The material hugged her, outlining the sweet curves. His palms itched to know the weight and texture of her. He swallowed, gathering the strength to talk. “I mean, you look like you’re about to drop from exhaustion.”

“I haven’t slept very well lately. I must look awful—”

He shook his head. “You’re pretty as a sunset, Abby. All fire and golden light.”

Her eyes closed for a moment as she took in a shaky breath. “Jarrod, don’t. Please—”

“I’m sorry, Abby. I didn’t intend to say it. I mean straight out like that.”

“Don’t think I’m not flattered, because I am. It’s just that we can’t let ourselves get carried away.”

“I have no intention of getting carried away,” he said, his voice tight with irritation. “I was just stating a fact. I think you’re pretty.”

“Thank you,” she snapped back, echoing his tone.

He didn’t need her to remind him that they both had a lot
riding on their self-control. What fried him was that she looked so cool, so unaffected by him, when he was short of breath and hot all over. Because of her. He remembered her flash of eager innocence when he’d kissed her, and the way she’d wrapped her arms around his neck as if she never wanted to let go of him. If he kissed her now, would she go soft and clingy and weak-kneed? Was her indifference an act? If so, it was a good one. For all she seemed to care, he could have been her brother.

“There’s no need to be irritated with me, Jarrod. This was your idea.”

“My idea?” He crossed the distance separating them and stood close enough to smell her womanly scent, feel the heat from her body as it joined with his own and threatened to burst into flame. “It was my plan to get married, not to be cooped up inside the same four walls in this damn boardinghouse.”

“And what about this Aunt Abby business?”

“That wasn’t my idea either. Lily came up with that on her own.”

“I warned you that the children would become attached to me, to us. As a couple, I mean.” She drew in a breath. “Oliver wants us to be his mother and father. Lily wants me to be her aunt by marriage. This was a bad idea. I never should have agreed.”

“You can back out any time. But if you do, you might as well hand the kids over to Donovan.”

“You know I don’t want that.” She turned away from him. “I just didn’t figure on how dishonest and low-down I would feel.”

“Just remember, Abby, the end justifies the means. We agreed this was the best way.”

“I know, but—”

“Buts are a waste of time. We’re married.” He sighed. “I don’t want to fight with you, Abby. Not tonight.”

“Me either. You’re my friend. I hope you always will be. No matter what happens.”

“Count on it.” He grinned at her.

Abby felt the heat of that smile all the way to her toes and back. She wasn’t feeling exactly friendly at the moment. One touch and she would be in his arms.

“Since we agree that we’re friends,” he said, “I have a proposition for you.”

“What?”

“We share the bed.”

She blinked. “Share it?”

“Sure. Why not?” A teasing note crept into his voice. “You’ve got nothing to fear from me.”

“I didn’t think so, but—” A devilish expression lit his eyes. She knew she wasn’t going to like this.

“I assume I’m safe from you?” he asked.

She laughed. “Of course.”

That was a bald-faced lie. But if he could keep away from her, she certainly would do her darnedest not to embarrass herself by throwing herself at him.

“Then, it’s settled. We share the bed.” He pulled off his jacket and set it on the rocker in the corner. Then he unbuttoned his shirt and slid it off his broad shoulders.

“What are you doing?” She cleared her throat. “I mean, I know what you’re doing. H-How much are you—I mean, what do you sleep in?”

“Nothing. It’s too hot for clothes. What about you?” he asked, as cool as if they were talking about the weather.

“A—A nightgown.” She tried to keep her voice as unconcerned as his. Except for that first slip, she thought she did a pretty good job. “I need to change,” she said, looking around to see how she could manage it and maintain her modesty. More than anything, she wished there was a dressing screen in that room.

“I’ll turn my back,” he said, as if he could read her mind.

“Thanks.”

She retreated to the shadows in the corner of the room with her lawn nightgown. Facing away from him, she started unhooking the tiny buttons down the back of her dress. The ones between her shoulder blades were impossible to reach. If Lily were there, she would have had the girl help her.

But she only had Jarrod. It was either ask him, or explain why she was sleeping in her clothes—and suffer the embarrassment when he teased her unmercifully.

“Jarrod? Could you help me with the back of my dress? I can’t get the buttons.”

“Sure. Come on over here, into the light.”

She did as he asked and moved closer to the lantern on the dresser, presenting her back to him. As he worked, the backs of his fingers grazed her skin, sending sparks skittering through her. Her breathing quickened.

“There,” he said. “All done.”

“Thank you,” she answered, clutching the front of her dress to the cotton chemise covering her breasts.

He didn’t move away. He was so close, his breath stirred her hair. Abby’s heart hammered in her chest. If she had a lick of sense, she would turn to him, throw her arms around him, and press her mouth to his. She would pour all the yearning stored up inside her into the kiss. She would do everything she could to make him care about her the way she did about him, and be a wife to him in every sense of the word.

In the end, she couldn’t. She was afraid. Of him, of herself, but mostly of losing the dream she’d held on to for so long.

As she started to move back to her shadowed corner, Jarrod gripped her upper arms. Abby closed her eyes for a moment, drawing in a shuddering breath. He pulled her back against his chest, and the sprinkling of hair tickled the bare skin between her shoulder blades.

“Abby,” he said in a hoarse whisper. He rubbed his cheek against her hair, then with one hand pulled out the pins until the heavy strands fell in waves around her face and down her arms. “I’m sorry, Abby. I couldn’t help it. If I didn’t touch you, I’d—”

She turned in his arms and cupped his face, loving the way the day’s growth of beard was rough against her palms. He opened his mouth to say something, and she silenced him with the touch of her finger to his lips.

“Don’t,” she whispered. “Let’s not think. I can’t. Not now.”

His eyes filled with passion as he slowly nodded and lowered his mouth to hers. That first soft touch released something wild and primitive inside her. In seconds her breathing turned rapid and harsh. Blood pulsed through her veins and raced to every part of her, heating her skin.

Jarrod sat on the bed and pulled her between the vee of his legs. The bodice of her dress pooled at her waist. He rested his hands on her ribs, brushing his thumbs across her nipples, which were taut through the thin cotton of her chemise. The exquisite sensation bolted clear to her toes. An appreciative moan slipped from her throat.

“Did you like that, Abby?”

“Yes.” The one word was more of a satisfied sigh than anything else.

He reached up and untied the three blue satin ribbons between her breasts, then pushed aside the material until her skin was bared to him. “I knew you would be beautiful. I didn’t know how beautiful.”

“Really?” His compliment was too lovely to believe.

His gaze captured hers. “Really. Inside and out, Abby, you are the prettiest sight I have ever seen.”

She sighed, reassured by his words as she let her eyes slide closed. When he captured the peak of her breast in his mouth, she gasped at the powerful pleasure that rocked through her. “Oh, Jarrod, I’ve never felt anything so wonderful.”

He moved to her other breast and lavished attention on it. She threaded her fingers through the thickness of his hair, holding him to her as she arched into his touch. Between her legs, a strange tightening started. Her body trembled as tension built within her. This was just the beginning. She sensed it; she craved more. Leaning back, she opened her eyes and stared into his, dark with desire.

“Show me, Jarrod. I want to know everything.”

He sucked in a breath. “Are you sure, Abby? There’s no going back.”

“I know. I’m sure.”

Jarrod looped an arm around her waist and swept her onto the bed beside him. He brushed a hand down her body, pushing her clothing along with it. Abby lifted her hips, helping, pulling frantically at the material, eager to free herself to him. When she was naked, his gaze moved over her, caressing her as his hands had done just moments before.

He cupped her breast, gently. “I thought you were lovely when you came down the stairs at Reverend Taylor’s. That was nothing compared to how beautiful you look now.”

His fingers traveled over her belly, teasing and arousing as they went. With tender slowness he eased her legs apart and curved his palm over the mound of her womanhood.

“Oh, Jarrod—” She stopped and her body went still as he slipped a finger into her most feminine place. Pleasure rippled through her.

“Abby?”

“Don’t stop, Jarrod.”

More than anyone else she trusted him. His thumb brushed over the sensitive nub at the top of her womanhood. It was as if lightning crackled through her. He began to move his hand faster, rubbing, caressing, loving.

Almost of their own accord, her hips began to move in a rhythm that his hand set. She pressed herself into his touch, searching for—something. Tightness grew within her. When she thought she couldn’t stand one more second of his tender torture, radiance exploded behind her closed eyes. Her body trembled with wave after wave of pleasure. She felt as if she had splintered into a thousand pieces of light, then come back together.

When the exquisite feeling subsided, she opened her eyes and looked at him. His gaze held supreme male satisfaction at her shattering experience. There was also something strained about him, a tightness around his mouth.

With his body pressed tightly to her, she felt the rigid length of his arousal against her thigh. He needed release too.

“What about you, Jarrod? There’s more. Isn’t there?”

He nodded as he shifted uncomfortably on the mattress beside her. “There’s more.”

“Show me. Let me give something back to you. That was the most”—she stopped, searching for a word grand enough to describe the sensation he’d given her—”incredible, extraordinary, unbelievable feeling I’ve ever known.”