Charlene Sands (8 page)

“Yeah,” he said, intently checking the work he’d done on her face. Then he lifted his shotgun and walked toward the door. “But most might say it’s to prevent snow blindness.”

Realization dawned. Emma felt quite the fool. “Bodine!”

His laughter rang out as he opened the door and walked out.

Bodine set his dried slicker onto the table, then methodically placed each one of his guns down. He sat on the kitchen chair as Emmy cooked up the evening meal, her appealing voice once again flowing with a soft tune. This time he listened to the lyrics as he lifted his revolver, checking it over, reloading and wiping it down.

Emmy continued to sing and Bodine continued to clean and check his weapons, but her voice beseeched him, the clarity and honesty sweeping aside his misgivings. The songs brought back memories of times with his mother bending down, singing a soft, soothing tune to ease away two little boys’ fear.

His mother held them and sung her songs. Though her voice was kind and loving, she hadn’t the flawless quality that Emmy had. And yet, he sat there, reminded of a better time in his life, when all his mother had to do was smile sweetly and stroke his hair, bend to kiss his head and then that of his brother to make all bad things go away.

Bodine examined his derringer and next he lifted his shotgun carefully, inspecting the loads before setting them all aside.

He rose then, moving to the window to view fading sunlight. The snow had melted. He wished like hell he could go outside again. Logs needed splitting. He should be replacing the firewood in Big Ed’s stack. And nothing would make him happier than to release his frustration by wielding an ax and splitting logs. But he doubted his healing shoulder could withstand the blows to the wood block.

Emmy’s voice and the songs she sang fully mesmerized him. They soothed and charmed, gripping him in ways he’d never before experienced. He couldn’t tell her to stop. It would be a travesty to quiet such talent. Her gift was rare.

He wished he had a way to vent his hunger and ease the ache growing inside.

Tomorrow they’d be on their way and both would focus on their goals.

But there was still tonight.

He turned to Emmy. She busied herself at the stove, wiping her hands on a rag, putting together the evening meal as she lifted her voice in song. The purity of the sound beckoned and he could no longer deny what he wanted.

She spun around. “Bodine, do you want preserves with your…”

She looked deep into his eyes and
knew.

He stood looking at her, unable to hide his intent. His desire raged. He couldn’t tear his gaze away.

She dropped the rag in her hand.

“Bodine,” she whispered, her beautiful eyes unblinking.

“Don’t…” he began, taking a deep swallow. “Don’t come over here, Emmy. Not if you know what’s good for you.”

She regarded him a moment. “I know what’s good for me.”

“Fine. Turn around. Finish cooking.”

He shouldn’t want her. She was a spoiled rich girl, a runaway who didn’t know how hard life really was. Petite and thin as a willow, Emmy wasn’t his kind of woman. But her dark eyes held trust; her enchanting voice rang out with faith, and her lithe body enticed him. Everything inside pushed and pulled from desiring her.

She took a step toward him.

“Don’t,” he warned again.

She took another step, then another. There was no doubt on her expression, no hesitation as she approached.

And then she was toe-to-toe to him, looking up into his eyes, her face open and full of longing.

Bodine closed his eyes briefly. “Damn it, Emmy.”

And he wrapped her into his firm embrace, crushing her body to his, claiming her mouth in a searing, hungry kiss.

H
is beard was rough against her skin. Emma delighted in the feel of his stubble brushing her face. He held her tight, as if letting go would somehow harm them both. She delighted in that, as well. His lips demanded responses, his kisses potent and heady. Emma opened for him, allowing his tongue to sweep inside the hollows of her mouth.

She made a little sound of pleasure and felt his body tighten. Her belly pressed against his manhood. Emmy knew no fear, only a deep curiosity and a prayer that the emptiness inside her would soon know fulfillment. He kissed her again and again, his mouth devouring hers, his lips trailing kisses all over her face only to return to her mouth once again.

There was nothing gentle or tender in the way Bodine claimed her. He was a man who took what he wanted. Right now, he wanted
her
and Emma couldn’t deny him any more than she could deny her own yearnings.

She’d never met a man like Bodine. Strong. Courageous. Hardheaded. He’d risked his life for her. No one had ever made her feel so special.

Could she be in love with him?

The question complicated her life, but now, in the moment, she could only feel his passion and return her own. Though her experiences with men were limited, Bodine led the way and she followed, taking his cues and, hopefully, pleasing him the way he did her.

He moved his hands down to her shoulders, caressing her, then stroked her arms up and down, all the while looking at her with piercing hunger. “Emmy, you shouldn’t have come to me,” he rasped out.

Confident from the heated look in his eyes, Emma backed up a step. “Shall I go then?”

Bodine’s lips curled. “Just try.” He gripped her derriere and brought her up against him again. His manhood pressed over the core of her womanhood.

“Bodine,”
she whispered, nearly breathless. She trembled from sensations whirling out of control.

He kissed her again, but she wanted so much more now. She laid both hands on his chest, the wool under her palm sizzling hot. She unbuttoned his shirt and he helped, until both his shirt and undershirt were gone.

He took her hands and laid them flat out on his chest. “Touch me, Emmy.”

She
had
touched him. Many times, when she thought he was dying. She’d cared for him. And prayed for his life. But this time was different.

She wove her fingers into fine curling hairs on his chest, moving her hand over sinew and muscle. Her heart pounded at the power she held. The sheer force of this man was hers now, to touch and explore. She stroked him and he watched her, his face unmasked, his eyes blazing.

She found his scars and tenderly touched each one. Then she reached up to kiss the hollowed spot where the bullet had gone through. “Sorry, Bodine.”

And she kissed the spot where he’d been knifed from her would-be attackers. “For this, too.”

Bodine grabbed her hair and tugged it back so that she was forced to look up into his eyes. “Don’t pity me, Emmy.”

“I don’t pity you,” she whispered, but Bodine washed away the words with a kiss that stole all of her breath.

On a brave move, Emmy stepped back, retreating somewhat. Bodine looked at her in puzzlement until she began unbuttoning her dress. When he understood, he smiled and once she slipped her gown off, exposing her bare arms and shoulders and her thin chemise, he lifted her up and carried her to the bedroom. “You’ll freeze.”

She laid her head onto his chest and studied his strong profile—high cheekbones stretching across a handsome face. “I won’t. You’ll keep me warm.”

Bodine filled his lungs. “I can promise that.”

He threw the buffalo robe aside and set her onto the bed, removing her shoes and stockings and then his own. He climbed in and she immediately reached for him.

He took her into his arms and kissed her soundly on the lips.

Angling her body toward his, Emma wove her fingers through his hair, toying with the curls at the nape of his neck. She relished the feel of the thick silky strands that flowed through her hands. The intimacy she shared with him struck her anew. Every nerve ending rejoiced. She tingled from head to toe with the sensations rushing forth, unfamiliar yet so welcome.

Bodine lay back and she followed as he maneuvered her atop him. She straddled his torso, her backside touching his belt buckle and the trousers he had yet to shed. But even through the buckskin pants, the swollen tip of his arousal pressed her.

Bodine let go a tortured groan, but his expression spoke of promise not pain. He reached up to cup her breasts, his hands molding their shape. He fondled her until she thought she’d surely die from the sharp pleasure, and then he brought her chemise down and looked at her nearly naked form, his stormy eyes gleaming.

Emma had always wished to be more womanly, taller and fuller in size, but in this moment Bodine made her feel she was more than enough for him. She would always be grateful to him for that.

He pulled her chemise down, baring her breasts, her nipples taut with desire. Another deep, rich groan escaped Bodine’s throat as he gripped her shoulders, lowering her. His mouth rounded on her breast, his tongue stroking her and moistening the aroused peaks. Quick lightning arrowed down to her woman’s core; everything below her waist tightened and heated.

“Bodine,” she pleaded.

“Mmm?” He was intent on his ministrations and Emma couldn’t fault him. He pleasured her in ways she would never have imagined.

“I need…
more.
”

He kissed her breast and murmured, “Be patient, sweet Emmy. More is coming.”

Then in one swift move he flipped her over and she landed on her back. She looked up at him, seeing his strained desire, the driving hunger he seemed to barely keep at bay.

Emma knew no such control. She wanted to be loved by Bodine. Every cell cried out for him to take her.

He slid his hand up her thigh, riding the material of her chemise up as well. His hand slipped between her thighs and parted them, and then he inched higher. Her body reacted. She arched up, ready for his touch.

“Oh,” she gasped, when his fingers met with her most sensitive region. She parted even more and he stroked her, his fingers rough against her tender skin.

“Ah, Emmy,” he murmured, sliding his fingers back and forth in her wet heat. “You’re passionate.”

Lost now, Emma knew no shame. She responded to Bodine’s every kiss, his touch that shot hot embers throughout her body. She lifted up and rocked back and forth, wanting.

And the wanting mounted to unfathomable heights. Emma rose up and cried out. She splintered and sparked, everything inside flamed, like an explosion of bright lights.

Then Emma went still, relishing the aftermath, finding certain satisfaction in the bliss she experienced.

“Emmy,” Bodine grated out, kissing her.

She clung to him and desire returned, feeling his arousal, knowing his completion would also be her own. “Take me fully, Bodine.” She reached for his buckle and he helped her unfasten his belt.

Lola’s loud, frantic whinnying caught them both by surprise. They froze and listened. The mare snorted now, clearly agitated.

Thump, thump, thump.

“Something’s out there,” Emma said, alarmed. “The Indians came back!”

“Doubtful,” Bodine said, rising quickly. “But something has got Lola troubled. She’s kicking the stall.”

“You’re not going out there.” Raw panic seized her.

Bodine grabbed his boots and yanked them on. “Got to.” Emma rose from the bed, covered by the fur robe and followed him, watching him throw his arms through his shirtsleeves, buttoning up in a hurry. Then he put on his coat and took hold of the shotgun.

“What if it’s a bear?” Emma’s fear ran rampant. She didn’t want Bodine going out there, yet she knew he would. He didn’t run from danger.

“Then I’ll shoot it, Emmy.” He plopped his hat on his head. “Don’t worry.”

Emma bit her lip, her heart pumping hard against her chest. “Be careful.”

Bodine opened the door and gave her one quick glance. “Always.”

Bodine couldn’t hold the lantern, preferring two hands on his shotgun. But he had sharp eyes and good instincts. He could focus his eyes in the dark better than some could during daylight hours, the talent helping to keep him alive this long.

It wasn’t far to the small barn, only twenty feet, but before leaving the steps, he waited and listened. The thumping sounds came from the side he couldn’t see. With shotgun lifted, he walked slowly toward the barn, Lola’s panicked sounds louder now that he was outside. He leaned his back against the barn wall, then quickly stepped around the corner.

Stunned wolf eyes stared back at him.

Bodine aimed his shotgun, ready for the attack.

But the wolf dashed off into the brush.

Bodine took a shot. Then another, certain the powerful blasts were enough to keep the wolf from returning.

“Bodine!” Emma shrieked from the window.

“Just a wolf, Emmy,” he called to her.

“Just a wolf?”
Her stunned voice rose in volume.

Bodine had to smile. Emmy had no business traveling from town to town in search of anything, much less an outlaw father. She’d been sheltered and protected all of her life. Bodine couldn’t wait to see her home safely. There were far too many pitfalls for a young lady to encounter and Eloisa Rourke had been extremely wise in hiring him to look after her.

But Bodine wished she’d chosen someone else for the job. Emma Marie Rourke had surprised him with her gumption, her soulful eyes, her enticing voice and her determined spirit. He’d been shocked to find himself drawn to her, desiring her and tonight, almost making a damned buffalo-size mistake with her.

Lola’s interruption could have come sooner, but at least Bodine hadn’t claimed Emmy’s virginity. He wouldn’t give in to temptation again. That much he knew for certain.

He opened the barn door and found Lola breathing hard. “It’s okay, girl.” He went over to her, careful to approach. She was spooked, and rightfully so. Bodine hadn’t noticed before, but there was a hole the size of a saddlebag at the back of her stall. Now that the snow had melted, the gap was noticeable and made Lola vulnerable to a hungry wolf catching the scent of horseflesh.

He stroked her with care, speaking soft words, calming the frightened mare down from outside the stall. “I’ve got to get in here,” he said to her.

He found a good size plank of wood and moved alongside the wall while keeping his voice low and calm. Lola accepted him as he entered the stall. He set the plank in place, securing it with a mound of straw. “There.”

Lola watched him, her round brown eyes still clouded with doubt. He stroked her once again, speaking softly, before exiting the stall. His jittery mare had tired of the confinement and he couldn’t blame her.

He was glad they’d be on their way tomorrow. Being trapped with a woman should have been a pleasant experience; instead, he’d been injured, nursed back to health and then tortured by a surprising sprite of a girl, who’d been gifted with a voice that could captivate and charm him into forgetting his pledge and his honor.

Bodine bade farewell to Lola. Protecting her had been easy. He looked toward the cabin and hoped that Emmy had fallen asleep. She needed protecting, too, but she posed a more difficult challenge. He was fairly certain he could keep her safe from harm, but could he protect her from her own unveiled passion?

Could he protect her from his own?

Bodine entered the cabin, tossing his hat and removing his coat. He set the shotgun down, still hoping Emmy had fallen asleep, though he knew that would be more fortunate than realistic.

“A wolf, Bodine?”

She stood in the bedroom doorway, covered by the robe, her big brown eyes beseeching him.

“Yeah. A wolf. Trying to get to Lola.”

“Did you kill it?”

Bodine hesitated half a second before lying through his teeth. “Yeah, it’s dead.”

What was one more lie? He’d been lying to Emmy since he met her, and if this lie would ease her mind and give her some peace, he was willing.

“And how is Lola?”

“Mighty flustered. The wolf tried getting to her through a gap in the barn. I fixed that and managed to calm her down. She’ll be fine.”

“That’s good, Bodine. Now come back to bed and calm me down.” Emmy dropped the robe and the fur settled at her feet. She stood bare but for the sheer gossamer fabric that covered her body.

Bodine braced himself, trying to ignore the picture she made standing there, offering herself to him once again. This time he had to reveal part of the truth. It was the only way he could avoid temptation, keep his pledge and protect her. “I’m not coming back to bed.”

“Why not?” she asked quickly, her expression suddenly changing from coy to suspicious. “What happened out there?”

Bodine struggled, taking in a ragged breath. “It’s not what happened out there, Emmy. It’s what happened in here.
Before.
”