Home to Caroline (2 page)

They surged together, their own tempest a counterpoint to the one outside. With each hard and demanding thrust, her soft, wet body welcomed him home. No tenderness waited in these moments. Only the raw hunger of a couple parted. When she cried out her pleasure, he followed, spilling himself into her. Clinging to him, she distantly heard the patter of the rain. Both storms seemed to have abated for now.

Slowly, Travis lowered her to her feet. He held her against him with one arm. His breath ruffled her hair. “I should have been gentler.”

Caroline smiled, her first in a long while. His embrace touched her and she leaned into his warmth, his strength. Though she’d known since she’d first seen him in the field, the solid realization that she had her husband home filled her. She blinked back hasty too-emotional tears. “No, you shouldn’t have.” She stepped away from him, then pulled up her trousers and tucked in her shirt. Buttoning it, she left the top two undone, feeling a bit brazen watching her husband fasten his clothing. She crossed the space between them and slid her hand over his whiskered jaw. “We’ll have time for gentleness later.”
I hope.
Drawing a deep breath, she found Dolly in her stall, the mare not caring that her caretakers had been distracted. Luckily the mare had sense not to go out in the rain. They hadn’t even shut the barn door.

Caroline laughed. She stared at her husband, then the horses. No food. No rations. They’d left the barn door open so their plow horse could have wandered off and they hadn’t cared. Not for a moment, not so long as her husband held her, loved her. Still chuckling to herself, she put the board in place at the front of Dolly’s stall and went to fasten the barn door.

“I hope you’ll tell me what’s so funny.” He picked up his saddle bags and slung them over his shoulder.

“Nothing,” she said. “I guess we won’t plow today.”

Travis’s long strides took him to her. “No, we won’t.” Travis pulled the clasp holding her hair back and let it tumble over her shoulders. “Tomorrow.”

Right at that moment, looking into her husband’s warm, blue eyes, she knew she couldn’t tell him. Not today. Maybe not tomorrow either. Drawing a deep breath, she led him toward the house and her meager pantry.

Chapter Two

Something bothered his wife. He may have been gone for most of their marriage, but he knew Caroline well. The haunted look in her eyes should have eased with his return. Instead, it had deepened. His bags held some provisions, mostly hardtack and jerky and a small wheel of cheese his commander’s wife had given him when she’d heard he was headed home. A mixture of Confederate and Union dollars sat in his money pouch, the former likely useless. Though with the fighting between the Bushwhackers and the Jay Hawks, he had no idea which set of currency this area used. Missouri hadn’t been completely Union, and the counties down here along the Arkansas border had fought hard on the side of the Confederacy. He figured he better lock his uniform in a trunk to hide it away now that he’d taken his oath to the Union.

Travis halted just inside the threshold. The six-room cabin appeared exactly as it had the day he’d left. A rocker, covered with a quilt made by Caroline’s grandmother from Germany, sat next to the fireplace in the living room. The large oak table dominated the dining room and through the door he saw the kitchen. Down the short hall, he knew he’d find the master bedroom and a smaller room that had once been Caroline’s and her father’s office. A room, divided into two sleeping areas was off the kitchen. He dropped his saddle bags by his feet.

Home.

He drew a deep breath. All the cares eased from his shoulders. In truth, he hardly knew the woman standing beside him. They’d met and fallen in love so long ago. The letters he had written hid the horrors of war from her the best he could. Though she’d grown up on a farm, no stranger to life or death, he’d yearned to protect his virginal bride from such things. Their wedding night she’d confessed she’d never even kissed another man, and he’d held the memories of her innocence close when the war had gotten to be too much.

She needed a man who knew how to run this farm and turn it into the thriving homestead it had been. He saw the signs of neglect and the state of the fields. Farming wasn’t easy down here, but when he’d left there’d been a large flock of chickens, a milk cow and a couple of piglets traded from the neighbors. He saw Dolly, and he’d seen the broken hinge on the barn door and the gauntness in his wife’s cheeks.

“Travis?” Her question intruded on his thoughts.

“It’s good to be home.” He picked up his bags, his boots thumping against the wooden floor as he allowed her to lead him down the hall to their bedroom. His body awakened thinking of their large sleigh bed with its fine, soft mattress. Anything beat rocky ground.

“Would you like a bath? I could heat water for you.”

“Yes. Thank you.” The sudden formality chafed. They reached the threshold of their bedroom and he cupped her cheek, not wanting to be parted from her yet. “You don’t know how happy I am to see you. I’d heard tales of the Bushwhackers and the Jay Hawks, and I feared…” He let his words trail away, not wanting to dirty this beautiful homecoming with bad thoughts.

“We were fortunate. Samuel was well respected. No one dare thieve here. Even after his death, I was safe.” She touched his hand. “Let me draw your water.”

He held her for a moment longer, reminding himself she’d be down the hall. He wanted to ask when her brother had died. She’d mentioned his coming home in one of her letters, and his wounds. He’d seen so many men robbed of their youth and life during the war. He hated to think about her brother as one of them. But he hated to think about her being all alone even more.

The weight of his saddle bags drew him into their bedroom. She darted down the hall, her steps light. The pants hugged her slim hips and molded to her legs; she must have made them. The high, dusty boots—he thought he’d seen a hole in the toe of one—emphasized her leanness and gave her a coltish look. There was nothing boyish about the way she filled out his shirt or the waves of her hair against her back. To keep this farm running without Samuel or her father, she had to have the strength and determination of ten men, and he admired her even more. He set his packs on the floor, not wanting their grime on the bed.

Worry about the state of the farm, his lack of preparedness to work the land and the haunted look in his wife’s gaze kept him in the bedroom. He should offer to haul water for her, though there was a pump on the back porch. He thought of his father and wondered what the old man would think of him now, wishing he knew a farmer’s trade. His wife—his beautiful, strong, stubborn and determined wife—deserved much more than a man who’d longed to be a gambler his entire life. Then the war had come and he’d met Caroline…

A little while later, Travis stepped into the dining room, the tub steaming next to the wood stove. Though late spring meant no frigid mornings, he suspected Caroline had left the tub there so she wouldn’t have to carry water as far. He appreciated her work, and when he looked up, he saw his wife waiting for him.

“I set a towel and a bar of soap on the chair for you.” Scented herbs perfumed the air. Caroline hovered next to the tub. “I have mending waiting.” She darted around the tub.

“Don’t go.” Standing only in his drawers, he waited.

Caroline licked her lips, her gaze taking in his bare chest. No doubt she saw how much he wanted her.

“It’d be nice to have someone to wash my back.” He unfastened the buttons on his drawers and pushed them down. Heedless of his nudity—Caroline was his
wife
after all—he stepped into the warm, fragrant water.

Travis bit back a groan of pleasure as the warm water lapped at his calves. He grabbed the sides of the tub and sat down. When at last he rested in the tub, his legs bent at a tight angle to make sure he fit, he glanced across the kitchen at his wife. She stared at him, her eyes wide as she took in his naked form.

“You were hurt.” She rushed across the space separating them, her boots clipping against the floor. Kneeling by the tub, she reached for the long, angry scar that ran across his side. She traced it with her fingers.

Travis stopped the back and forth sweep of her touch. The worry and fear in her eyes brought him the all-too-potent reality of war for those left behind. “I’m fine now. It was just a scrape.”

“It looks awful.” She gasped. “You were shot, weren’t you?”

“Yeah.” He’d never lie to his wife and especially not today. “I was.” He brought her fingers to his lips and kissed them. “I’m fine now. It grazed me. Nothing more.” He leaned forward, water sloshing around his hips.

“You sure? You never said. Your letters.” Her breath shuddered. “I heard stories about army hospitals. Samuel said so many men were dying in the hospitals, it seemed as bad as any battlefield.” She nibbled on her lower lip, then reached for the soap and wash cloth, wetting them both in the tub. She worked up a lather and started washing his chest.

“I’m sure. With you touching me like this, I’ve never felt better.”

She met his smile with a tentative one of her own. “Let me bathe you, my war hero.” Her voice purred, and Travis gave himself over to his wife’s ministrations.

She moved with a languid grace, sliding the cloth over his chest. The water sloshed against him, warm and fragrant with a hint of lavender. It warmed his heart to imagine his wife had put the herbs there for him, though admittedly after days on the road he probably needed them. Her hand dipped below the water, the cloth floating to the surface as her fingers brushed against his erect cock.

His muscles tensed, his body all too ready to repeat what they’d done in the barn. She teased, circling him for a moment, before raising her hand to grab the cloth again and rub it against the bar of soap. “I’ll take care of your back.” She rose to her feet. At some point she must have splashed water because his shirt was plastered to her. The swell of her breasts against the wet fabric made his mouth go dry. He wanted her now, spread beneath him on the plush bed and surrounded by all the softness and frippery she deserved.

He leaned forward and she went to his back. She didn’t speak as she soaped him, then used her hand to slosh water to rinse him. The gentle ministrations spoke of her love for him, a love that he wasn’t sure he deserved. He closed his eyes and took deep breaths.

When his bath ended, she dried him just as carefully and together they went to the bedroom. There, he watched as she lit a lamp, the wick turned low, then turned down the corner of the comforter. It wasn’t dark yet and he glanced at his packs. The food stored there would hold them for this night.

“Caroline,” he whispered and let the towel she’d wrapped around his waist drop.

Her breath caught. Even in the shadows, color stained her cheeks. Her shirt had dried; he had no doubts her nipples were hard little buds begging for his lips and tongue. He wanted her. Plain and simple, man to woman. The taste he’d had in the barn and the tease she’d given him in the bath were mere samples of a bountiful main dish.

Travis crossed the room to her, ready now to give her the night of loving she so deserved and he longed for. He reached for her shirt, sliding the buttons free of their holes. As each one opened, the shirt bared more of her creamy skin until the material revealed her from neck to navel and barely clung to her erect nipples. His cock, already half-hard, became fully erect at the sight.

She said nothing, though her breathing quickened as he pulled the tails of the shirt free from her trousers. He slid it from her shoulders, letting the material pool on the ground. He’d removed petticoats and corsets, each beribboned and decked with lace. Nothing compared to sliding his shirt off his wife’s shoulders.

She unbuttoned her own pants. Sometime during his bath she must have removed her boots and socks. The sight of her small, bare feet moved him. When the material slid down her legs, revealing her in all her naked glory, he tangled his fingers with hers and pulled her forward. She stepped free and as naked as he.

Travis pulled Caroline against him. He swept his hand down her back, cupping her sweet, round behind. That his wife was a bit more angular than he’d remembered didn’t bother him. Somehow, they’d put enough food on the table to feed them both. Right now, he wanted to lose himself in his wife’s charms.

He brought her to the edge of the bed and lowered her to the mattress. The comforter had never felt so soft, the bed so forgiving as it did in this moment. He stretched out next to her, running his fingers along her side. He cupped her breast and slid his thumb across her nipple. Then, he leaned forward and kissed her.

Emotion poured into the kiss. A long, leisurely exploration, his tongue sliding past her lips to enter her mouth. She parted, inviting him deeper. He’d never tasted anything as sweet as his wife was right now, and when he pulled her close to him, she made a little moaning noise in the back of her throat. His cock swelled. He willed his body to behave. She deserved to be loved like the fine woman she was, a night of pleasures and secret delights.

Her muscled leg slid along his and he delighted in the sensation. His hand grew rougher on her breast, kneading the flesh. He toyed with her nipple, squeezing gently until she arched her hips against him. Damn, he wanted to be inside her, feel her tight channel clamp around his shaft. If he filled her belly with his seed tonight and made a child, it could be no greater homecoming for him. They parted for breath and then his lips were on hers again.

Caroline’s hands stroked his arms. She grabbed his shoulders as if to anchor herself in the storm he caused inside of her. The kiss ended once more. “Travis,” she whispered, her voice rich and husky with desire.

“Mmm, Caroline.” He nuzzled her neck, wanting to draw the ripe berry of her nipple into his mouth. She tasted fine, crisp and clean in spite of a hard working day. When he reached her breast, he kissed it.

She cried out. Her fingers speared into his overlong hair and held him tight to her breast. He released her nipple, then drew a deep, shuddering breath. His control was slipping away from him. He needed to go slow. Caroline deserved that he go slow.

“Please.” The single word snapped his resolve. Returning to her breast, he suckled her. He slid his fingers along her legs and found the curls at their juncture. A quick slide of his finger showed her wet with desire. He easily found the center of her pleasure, circling it with a fingertip. Her hips bucked like a wild thing. There would be no going slow, not this time.

Caroline’s legs spread. He held himself over her, braced on his arms. Moving between her legs, he looked down at her—his wife. “You’re beautiful. So damn beautiful.”

Caroline cupped his cheek with her hand. In the dim light, tears might have glistened in her eyes, but he couldn’t be sure. “So are you.”

He leaned down to kiss her, not sure why she’d become misty-eyed unless her heart had swelled as his had knowing that he was home and in her arms again. The kiss gentled. He paused, drank in the sight of his wife once more, then lowered his hips until his cock nudged at her wet sex.

He slid inside until he was buried completely within her. The wet heat of her body surrounded him like a welcoming blanket. Unlike their heated coupling in the barn, he waited, savoring the moment. From the little purrs she made beneath him, he could tell Caroline was enjoying this too. He began to move, taking his time, loving her with long strokes as he should have their first time together since his return.

Caroline arched to meet each thrust. Her arms tight around him, she held him against her, bringing him back to the safety and comfort of her body. Their pace quickened. Not much, but enough so that he knew he grew close to release. He kissed her, wanting to bring her to the crest, if not before him then alongside him.

She tightened her inner muscles around him. Drawing him into her body, her heels pressing against the backs of his calves, she enveloped him. Mewling cries escaped her throat. Travis gritted his teeth. He held out, wanting her to peak first.

And then, she came. Her cry split the air as her sheath trembled around his cock. Her panting breaths filled the night air, and when at last she stilled beneath him, she lay replete.

Travis thrust once more. He stiffened, a boiling pressure building at the base of his spine. With a cry, he spilled himself into her, giving her all he had—heart, soul and seed. The muscles trembled in his arms, yet he held himself off of her, not wanting to crush her whipcord frame. She kissed his cheeks, his lips. Then, she slowly drew him down beside her and nestled in the crook of his arms, her head against his shoulder.