September Rain (7 page)

“You need this blanket,” she said. “You likely still have some fever.” She picked up the blanket with cold-stiffened fingers and moved to spread it over him. Then she stepped over to the fire to warm her hands.

“No.”

“What?” She clasped her hands together and closed her eyes. She prayed he wouldn't say what she knew he was going to. She didn't think she could be that close to him. “Do you need something else?”

She heard the rustle of material as he turned the edge of the blankets down. She pressed her lips together and held her breath.

“You’re cold, too.”

Hallie composed her face and turned around. “You can’t expect me to climb into bed with you. I can’t. It’s preposterous.”
Please, don’t say it
.

“You’re freezing. You need to get warm.”

“But, but my skirt is wet, and so is my shirt. I’d have to undress.” She shook her head vehemently. “I can’t.”

“Come on.”

Hallie turned her back on Jacob and the inviting warmth of his bed. “You’re sick. And we’re — I mean I’m--” She shivered again.

“Come on, Hallie,” Jacob said on a sigh. “You’re cold, I’m aching all over. Trust me. All we will do is sleep.” He laughed, and realized he hadn’t laughed in a long, long time. “Believe me. I’m no threat to you.”

Hallie’s green eyes were as wide and wary as a doe’s. She looked at him, then down at her sodden clothes, and her face turned pink. Jacob stifled a groan. He might not have the energy to pose a threat to her, but he had an idea he was going to sleep damned uncomfortably if she accepted his offer.

She shivered, but didn’t move.

“Suit yourself,” he said. “But you’ll take cold if you stay in those wet clothes all night.”

Hallie looked over her shoulder at him, then back at the fire, which was waning. Jacob knew what she was thinking. She’d already used all the wood he’d stacked by the hearth, and the wood outside was wet.

She took a deep breath and began to unbutton her blouse. She peeled it off her damp arms, then slipped out of her riding skirt. She looked down at herself.

“Well,” she said with a laugh that sounded forced, “I am a spinster of a certain age. It’s not as if, I mean, I guess I’m still more covered up than the girls down at the Bliss House. Well now, that was a silly thing to say.” Her face burned. “Why would I be thinking about how they dress, or--?”

Jacob hardly heard her words. He was too caught up in the sight of her undressing by firelight. A faint memory caught him unaware, of Mary’s slight form outlined by the fire’s glow, but while it was poignant, the memory was faded and washed with time, and it didn’t interfere with his pleasure in the sight before him now.

His body stirred, and he closed his eyes and swallowed. What had he been thinking? Better to give her the bed and spend the night huddled by the waning fire than to invite the torture spending the night with her lying beside him.

Hallie was still talking. “It only makes sense for us to sleep in the same bed. It is merely an expedient solution to a problem. There is one bed and two people and only two blankets. I am much too old to be thinking about foolishness. And besides, as you say, you certainly pose no threat.”

Jacob scowled. He had said that, but right now, he was beginning to think he had more strength, more stamina than he’d given himself credit for. Which was probably a good thing, he thought wryly. Because he was going to need a lot of stamina to make it through this night.

Gathering her courage about her like an invisible cloak, Hallie turned determinedly around, only to falter when she found Jacob watching her openly. His battered mouth was quirked in a slight smile.

“What are you laughing at?” she said quickly. “Is something showing?” She looked down at herself. No. All the tiny buttons on her chemise were buttoned, and except for the one narrow strip she’d torn from the bottom, her underskirt still covered a quite respectable amount of leg.

“Do you always talk so much?” Jacob asked, his face lit by a tiny smile.

Hallie shrugged and tried to ignore the flicker of his glance to the top of her chemise and the thrill it gave her to know he couldn’t stop himself from looking. “I’ve been told I talk quite a bit.”

He patted the bed, then moved over with a groan. “Come on then. I’m cold.”

Hallie slipped gingerly under the covers, curling herself into a tiny ball on the very edge of the narrow cot. The blankets barely covered her, but she was still close enough to feel Jacob’s heat behind her.

She closed her eyes and begged God for strength. The warmth emanating from him was so inviting to her chilled body. What a wonderful thing it must be to spend every night with a husband, a man with whom one shared an abiding love. Right now, Hallie couldn’t think of anything in the world more appealing than the idea of having Jacob’s lean, strong body wrapped around her.

“You okay?” Jacob asked.

She realized she had moaned. “Of course,” she said brightly. “Just trying to relax. You should do the same.”

Jacob made a short, sharp sound, as if he wanted to laugh but had forgotten how. “Relax. . .” he drawled, making the word sound like a foreign language.

“That’s right,” she continued. “Just close your eyes and make believe you’re floating in a pond. Just floating there and watching the birds. That sometimes helps me to go to sleep when I can’t, like if I’ve drunk coffee too late in the evening or if I’ve been reading an exciting story.”

“Hallie?”

“Yes, Jacob?”

“Shut up.”

“Yes, Jacob.”

CHAPTER SEVEN

Hallie woke in the night to the sound of thunder. Her first thought was that she was dreaming. She felt safe and warm. Without moving, afraid to disturb the dream, she lay still and listened. The rain beat steadily on the tin roof, echoing outside the open window, and behind her. Jacob’s even breaths added a comforting rhythm to the sound of the rain. The September rain.

With a surge of awareness, Hallie remembered where she was. She was in Jacob Chandler’s bed, and her dream of sharing warmth with a hard, comforting body was no dream.

Instead of leaping up in spinsterish outrage, however, she lay perfectly still. She didn’t want to disturb either Jacob or her dreamlike state.

So this was it, she thought, her mouth curving up into a smile. This was how it felt to sleep with a man, to have a man’s body wrapped close around hers. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, redolent of damp earth, potato soup and warm sleep. She was a wanton, she thought drowsily, if being a wanton woman meant enjoying lying next to a man. She had nothing to compare the feeling to, but she was fairly certain it was the best feeling she’d ever experienced. She snuggled back against him, her backside fitting into the curve of his body.

His breath caught on a quick, harsh gasp.

Hallie turned her head, and found his eyes open, glittering in the dark.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, “Did I wake you?”

His mouth curled up. “Yes.”

“I’m so sorry,” she said. “I should get up.”

“No.” He put his hand out, over her ribs.

Hallie’s body tingled at his warm touch and her breath became short. “Are you--are you feeling any better?”

“Mmm.”

Hallie wasn’t sure, but she thought that was a satisfied sigh. “Are you warm enough?”

He made a sound deep in his throat and Hallie felt his chest and belly ripple, as if he’d laughed. Warmth spread through her body, the warmth of longing, of a yearning she didn’t even have a name for. She turned over onto her back and looked at Jacob. When she did, he didn’t remove his hand, but let it slide as her body turned, until it rested on her stomach. She felt his fingers curl slightly into the material of her chemise, and within her, warmth turned to fire.

It took her a moment to push words past the pounding of the pulse in her throat. “I’ve never done this before,” she said.

“I know.” The look he gave her was tender, sympathetic, and maybe just a bit filled with longing, too.

“I mean lying with a man.”

“I know.”

“It’s that obvious?” she asked. “I know I’m plain and unschooled in the ways of men, being an old maid.”

His gaze slid down her body to where his hand rested, then back up to study her face. “I can tell what kind of woman you are.”

“You can?”

He nodded. “You are a woman of principle. A woman of high moral standards.”

Hallie didn’t know whether she should feel insulted or complimented. Their heads lay on the same pillow, so close she could feel his breath on her face. She could smell him. His scent was not unpleasant, but not exactly like anything she could identify. She took a long breath.

“What are you doing?”

She smiled shyly. “I’m smelling you.”

He stared at her. “What do you smell?”

Hallie closed her eyes. “I don’t know exactly. The rain, the earth. Evergreen. Soap. Leather. Potato soup. And something else. Something that’s just--you.” She took another long breath.

As her lungs expanded, Jacob’s fingers spread over her waist. Before she could react, before she could even open her eyes, his breath grew warmer and his lips touched the corner of her mouth.

A flash of something very like pain seared through her. His lips were firm yet soft. His hand had inched up to an indefinably sensitive spot somewhere between her waist and her breast. Hallie put her hand on top of his, not even sure why. She needed to stop the feelings, or direct them, or control them.

Instead of pushing his hand away, she curled her fingers around his. She turned her face so his lips slid over hers.

“Hallie,” he whispered.

Hallie opened her mouth to say something. She could never remember what, because when she did, Jacob’s mouth covered hers.

A gasp escaped her throat, only to be swallowed up by his mouth as he lifted himself up on his elbow and his hand inched a bit closer to her breast.

She reached for him, curling her fingers around his nape, something inside her guiding her actions. She arched her neck to reach for more of his delicious, disturbing kiss.

As she did, Jacob pulled back, his eyes shining in the semi-darkness.

“What is it, Jacob?”

He remained there, still as death, hovering over her, his hand hot beneath her breast. The only movement Hallie could see was the muscle in his jaw working. Then he closed his eyes and shook his head slightly.

“Jacob?”

With a grunt and a sharply drawn breath, he pushed the blankets aside and got up.

The cold air swirled over Hallie’s heated body, shocking her. She caught at the blankets and sat up. “Jacob? What is it? Are you hurting?”

With a frowning glance at her he slid his feet into his boots and his arms into a thick coat. Then he poked at the fire, and sank down onto a fat log that had been turned up to use as a stool. His breath hissed between his teeth.

Hallie wrapped one of the blankets around her and pulled the single chair over to the fire. She stared into the red and yellow flames, instinctively aware that she shouldn’t speak. Jacob would tell her what, if anything, he wanted her to know. She pulled the blanket closer, thinking how cold and lonely she felt now, compared to the wonderful, tingly warmth of lying curled into Jacob’s side just moments before.

Jacob gripped the poker like a weapon, a weapon he could use to fend off the raw, painful feelings Hallie Greer evoked in him. He didn't regret helping her. Not when they’d beaten him, not when he’d crawled to his horse knowing something inside him was broken and bleeding, not when he’d fallen on the trail, despairing of living long enough to get back to his cabin.

But he regretted it now.

Why did she have to be so determined? How could she possibly be so innocent?

Jacob stabbed at the fire, as if to punish it for his renewed pain.

“Jacob?”

Her soft voice split the rain-soaked silence like a clap of thunder. He winced, and went on poking the fire.

“Jacob, can I get you something? Some tea? Or water?”

“No!” He closed his eyes. He hadn’t meant to shout. Well, he had, but he hadn’t meant to direct it at her.

He felt her withdraw. Without even looking at her, he knew she had shrunk inside the blanket, shrunk back, away from him. He’d hurt her. And that had always been the last thing he’d wanted to do.

“It’s been too long,” he said, still amazed that his rusty voice worked at all, that he remembered how to put words together. He rubbed his neck with the backs of his fingers.

“Jacob, you don’t have to — “

He silenced her with a wave of his hand. Staring beyond the flames, into the darkness of his past, he spoke without thinking, just letting the words come as they would.

“I died inside when my wife died,” he said. “Then I died some more when I murdered the bastards who killed her. There’s nothing left now inside--”

“You’re not dead,” she interrupted.

He glared at her and she swallowed whatever else she’d planned to say. Turning his gaze back to the fire, he continued, afraid if he didn’t speak now, he might never speak again. “There’s nothing inside me, now. Not even hatred. Nothing but the memories and the pain. I have nothing to offer.”

The flames blurred. He’d said everything he could say. He wiped his face with a shaky hand. What he’d accomplished with his ragged confession, he didn’t know. But he knew what he’d hoped to do. He’d hoped to kill the light in Hallie’s eyes when she looked at him like he was some kind of hero.

He was no hero. He was a coward.

“If you’re dead, then why don’t you lie down and die?”

Jacob lifted his head. “What?” he rasped.

Hallie sat with her blanket-encased arms wrapped tightly around her. But her back was stiff and her manner was imperious, and as he stared, she lifted one regal brow and gave him back look for look. “Why haven’t you just lain down and died?”

“Maybe that’s what I was doing when you interrupted me.”

She shook her head, and her hair, which had been fighting restraint all day and night, won its battle and fell around her shoulders like a dark, soft cloud. “You weren’t dying. You were feeling sorry for yourself, which it sounds like you’ve done for years.”