The Horseman's Bride (13 page)

“You’re as wet as I am.” Her voice was husky in the darkness of the cabin.

“So I am. We’ll both need to get warm.” Striding to the bed, Jace pulled off the quilted coverlet and the soft woolen blanket underneath. Keeping the coverlet for himself, he tossed the blanket to Clara. “Here,” he growled. “I’ll turn my back.”

And he would, Jace vowed. One look at Clara undressing and he’d be a lost soul. But even the mental picture of it, enhanced by the breathy little woman sounds she made, was driving him crazy.

Clara moved away from the stove and into the shadows. Her fingers fumbled with the buttonholes as she opened the front of her rain-soaked shirt. Somewhere behind her she could hear Tanner undressing—the scrape of his gun belt as he laid it on the chair, the thud of his boots on the floor. He seemed so distant now, as if that searing kiss on the porch had never happened.

She’d been secretly hoping for more once they were inside the cabin. But she knew him well enough to understand. He wanted her—maybe as much as she wanted him. But he was determined to make a clean break when he left her, with no ties, no false promises and no sordid memories to tarnish her future.

His intentions were noble enough. But didn’t he realize what
she
wanted? Didn’t the mule-headed man know she loved him with all her heart, body and soul? Couldn’t he tell that she wanted more than the memory of a few brief kisses?

When the rain stopped he would saddle the stallion and take her home. Even if she came back to the cabin the next day, Clara sensed he would already be gone. Tanner was a tethered eagle, ready to fly at the first slip of the leash. If he couldn’t leave by the road or the wooded fields, he would vanish into the mountains, living off the land until he could find a safe refuge. The only thing she knew for certain was that he would never come back.

Her hands were feeling warmer now. Slipping off her boots, she unfastened her jeans, pulled them down below her knees and stepped out of them. In her haste to dress tonight, she hadn’t taken time to don her underwear. Beneath her wet shirt and pants, there was nothing but chilled skin.

With the blanket wrapped and tucked beneath her arms, she draped her clothes over one of the wooden chairs and placed them near the stove to dry. Tanner was standing with his bare back to her. He had taken off his shirt and peeled the top of his long johns down past the waist of his jeans, unbuttoned to hang low on his hips. The glow from the fire caressed his golden skin, casting the contours of rock-hard muscle into rippling light and shadow. His wet hair clung to the back of his neck in flattened curls, giving him the look of a statue cast in bronze.

The sight of him roused an ache in Clara’s throat. Heart pounding, she walked across the rug to where he stood. Her hands touched his back, thumbs sliding up the muscled grooves along his spine. He quivered at her touch but didn’t pull away.

Emboldened, she slid her hands around his rib cage. His breath hissed inward as her palms settled on his chest. His nipples shrank and hardened under her fingertips.

He groaned. “Clara, so help me, girl, if you don’t want me to—”

“Hush.” Her arms tightened around him, drawing him closer. Her lips nibbled a line of kisses from the back of his neck to the hollow between his shoulder blades. His breathing had quickened and deepened. Beneath her left hand she could feel the drumming of his heart. A startling sense of power rushed over her.
She
was causing those reactions in him, making him want her. For this short, precious time, she was in control. He was hers. And she was his.

Almost forgetting to breathe, she let her hands creep downward over the flat of his belly, past the hollow of his navel to where his long johns hung over the loosened belt band of his jeans. A shudder ran down his body as she moved a finger beneath the soft fabric, skimming his hip bones.

“Do you want to touch me, Clara?” His voice was thick and gravelly. Rain beat against the roof of the little cabin. Pitch wood snapped and crackled in the stove.

“Yes.” The whisper trembled on her lips. “I want to touch all of you.”

He muttered something under his breath—a curse, perhaps, or a final protest before surrender. “Here I am. And I’m not stopping you.”

She gave the top of his jeans a slight downward push. His wet clothes slithered off his hips and down his thighs to bunch around his ankles. He stood with his back toward her, his body naked in the firelight.

Could she do this? Heart galloping, Clara placed her palms on his hip bones, slid them down and forward a few inches, then froze. “I want to,” she gasped. “But I’ve never…”

“There’s nothing to be afraid of.” He took her hands and guided them down and forward, over the slope of his pelvis, down the hollow of his groin to touch—

“Oh!” she breathed. “You’re so—so—”

Clara had seen enough of stallions and bulls to know what to expect. But she hadn’t anticipated the size of him. She could never have imagined the petal softness of the skin that covered the hardness of his straining shaft or the heat waves that rushed through her body at the first brush of her fingers.

He moaned, his hips curving toward her hand as she clasped him. She moved her fingers up and down, exploring that amazing part of him—the exquisite swelling of the head, the bead of moisture at its tip. He was breathing hard, moving lightly against her hand. Heaven help her, she couldn’t get enough of touching him, holding him.

She became aware that her own body was responding, flooding her loins with a moist, shimmering heat.
She could feel the subtle clenching, the flow of slickness between her thighs, and she knew that all this was to prepare her for him—to have him inside her.

Every womanly instinct told her that was what she wanted.

The blanket had come loose from around her body and fallen to the floor. Scarcely daring to breathe, she pressed herself against his back. His taut buttocks nested against the base of her belly. The contact sent a riffle of delicious quivers down into her thighs.

“Take me, Tanner,” she whispered. “Whatever happens, I want to remember this as the night you made love to me.”

A growl of frustration escaped his throat. “You know better than to ask that. You have your whole sweet life ahead of you. Don’t throw it away on a man you’ll never see again.”

“But I need…” The throbbing in her loins had become an ache. She was drowning in sweet, urgent sensations. “How can you give me this much and not give me the rest, Tanner? If you leave me like this…I won’t be able to stand it.”

She kissed his shoulders, the back of his neck, loving the strength of him, the coolness of his skin. “Please,” she whispered. “I’m begging you.”

He was silent for a moment. When he spoke again, his tone had softened but his voice still carried an edge. “Come to bed, then. I won’t take your virtue, but I can try to give you what you need.”

Stepping away from her, he turned. Her gaze flick
ered downward, to his jutting arousal, then returned to his face. His eyes were fiercely gentle. “Is that what you want?” he asked.

She felt the hot color flood her cheeks. “Yes,” she whispered.

He flung the blankets back on the bed, turned down the flannel sheet, then reached for her hand. Thunder shook the little cabin. Rain spattered the dark windows. “If things were different I’d stay, Clara,” he said. “I’d court you properly and ask you to be my wife. But tonight, this is all I can offer you.”

She slid between the cool sheets, gazing up at him as he stood over her. Firelight outlined his muscular shoulders and danced on his tawny hair. Cast in gold and flame, his aroused maleness took her breath away. In her wildest fantasies, how could she have imagined anyone so beautiful?

He stretched out next to her, pulling the covers over them. Turning, he rose onto his arms and leaned over her. “Don’t be afraid, love,” he murmured, bending down to brush a kiss on her lips. “Just lie still. If you move, I might not be able to control myself.”

He kissed her mouth again, softly and tenderly, then trailed a line of kisses along her cheek. His tongue flicked the hollow of her ear. The light touch triggered a little spasm in the depths of her body. Her lips parted. Her hands reached up to clasp his shoulders.

“No, let me do this.” He drew back, then bent to kiss her again, deepening the contact with his tongue, letting its tip tease the sensitive inner surfaces of her mouth.
She lay back on the pillow, letting the wild sensations sweep through her body. It was like hovering on the brink of heaven. Just when she thought she would topple into space, he gave her more, taking her higher.

As his lips nibbled their way down her throat to the hollow between her breasts, he shifted above her. Clara’s gasp became a whimper, then a broken sigh as his mouth found her nipple and began a gentle laving—licking, sucking, nipping softly. The tugging sensations in her womb deepened. She could feel her wetness dripping onto the sheet. She ached to have him inside her, making her a woman at last. But she knew that wasn’t Tanner’s intent. Moments ago, she’d told herself she was the one in charge. Now she was at his mercy. He was her guide on a journey into a new and sensual world.

Her nipples had hardened into tingling nubs. Each touch of his tongue, each gentle nip of his mouth heightened her arousal. Every cell in her body seemed to burn with desire. Her body writhed with need. She wanted him. Oh, how she wanted him.

“Please, Tanner,” she whispered. “Please—”

“Hush, love. I’ll make it all right.” His hand glided down her belly to splay over the soft tangle of hair that hid her sex. Her breath caught as he found the moist folds, and parted them to stroke the swollen bud at their center.

“Oh—” Her legs parted to open his way. Her hips arched upward, heightening the sensations that rippled through her body from that exquisite point of contact. Instinctively she began to move, thrusting against his hand, whimpering with need.

Gliding on her moistness, his finger entered her. Startled, she gasped.

“I won’t hurt you, Clara.” His voice was rough velvet. “Do you want me to stop?”

“No.” She shook her head vehemently. “Don’t…stop.” Her senses were swimming in wild, animal heat. Her body clenched around his finger as he glided in and out of her. She quivered on the brink of sensual explosion. “I want you,” she murmured. “I want—”

“You’ll be all right, love.” Withdrawing his fingers he bent and kissed her mouth. Then, brushing his lips in a line down her belly, he settled his head between her thighs.

The first brush of his tongue sent shock waves through her body. The feeling was so exquisite she almost wept. Drowning in sensation, she clasped his hair, opening to him, pulling him deeper as he licked and nuzzled. When his thrusting tongue slipped inside her, she gave a little cry. Hips bucking, she moved against him, pushing toward the brink. The tension built and built as she toppled over the edge, spiraling downward like a burning rocket until at last she lay still, spent and calm once more.

“I love you, Tanner,” she whispered, cradling his head in her hands. “I’ll never love anyone else like this as long as I live.”

Tanner shifted forward, brushing tender kisses on her lips, her cheeks, her damp eyelids but saying nothing. The rain drummed on the roof of the cabin as she curled into his arms and began to drift.

J
ace lay with Clara in his arms, his body still aching with how he’d held back. It had taken every ounce of willpower he possessed not to thrust himself into that moist, inviting honey. But now, seeing the sweetness of her sleep, he knew it had been the right decision. Clara’s innocence belonged to the man who would become her husband. He had no right to take it.

The rain had ebbed. Moonlight filtered through the thinning clouds. Water drizzled off the eaves. Outside, through the log wall, Jace could hear the stallion stirring. It was time to get up and take Clara home.

Rising on one elbow, he lingered for a few precious seconds, gazing down at her sleeping face. She was lying on her side, her body spooned against his. Her damp curls spilled over the pillow, framing the softness of her face. Her eyelashes lay like velvet fringe against her fair skin. Her ripe mouth wore the faintest hint of a smile, deepening the dimples in her cheeks.

The surge of love raised a lump in Jace’s throat. He would do anything for this tender, passionate young woman—fight for her, even die for her. But the best thing he could do now was let her go.

He weighed the wisdom of waking her up while he was still in bed, then decided against it. Clara awakening in his arms, naked and warm and muzzy, would be too much temptation to resist.

Easing out from under the covers, Jace dressed quietly, then stole outside to relieve himself and check on Galahad. The rain had dissolved into mist, leaving a sky that was just beginning to pale in the east. The first morning birds were awakening to song.

Jace swore under his breath. He’d never intended for them to stay this long in the cabin. Not that they could have left much sooner. The trail would have been too dangerous in the rainy darkness. But now it would be light by the time they reached the valley. Getting Clara home without being seen could prove to be a real problem.

By the time he was ready to return to the cabin, Jace had thought of a solution. He couldn’t say he liked it much, but it was the best guarantee of Clara’s safety.

He stepped inside to find her sitting up in bed, looking deliciously rumpled, with the sheet clutched against her chest. “What time is it?” she whispered anxiously.

“It’s morning. Time to get up,” he said. “You’re going to have to take Galahad down alone. I can’t risk going with you by daylight.”

“But what will you do?” Her eyes widened in puzzled dismay.

“I’ll wait here for you. Tonight, when it’s dark you can bring the stallion back, along with another horse to carry you home.”

“But you’ll be stranded up here until I get back,” she argued. “Surely there’s a better way. I could walk home in two or three hours.”

He shook his head. “I won’t hear of it. If McCabe and his bully boys are out there, you don’t want to be on foot. Galahad can outrun anything on four legs. He’s your best chance of getting home safely.”

“But what if something happens and I don’t make it back tonight?”

“Then I’ll just have to wait for you.” It was a calculated risk, Jace knew. Any number of things could go wrong, leaving him stranded on the mountain without his horse. But he’d made up his mind that Clara’s safety had to come first.

“I’ll leave the stallion in Grandma’s barn,” she said. “If something goes wrong and I don’t show up, you can always walk down in the dark and get him.”

“Fine. I’ll saddle him while you get some clothes on.” Jace went back outside to where he’d left his gear on the porch. Clara’s backup plan was fraught with risk, but it was better than no plan at all. For all he knew, after this escapade, her parents might lock her in her room for a week, and he couldn’t blame them. By the time she made it home, they’d undoubtedly be worried sick about her.

She came outside as he was tightening the cinch. Without a word, she ran to him and flung herself into
his arms. Her kiss was wildly passionate, as if they were embracing for the last time. “I’ll be back with the stallion,” she vowed. “I promise.”

“Just be careful, love. Don’t take any chances.” He kissed her hard, then thrust her away from him. “Get going now. I’ll be all right here until you get back.”

Clara swung into the saddle and nudged the stallion to a walk. She held her head high, staring straight ahead as if looking back at him might cause her to lose heart.

Jace stood watching her until she vanished through the trees.

Clara made the trip down the mountain in less than half the time it had taken to ride up in the dark. Except for some skittish moments on the trail, Galahad handled like a dream. Under different circumstances, riding the big stallion would have thrilled her. But this morning she had too much on her mind to think about the horse.

Every detail of last night was etched in her memory. Knowing she and Tanner could never have a life together had made their time bittersweet. Still, it had been wonderful. Her only regret was that they hadn’t made love—not, at least, in the fullest sense.

She had wanted to give her first time to the only man she’d ever love. But Tanner’s principles had denied her that. Oh, certainly he’d been concerned about getting her with child. But she would have welcomed even that—a little piece of him to hold and love forever. If only he’d understood…

But right now she had more urgent concerns. By the time she reached the farm, it would be full daylight. Her family would be looking for her, probably worried sick. She could only hope her plan to return Galahad to Jace would work.

By the time she passed the bog, the sun’s blazing edge was rising above the peaks. Deciding against a dash through the open fields, she made for the woods, circling to emerge behind her grandmother’s orchard. McCabe and his friends had seemed so drunk, they were probably sleeping off a hangover back in town this morning. Still, she couldn’t be too careful.

In the orchard, she dismounted and led the stallion to the back door of the barn. The door opened with a creak, startling her grandmother, who was seated on a low stool milking the cow.

Mary jumped up, knocking the stool over and almost spilling the milk. “My stars, child, you scared the life out of me!” she gasped. “Where have you been? Your parents are fit to be tied!”

Clara had long since learned that her grandmother could see through any lie. “I took Tanner up to the fishing cabin last night, when McCabe’s men came by,” she said. “It was the only way I knew to protect him.”

Mary righted the stool and sank onto it. “Protect him! Don’t you know he’s wanted for—”

“I know,” Clara interrupted. “He explained everything to me. He’s not a bad man, and he doesn’t deserve what they’ll do to him if he’s caught.”

“But you spent the night up there with him!” Mary’s
glasses had tumbled askew. She made no effort to straighten them.

“It wasn’t safe to come down the mountain in the rain. But Tanner’s a gentleman. You said so yourself. I’m fine, Grandma, honestly.” And that, Clara thought, was as much truth as she was going to reveal. “Look, he even lent me his stallion to ride home.” She led the big bay into a stall, removed the saddle and bridle and poured some oats into the feed bucket.

“So Tanner’s up there without a horse. What will he do if someone comes after him?” Mary demanded.

“He took that risk to make sure I got home safely,” Clara said. “If I can’t take the stallion back, Tanner will have to hike down here and get him.”

“Well, you’d best keep the horse inside the barn for now,” Mary snapped. “That weasel McCabe’s still nosing around the place. If he sees the stallion, he’s bound to get suspicious.”

“Thank you, Grandma.” Clara’s knees buckled with relief. She’d hoped she could count on Mary but she hadn’t been sure of it until now. “Let me go in the house and telephone Mama. I can tell her I’m bringing the mares home.”

“And what else will you tell her?”

Clara’s heart sank. “Please, Grandma,” she begged. “I’ll tell Mama and Papa everything in my own time. But until Tanner’s safe, can’t we keep it a secret?”

“I keep far too many secrets for you, young lady!” Mary turned back to her milking. The sharp spurts of milk in the tin pail expressed her thoughts far better
than words. But Clara knew what her grandmother wasn’t saying. For now, at least, Mary could be trusted not to betray her.

Clara trotted the mares home across the pasture, sitting bareback on Jemima while Belle followed behind on a lead rope. By now the sun had risen. Raindrops glistened on the long grass. A meadowlark caroled from one of Tanner’s new fence posts. It was going to be a beautiful day. But Clara was too churned up to enjoy it.

So far she’d been lucky. Mary was already on her side. And even the telephone call to her mother hadn’t gone as badly has she’d feared. Hannah had been upset, of course. And Clara’s story that she’d gone to check on the mares hadn’t been all that convincing. But her mother had been mercifully distracted. Twenty minutes ago they’d received a call from the railroad station that Quint and Annie had arrived days ahead of schedule, on the morning train. Judd had hitched the buggy and gone into town to fetch them. Meanwhile Hannah, Rosita and Katy were caught up in a whirlwind of cleaning and cooking. “We’ll deal with your escapade later,” Hannah had said. “Don’t think we won’t. But right now I need you here, helping us get ready.”

Clara was grateful for the reprieve. But with so many other things on her mind, she’d put the issue of her parentage aside. Now the truth would be right in front of her, hidden in the depths of twinkling brown eyes that matched her own. What was she going to do? Heaven save her, she didn’t know.

When she rode into the yard, the first person she saw was Katy, whaling the dust out of a Turkish carpet that hung over the clothesline. At the sight of her sister, Katy paused, rolling her pretty blue eyes. “You’d better change before Mama sees you looking like that,” she warned. “She’s fit to be tied. I don’t see what all the fuss is about. Uncle Quint and Aunt Annie won’t care what we’re wearing. And they won’t notice whether the windows have been washed, or if there’s dust in this old carpet!”

Clara slid off the mare’s back. “Mama will notice. That’s what matters. And since she does so much for us, we shouldn’t complain about making a little effort to please her.”

Lecture delivered, she strode toward the barn, leading the mares. And while the words had been spoken for Katy’s sake, Clara took them to heart for herself. Maybe it was time she stopped behaving like a rebellious teenager and joined the ranks of the grown-ups. At least it was time she viewed her mother with more understanding. Hannah Gustavson had grown up dirt-poor, the oldest of seven children. She’d been saved from the scandal of unwed motherhood only by Judd’s offer to marry her. No wonder she seemed so overly concerned with appearances. It was her way of convincing herself she was worthy of respect.

But Clara was still plagued by questions. How had Judd felt about marrying the mother of Quint’s child? Had he cared for Hannah or had he acted only out of duty? And why, in all these years, hadn’t anyone told
her the truth? Had there been an agreement to keep it from her, or had it been a simple matter of putting off the painful revelation, day after day, year after year, hoping it would be forgotten?

The one person Clara couldn’t fathom was Quint. Why hadn’t he answered Hannah’s letters? Why hadn’t he done the decent thing and married the mother of his child?

There was only one way to resolve that question—ask him. Meanwhile, it was urgent that she get the stallion back up the mountain to Tanner. Having Quint and Annie here could prove to be either a hindrance or a welcome distraction. Either way, one thing was certain. The next twenty-four hours would be as wrenching as any time in Clara’s life.

By the time the buggy rolled through the gate and up the drive, it was late morning. The house was spotless, a pot roast simmering on the kitchen stove and fresh bread baking in the oven. Hannah and her daughters were dressed in pretty cotton frocks to welcome their visitors.

Energetic as ever, Quint sprang out of the buggy as soon as it pulled up to the house. At forty, he was still impossibly handsome, his thick chestnut hair barely touched with gray. Bounding up the porch steps, he enfolded Clara, Katy and Hannah in an exuberant bear hug.

“I swear you ladies get prettier every year!” he boomed.

Katy blushed and giggled. Hannah returned his hug with an affectionate squeeze. “It’s good to see you, Quint,” she said with a smile. “How was your trip?”

Clara stood back a little watching them together—her mother and the man she knew to be her father. Emotions welled in her, threatening to spill over—outrage, hurt and a strange sort of wounded love. How could these two greet each other as friends after what had happened between them? How had Judd managed to treat his brother with such kindness all these years? And again, for Clara, the most tormenting question of all—why hadn’t anyone told her?

Quint turned back to help his slim, elegant wife out of the buggy. Annie was dressed in a mauve traveling suit and matching hat that set off her delicate coloring. She looked tired, Clara thought. But then, three days and nights on a train, even in a first-class sleeper, would exhaust anyone.

First Annie greeted her sister, kissing her warmly on the cheek. Then she turned to Katy. “My goodness, what happened to my little niece? She’s all grown-up, and so pretty! I can hardly believe it!”

Katy blushed to the roots of her flaxen hair and muttered something under her breath. She wasn’t used to compliments. But Clara had no reason to doubt her aunt’s sincerity. Scrubbed, combed and wearing one of the new dresses she hated, Katy really did look pretty today.

Next, Daniel, his hair slicked with water and wearing a fresh chambray shirt, strode forward to shake his uncle’s hand and give his aunt a manly hug. Both of them exclaimed over how tall he’d grown.

“And there’s my darling girl!” Annie’s embrace all
but undid Clara. The two of them had always been close, especially since their harrowing time in San Francisco. The awareness that Annie had known her secret, and loved her all the more for being Quint’s daughter, brought a rush of tears to Clara’s eyes. She blinked them away.