The Romancing of Evangeline Ipswich (15 page)

“You are a terrible tease, Hutchner LaMontagne!” Evangeline scolded, blushing to the very core of her being. Quickly she stepped off the table, onto the chair, and then from the chair to the floor, carefully glancing about just in case any more morbid, horrifying spiders were lurking about. “You’re no gentleman at all.”

“What do you mean?” he asked, feigning ignorance. “I killed the spider, didn’t I?” he chuckled.

“Yes, you did. And thank you,” Evangeline said, nodding at him. “But you shouldn’t have taken advantage of my…my state of undress and…and looked at my legs the way you did.” Evangeline wondered if Hutch really did think her legs were beautiful. She certainly hoped he did. Still, a proper woman was bound by society to feign horror at having had a man see her legs.

Hutch shook his head and laughed. “Evangeline, when in the world are you gonna get it through your head that I’m your husband?” he playfully reminded her. Striding over to stand directly in front of her, he took hold of her shoulders, smiled, and said, “I’m your husband, your man…forever. I could stand here, strip you down to nothing, and look at you all day long if I wanted to, and no one would fault me for it.”

When Evangeline gasped with astonished chagrin, Hutch simply laughed again, however, adding, “Oh, and you’re more than welcome to do the same to me anytime you want.”

The thought of Hutch in any more of a state of undress than he already was—usually parading around in nothing but his trousers and boots—was so startling to Evangeline that she found she couldn’t speak.

Therefore, having either misunderstood her silence as approval of the idea or simply wanting to mercilessly taunt her again, Hutch said, “Just say the word, my beautiful, very blushing bride.” His voice was lowered to an outrageously provocative voice. He then proceeded to unfasten his belt, strip it from his trouser waist, and toss it to the table, as well. “Just say the word, and I’ll—”

“Oh my! No!” Evangeline gasped. “I swear, Hutch! What is your obsession with nudity?”

But Hutch only laughed low in his throat and winked at her. “It ruffles you bloomers, honey, that’s all. I like to see you bashful and nervous. You’re extra delicious when you’re like that—vulnerable and girly, instead of so proper the way you sometimes feel you have to be.”

Even for the fact that she was so casually attired—that her hair was down and her feet bare—Evangeline straightened her posture with an air of defiance. “What do you mean? I
am
proper.”

“No, you’re not,” Hutch countered. “You’re fun and frivolous.” He leaned closer and bent down until his face was level with hers. “You’re passionate and playful, just like me.” He straightened his own posture then. “But you weren’t expecting to have to marry over my sister’s deathbed the way you did. It kind of took the fun out of it for you—turned the fairy tale wedding all little girls dream about into a…well, sort of a mess. So I don’t think it’s ever really sunk into your brain that we really are husband and wife.”

Evangeline found herself shaking her head, her brows arched in astonishment. “It sunk in. I mean, I’m living with you, aren’t I? I wouldn’t be living in your house with you, and sleeping next to you in your bed, if it hadn’t sunk in.”

“I don’t know,” he attested. “For instance,” he began then. Evangeline stiffened as his hands moved to her waist—as he pulled her body against his. “Right now, you’re thinking you like me. But part of you doesn’t believe I’m really your husband…being that the reverend married us in less than a minute, in truth.”

Evangeline’s breath felt labored; her heart was racing like a train engine! He was so very, very handsome! So alluring—so wholly seductive! And every inch of Evangeline wanted to reach out, throw her arms around his neck, and beg him to kiss her—to love her as thoroughly as she loved him! But she just couldn’t. For some reason, her body wouldn’t obey her mental commands to reach out and take Hutchner LaMontagne for her own.

“I don’t know much about much,” Hutch said then. “But I do know a fair amount about you, Evangeline.” His eyes narrowed, smoldered with mischief. “You forget that I watched you grow up from just a little thing to a young woman. And now…now you’re a woman—full-grown, beautiful, and so enchanting as to make a man’s head spin near clean off his body…especially mine.”

Evangeline felt tears welling in her eyes. Oh, how desperately she wanted to freely express her feelings for him—to reveal the tenderness of her heart to him and let him keep it as his own!

Yet it
was
hard to believe—to believe that Hutch could care for her the way she cared for him—especially when he’d basically been forced to marry her.

Unexpectedly then, Evangeline found herself asking, “What do you want from me, Hutch?” If he just told her that all he really wanted was for her to give herself to him physically, maybe she could find a way to do that for him and still protect herself from a measure of heartache in knowing he hadn’t chosen her. Maybe if he told her exactly what he did want from her, she could endeavor to win his heart and sincere affections. “Do you want me to…to…” She nodded toward their bedroom.

But Hutch suddenly took her face in his hands, gazing into her eyes with a wanton expression, yes, but also an expression of deep emotion and caring. It so startled Evangeline, and she stood stuck to the place she was, trembling with a sudden wave of desire washing over her.

“I just want you to trust me, to accept me,” he mumbled against her ear. “I want you to know that I married you, willingly…and that I’m your husband…and that I want you for my wife.”

Evangeline felt warm all over—warmer than she’d ever felt before in all her life. She felt her body relax a bit against his and found the courage to say, “I
do
know we’re legally married, you know.”

“Do you?” he asked, kissing her cheek again.

Evangeline smiled—sighed with momentary contentment.

Contentment until Hutch added, “Well then, why don’t you pucker up and give me some sugar? After all, you did just admit that you know we’re married. I swear, Jones gets more attention from you than I do.”

“Jones does not get more attention from me than you do,” Evangeline told him.

“Yes, he does,” Hutch corrected, grinning at her. “You’re always petting him, talking to him in that sweet voice of yours.”

“Well, fine then,” Evangeline said. “I’ll try to give you more attention than I give to Jones, from here on out.” She smiled, reached up, and patted Hutch on the top of the head.

Hutch rolled his eyes and shook his head.

“Oh, and Jones likes when I do this too,” Evangeline giggled, reaching behind both of Hutch’s ears and gently scratching him there. “Satisfied?” she teased.

“No,” Hutch mumbled, still grinning at her.

His patience was wearing thin. And besides, Hutch could see that Evangeline cared for him. He could feel it in her touch—even the way she teasingly scratched behind his ears.

“Evangeline,” he began. He couldn’t keep from staring at her mouth. He’d meant to tell her what he’d been up to during the past week—about the telegrams. And yet part of him wanted her to fall in love with him then and there, before he told her his plans.

“Yes?” she asked, staring up at him with an expression of invitation. But an invitation to what?

She wanted to kiss him—to fairly smother him with kisses! To be wrapped in his arms, held against his strong, warm, protective body. But she didn’t know how to begin! Evangeline could see in Hutch’s eyes that he did care for her. It was all so ridiculous, the discomfort she felt. She knew she could trust him and that he would eventually love her—if he didn’t already. And by the expression in his beautiful eyes, she was beginning to believe that he did.

Hutch sighed, grinned a little, and said, “It’ll keep.”

Disappointed—for she had hoped Hutch had been about to confess to her that he loved her—Evangeline said, “Well, do you want your breakfast now?” After all, what else could she say? And she knew Hutch must be hungry.

Hutch grinned—the sort of roguish grin that caused Evangeline’s heart to quiver with delight. “Yes,” he said. “I do want my breakfast.”

And then—oh, blessedly then—it happened. Taking her face between his hands once more, Hutchner LaMontagne kissed Evangeline—thoroughly kissed her! In fact, his kiss was so affecting to her entire being that she was struck breathless and dizzy and simultaneously whisked into such a flurry of pleasurable emotions and physical elation that she quite thought she would faint for a moment.

This kiss was not the quick, fierce sort of kiss that Evangeline had experienced when Reverend Lloyd had pronounced her and Hutch married, nor was it the soft, lingering kiss she’d experienced from him just minutes before in front of Heather Griffiths. This kiss was wildly passionate—hot, moist, and invigorating to her very core! This kiss was driven, wanton, and busting with barely bridled emotion!

Over and over and over Hutch’s mouth worked to blend with Evangeline’s! And over and over and over Evangeline’s worked to blend with his—until such a fever of fervor was burning between them that Evangeline thought that if the house were burning down around her, she wouldn’t care—wouldn’t pause their ardent exchange.

Never had Evangeline known such a kiss! Oh, she’d been witness to similar moments between her sisters and their husbands—even between her father and Kizzy. But to experience it with Hutch—oh, even her dreams of him had not been near to what the reality was!

Another knock on the door disturbed their rapture, however.

“Dammit!” Hutch growled as he released Evangeline, stormed to the door, opened it, and nearly shouted, “What?”

It was Mrs. Swayze, and her eyes bugged out like a mouse caught in a trap as she studied Hutch from head to toe.

“Oh…oh my!” she breathlessly exclaimed. The doctor’s wife blushed, gulped, and looked past Hutch and his magnificence to where Evangeline stood behind him. “Pardon me, Mrs. LaMontagne,” she began—her eyes darting back to Hutch’s chest, her blush deepening. “But Patrick needs me to assist in another birthing, and I thought you might want to run over to be with Mrs. McKee and the baby while I’m gone. Though I do think she’s quite on the mend. She seems more herself this morning.”

Mrs. Swayze gulped again—stared at Hutch’s chest once again.

“Of course,” Evangeline said. “I’ll go right over. Thank you, Mrs. Swayze. Thank you for everything. I really did need a good night’s sleep.”

“I’m sure you did,” Mrs. Swayze said, hurriedly turning and fairly racing down the steps.

Knowing by the expression of frustration on Hutch’s face that the passionate, loving moment between them had been ruined by Mrs. Swayze’s sudden appearance and announcement that Jennie was alone, Evangeline exhaled a heavy sigh and said, “The sausage and biscuits are ready, Hutch. I’ll…I’ll run over to be with Jennie. But you enjoy breakfast, all right?”

Hutch inhaled a deep, deep breath, exhaling it slowly—an obvious attempt to not only calm himself but also accept that their morning had been interrupted.

“All right,” he said. “You run over to Jennie’s. I better get out to the livery.” He looked to her then, adding, “But I’ll be honest with you, Evangeline. I can hardly wait for Calvin’s mother to get here and take over for a while.”

“I know,” Evangeline managed, smiling at him.

As Hutch rather stormed back toward the bedroom—mumbling, “I guess I better put on a damn shirt before any other ladies come poking around”—Evangeline giggled. The look on Mrs. Swayze’s face when she’d been met at the door by an artistically chiseled, half-naked Hutchner LaMontagne had been priceless. It had almost been worth the interruption.

As Evangeline turned to head back to the bedroom herself to fetch her shoes, she wobbled—almost fell over for the sake that her knees were so weak from the lingering effects of Hutch’s kiss. And she determined then and there that if Hutch felt enough for her to kiss her the way he had, then she would find a way (and soon) to break through the barrier that was her own shy insecurity and meet him tit for tat the next time he kissed her. She only prayed that there would be a next time—that there would eventually be not only a next time but an every time—an all the time.

As fate would have it, Jennie needed Evangeline both that full day and all through the night. But as anxious as Evangeline was to return with Hutch to their home, she’d tried to enjoy her time with Jennie—and she had. For one thing, Jennie had laughed so hard when Evangeline had related the stories of Heather Griffith’s and Mrs. Swayze’s arrivals and what followed that Evangeline felt it was more healing for her friend than all the bed rest in the world. Furthermore, she loved helping to care for little Evie. The baby was so tender and sweet. She put Evangeline in mind of having her own sweet babies one day—babies fathered by Hutch.

There was a worry, however, concerning the arrival of Calvin’s mother. Hutch and Calvin, and everyone else in Red Peak for that manner, had begun to sense the oncoming of a storm. Calvin worried for his mother—that the train would arrive during the worst of it and find him unable to fetch her home properly. And sure enough, as often happens, Calvin’s concerns were justified.

On the day that Calvin’s mother was to arrive, a snowstorm did descend on Red Peak. Though it wasn’t a full blizzard yet, Hutch and Calvin were both certain that by the end of the day, it would be.