Maureen McKade (24 page)

“About what?”

“I’m going to tell them they have a job here as long as they want. I gave you my word on that.”

“Thank you.”

She and Johnny bowed their heads, and Jake followed their example, folding his hands together.

“Thank you for all the blessings you’ve bestowed upon us,” Kit prayed aloud. “Amen.”

Johnny echoed her amen, and Jake mouthed the word silently. As Johnny began chattering about the wedding and all the nice people he’d met, Jake tried to concentrate on his excited words, but Kit’s presence kept drawing his attention. She picked at her food, and her face appeared carved from white marble.

He missed the Kit who’d sat on the floor alphabetizing the books in his office. He missed the Kit who’d convinced him to leave the saloon, then who’d stayed with
him while he’d suffered through a massive hangover. He missed the Kit whom he’d kissed behind the barn on Easter Sunday.

Maybe tonight when they were alone, he could coax the Kit he’d known out from behind her cool mask. He didn’t understand why it was so important to him that she smile at him again; he only knew he wanted to see that woman once more.

After they’d finished eating, Kit rose and glanced at Johnny, whose eyelids drooped sleepily. “Jake, could you put Johnny to bed while I take care of the dishes?”

Jake stood and moved to his son’s side. “C’mon, Johnny, it’s time for bed.”

After a token resistance, the boy surrendered to Jake and allowed him to guide him upstairs to his room. Although Jake often experienced a wispy déjà vu when he visited Kit’s house, this time the sensation overwhelmed him. As Johnny readied himself for bed, Jake pictured himself as a boy in this same room. Jake’s own father, however, had never tucked him into bed. Another memory, like a vague dream, spilled across his thoughts. One night after he’d gone to sleep, something had awakened young Jake. He’d opened his eyes, and at first he thought a bear was sitting in the rocker beside his bed. Then he’d recognized his father watching him silently, puffing on the ever-present pipe that created a cloud of smoke around him.

Go back to sleep, son. I’ll always be here for you
.

Jake heard his father’s gruff yet gentle voice as if he stood behind him. Jake turned, but no apparition greeted him. Irrational disappointment filled him. Had he imagined that night so long ago?

Instinct told Jake the memory was real. Why had he remembered it now, so many years later? Was it because Jake now had a son, and he could understand a father’s concern?

Maybe Kit was right—maybe Jonathan Cordell
had
loved his son, but didn’t know how to express his feelings. Maybe the only way his father had known how to show his concern was to sit with him late at night while Jake had been asleep. Only then could his father lower his guard and display his true feelings.

“You gonna tell me a story, Pa?”

Jake blinked, startled out of his reverie by Johnny’s request. He lowered himself to the edge of the boy’s bed and tucked the blankets in around Johnny. “What kind of story do you want to hear?”

“Tell me what you did when you were my size.”

Expecting a request for his exploits as a bounty hunter, Jake was surprised. Surprised, but pleased.

Jake began to tell him about the time he’d gone fishing with his own father, but only a few minutes into the tale, Johnny fell asleep. Gazing down at his son’s innocent features, a wave of love and protectiveness crested through Jake. This must have been what Jonathan Cordell had felt as he’d watched over young Jake’s sleeping figure. Now, six years after his father’s death, Jake experienced a kinship with the elder Cordell, and he grieved for what had been lost between them. Studying Johnny, Jake vowed never to be only the midnight shadow his father had been.

He owed Kit his gratitude for giving Johnny the nurturing the boy needed. He owed her for not turning his own son against him as she’d raised Johnny alone. And he owed her for agreeing to become his wife to ensure Johnny the love of both parents.

Jake leaned down and kissed his son’s untroubled brow. Reluctantly he stood and left the room with silent footsteps. At the bottom of the stairs he paused. The muted clatter of metal against metal told Jake that Kit was in the kitchen, finishing the supper dishes.

Would she want him to join her? What was expected
of a husband on the wedding night? A husband who’d coerced his bride into marrying him. He bit the inside of his cheek. He might not love her, but he cared for her and wanted to make amends.

He’d been wrong about his father, and he’d allowed his bitterness to affect all aspects of his life. He couldn’t afford to allow that same resentment to influence his relationship with Kit and Johnny—especially since he wasn’t so certain Kit had been completely at fault. He couldn’t blame her for wanting to protect Johnny.

In spite of everything, she had given him his son. She could’ve kept silent, but she’d taken the chance of losing Johnny so Jake could know his flesh and blood.

Self-disgust twisted his stomach into knots. He’d accused her of deceit, when it was he who’d lied to her. Kit, with her tender heart, deserved better than him.

He ached with the need to hold her, to ask her forgiveness. Somehow, he’d convince her he cared for her as much as he could for any woman. And if he was capable of love, maybe someday …

Stiffening his spine as if he was readying himself for a showdown, he strode to the kitchen.

Kit glanced up at Jake’s abrupt entrance. She turned away, afraid he’d see her heart threatening to gallop out of her chest and the desire his mere presence conjured.

“Is Johnny asleep?” she asked, and realized her voice sounded as if she’d just raced her son from the corrals to the house.

Jake nodded, a dark curl spilling across his forehead. “The little guy was all tuckered out.”

The fondness in his tone brought a lump to Kit’s throat. Avoiding his gaze, she folded her dish towel and hung it over a chair. She lifted the pan of soapy water out of the sink and turned to take it outside. Jake took hold of the basin with steady hands.

“I’ll take care of this,” Jake said softly. “Why don’t
you go get ready for bed?” His crooked smile could’ve charmed a spinster out of her corset.

Heat flushed Kit’s face and desire pooled in her stomach.

“Well, are you going to let me take it?” he asked, with a provocative arch of his dark brow.

Flustered, Kit realized she still held fast to the metal pan. His hands were so close to hers, she could feel the heat of his skin. She let go her hold abruptly, and the water splashed up to dampen Jake’s shirtfront.

“I’m sorry,” she exclaimed, grabbing a towel to dab at the wet material. Embarrassment heated her cheeks.

“Don’t be,” Jake said softly. He leaned close, his balmy breath spilling across her neck. “I’m not.”

Kit jerked back, and gazed up at his liquid brown eyes. If she wasn’t careful, she would drown in their inviting depths.

“Go upstairs, Kit. I’ll join you in a few minutes.”

Jake took the pan of water out the back door, and Kit scurried out of the kitchen. She raced up to her room.
Our
room, she corrected herself with a panicky thought. How did one prepare for a wedding night?

She surveyed her bedroom as if she’d never seen it before. No longer would she be sleeping alone in the four-poster bed with the double wedding ring quilt her mother had made before Kit had been born. From now on, she’d be sharing it with the very man she’d dreamed of many past restless nights. If only the marriage had been based on love instead of distrust and extortion.

Jake’s movements downstairs spurred her into action, and she removed her clothing in record haste. Tempted to don her usual flannel nightgown with its button-up high collar, Kit instead opened a trunk at the end of the bed. She withdrew a creamy white gown made of foulard, a material so thin it appeared almost indecent. Her mother had worn it on her wedding night, but she and
Kit’s father had loved one another. Kit hoped it wouldn’t be sacrilegious to wear it when only the bride loved her husband.

The stairs creaked and Kit made her decision. She threw the nearly sheer gown on, and with trembling fingers, fastened the few buttons that closed the front.

The door opened, revealing Jake’s heart-achingly familiar figure. He stood motionless, framed in the opening as his gaze caressed every part of her body. She shivered beneath his scorching perusal and her muscles seemed to melt beneath the fiery heat.

He entered, shutting out the world behind him. The room seemed dwarfed by his broad shoulders and six-foot-plus frame. His glorious maleness stole her breath, sending her chest into an energetic race for air. Jake’s attention strayed to her breasts, and she consciously forced herself to keep her arms at her sides.

He approached her with an innate confidence, his powerful thighs flexing beneath his snug trousers. Held spellbound by the smoldering desire that darkened his eyes, Kit ignored the tiny voice that told her to move away, to escape before the web was complete.

She could run to the ends of the earth, but there’d be no fleeing the simple truth: she wanted him and he wanted her.

“You’re beautiful, Kit.”

His velvety voice wrapped its fine-spun words about her, cloaking her with warmth. She closed her eyes, trying to remember that Jake had forced her to marry him by threatening to take Johnny away. But his dizzying caresses and tender words melted her outrage.

Besides, she’d promised herself to make him love her, and actions spoke louder than mere words. She lifted a trembling hand and cupped his whiskered cheek. He turned into her palm, kissing the sensitive skin and sparking a trail of fire that led to the center of her desire.

Jake eased away and removed the spectacles she’d forgotten she still wore. Humiliated, she looked away, but he drew her back, raising her chin with his forefinger.

“Don’t be embarrassed, honey.” He flashed her a devilish grin. “I happen to like them.”

She shook her head. “Don’t patronize me, Jake. I know how ugly they make me look.”

His expression sobered, and he held her face between his palms. “Whoever told you that is an idiot.”

Did he really mean it, or was he only trying to ease his way into her bed?

“Do you believe me?”

Jake’s quiet question startled her, forcing her to decide. Relying on her intuition, she nodded with a short, jerky motion. “Yes.”

His shoulders seemed to relax, and she frowned, puzzled by his reaction. “Do you care what I think?”

He drew back as if she’d slapped him. “Yes.”

If he cared even a little, someday that might turn into love. With a returned sense of hope, Kit raised her hand to the buttons of his shirt. She couldn’t deny either of them what they wanted. Her feather-light fingers skimmed across Jake’s chest, and then she leaned forward, taking one of his nipples between her lips.

He moaned with unexpected pleasure. If he hadn’t taken her innocence himself, he’d wonder about her boldness. But with Kit, he recognized her giving nature. She wanted to please him, to give him as much delight as he’d given her their first time together. It humbled Jake to think she would still want to give so much of herself after all he’d taken from her.

Kit flattened her hands on his chest as she moved her mouth to lave his other nipple. Her slender body pressed against his, setting his nerves afire at every point of contact. She tested his rigid control, making him feel like a
nervous boy lying with his first woman. Since he’d become a man, he’d never experienced a loss of self-restraint—until Kit.

Grasping what little control still remained, Jake stepped back and removed his clothing as Kit’s luminescent gaze traveled down the length of his body. He stood motionless as he forced restraint over his rampant desire.

As he watched her in the shallow lantern light, Kit unbuttoned her nearly transparent gown and slid it off her shoulders. It whispered to the floor to gather like a gossamer pool about her delicate ankles.

Jake’s breath caught in his throat. The wondrous woman before him was his wife, his mate. The thought brought no panic, only an overpowering urge to gather her in his arms and make her his wife in every way.

He held out his hand. Without hesitation she accepted his invitation. He led her to the bed and they lay down upon it. Jake smoothed her cornsilk hair from her brow and dropped a delicate kiss on her petal-soft skin where her shoulder met her neck. Kit gasped, her fingers twining in his hair, urging him to continue the light caresses. He complied, trailing kisses down to her full breasts, then continuing lower to the blond curls at the juncture of her thighs.

“Oh, Jake,” Kit breathed.

Her womanly scent filled his nostrils, increasing his longing for her, but he held his passion in check. He wanted to pleasure her first, show her how much he cared for her. He teased the swollen nubbin with the tip of his tongue, and she arched her hips in answer to the instinctual summons.

“Jake, what are you doing?” Kit’s voice contained more breath than sound.

He splayed his hand across her soft abdomen, which rose and fell with her agitated breathing, and moved upward
to cup her breast in his palm. Her inarticulate sighs and the tightening of her fists at her sides told him she was near the edge.

“
Jake
,” Kit cried.

Her body shuddered, and Jake tasted her sweetness on his lips. Unable to hold back any longer, he moved over her and she opened her willowy legs to accommodate him. Leaning forward, he kissed her and her tongue teased his, parrying and withdrawing in a sensual game of tag.

Kit wrapped her arms around Jake and ran her hands up and down his back. She shivered, enjoying the sensation of silken skin over steel muscle and his springy chest hairs tickling her sensitive nipples. He slid his palm down her side and rested his hand on her curved hip. His masculinity pressed against her thighs, seeking entrance, and her body stretched to accommodate him, welcoming him into her awaiting slickness. Kit marveled at how perfectly he fit, how perfect he felt.

Jake’s heart pounded against her chest as he moved above her. Kit met each thrust with equal fervor, her nerves tingling, reaching again for gratification. Jake’s motions became deeper, his breathing more laborious, then he crushed his lips to hers as he shuddered convulsively. Kit echoed his groan as a second release seized her, startling her with its intensity.