Rafe's Redemption (31 page)

“Oh, Rafe.” More tears. But he was sure these were the happy kind. “I do love you.”

She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him as if she hadn’t seen him in a month. Hot, wet kisses raining over his face, down his throat…

“A re you aware you’re naked?” she asked breathlessly, squirming against his erection.

“Well, that explains the splinter in my ass.” He grinned as she burst into giggles, amazed how her laughter cheered him.

“Hmm.” She wiggled again. “I don’t think a splinter is what’s prodding my behind.”

He rolled her nipple between his fingers, making him even harder. “No?”

“No.”

“Maybe we better move over to the bed and see what it is.”

This time, she took his hand and led the way.

****

Christmas morning, Rafe awoke more excited than a child. He had her gift, a heart carved with Love, Rafe, wrapped in a handkerchief. It sat under the tree next to a bigger package Maggie had placed there last night.

He stoked up the fire, started the coffee, then sat on the bed beside her. She lay on her side, her long lashes fanned over pale cheeks. He took a long stand of ebony hair and wound it around his finger.

To think he hadn’t wanted her here.

She mumbled in her sleep, and he couldn’t stop from rubbing her sensual mouth. It must have tickled because her pink tongue flicked out, wetting his finger in the process. His body hardened as erotic images filled his mind, images of what she could do with that talented mouth.

“Rafe.” Her voice was sleepy.

“Right here.”

She smiled and snuggled deeply under the covers.

He glanced at the tree and pictured their Christmas next year. He hoped she wasn’t too set on moving to the city. He still wanted to live here in the wild.

He kissed the top of her head and stood to pull on his clothes. Every day he felt stronger. It would be a long while before he had complete use of his shoulder, but it didn’t pain him as much as before.

“Wake up, sleepyhead.” He perched on the edge of the mattress with her coffee. “Don’t you want to see what Santa brought you?”

She stretched, making one full breast pop out from beneath the blankets. Sniffing, she opened eye.

“Smells like he brought coffee.”

Rafe chuckled. “For starters.”

She sat and pushed the hair from her eyes before accepting the cup he offered. “Thank you.” She took a sip and sighed. “Merry Christmas.”

He leaned forward to steal a kiss. “Merry Christmas to you. Ready to open your present?”

“I should get dressed.”

“Open your gift first.” He couldn’t keep the excitement from his voice. Using a ribbon from her discarded petticoats, he’d made the heart into a necklace to replace the one she’d had to sell.

“A ll right.” She nodded. “But bring yours, too.”

“Oh, is that for me?” he teased.

He retrieved the packages, stretched out beside her, anxious to see her reaction. She grinned and untied the knot in the handkerchief.

“I can’t wait to see what it is.” Her eyes twinkled as she looked down.

Her fingers hooked the ribbon, and the wrapping fell to her lap.

“Oh.” She traced the delicate carving. “It’s beautiful.”

“Look on the back,” he whispered.

She turned it over, and her eyes filled with tears.

“I wanted to replace the one you sold in Cougar Creek,” he explained. “But more than that, I wanted you to know you’ll always have my heart.”

She hugged him close. “I love it. A nd I love you.” The words brushed his ear.

“Try it on now.”

She dropped it around her neck, then lifted free her hair. He reached out his finger, tracing the dark wood where it lay between her white breasts.

“I’ve been wanting to see it on you.” He wiggled his eyebrows at her. “Like this.”

Her grin lit up the room. “I’ll wear it always,” she promised. “Now open yours.”

He opened the large flour sack, knowing it had to be a drawing, hoping she’d done one of herself.

The paper rattled free and settled onto his lap. The air caught in his throat. Dear, God. It was beautiful. She was beautiful.

“Oh, sweetheart. It’s the nicest gift I’ve ever received.” He leaned in and gave her a soft kiss. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Now for your next surprise. I’m going to cook you breakfast.”

She looked doubtful. “Why don’t you let me?” He pretended to be shocked. “You don’t think I can do it?”

“Well…what were you going to make?”

“I can fry eggs. A nd there’s still bread from yesterday.”

She laughed at his indignant expression.

“So stay in bed, beautiful lady, and let me spoil you.” He covered her with the blanket.

“A ll right, but then I have to start baking. I’m making you an apple pie to go with Christmas dinner.” He nodded as he cracked the eggs. “That will give me a chance to get some fresh meat for the meal.” Her expression darkened. “No. I’ll just use salt pork.” Her voice almost trembled.

He slowly wiped his hands on a towel and walked to the bed. “Sweetheart, I can’t hide in the house forever.

I’ll be fine.” He brushed aside her hair. “I promise to stay close though. A ll right?”

She nodded, yet the worry didn’t leave her eyes. He went back to cooking, but he couldn’t get past the thought that Maggie would never forgive him if he got himself killed.

****

That night they sat in front of the fireplace and shared coffee laced with whiskey. Rafe tried not to laugh as Maggie took another drink. She had coughed and sputtered after the first one, and only then admitted she never before tasted alcohol.

Sex and now drinking. Should he feel guilty about corrupting her? Naw. She grinned as her eyes watered, and the end of her nose turned red. A ll right. Maybe a little guilty.

“Drink it slow, sweetheart.”

She took a tiny sip, then leaned back against his chest and sighed. The stone hearth was warm against his back, and he held her close and watched the flames throw shadows across the Christmas tree.

He trailed a fingertip over the delicate skin of her wrist, then smoothed his palm down her arm when she shivered. He felt like an animal. Right now, he wanted to carry her to the bed and lick every inch of her naked body. He wanted to feel the rasp of her velvet tongue on his cock, feel her sucking him deep. His balls tightened, eager for the sting of slapping against her ass cheeks as he pounded her pussy. Like a damned horny animal, all he could think about was fucking.

Instead he took a healthy drink, then set the cup on the hearth. “Tell me about Christmas when you were little.”

She shrugged. “Father wasn’t much for celebrating.

He allowed Nettie to put up a tree, but I think it was more for appearances—in case any of his business partners came to the house.” A fter another cautious drink, she smiled. “This really is tasty after you get used to it.”

“But did you have fun with Nettie?” God, please let her have some pleasant holiday memories.

“Oh, yes. She always let me help make cookies—

even when I was little. A nd she made me a doll—every year.” Maggie smiled. “I liked those better than the porcelain ones Father brought home. His were expensive and came with a warning not to break them.” She turned to look at him. “A fter Christmas dinner, Father would go into his office. Then Nettie would bring a small tree like that one,” she nodded toward the corner, “into the kitchen and we would celebrate. It was always so warm and cheery, filled with love.” Her eyes met his. “Like here.”

Rafe’s heart melted. If she felt that way, surely she would agree to be his wife.

Snuggling deeper into his arms, she took another sip. “Now, tell me about your Christmases.” He shuddered. “There was always a party. Dozens of guests, food everywhere. Lots of desserts—that part was good.”

She laughed. “Why am I not surprised the fondest memory you have is of food?”

He grinned. “Mother had a huge tree put in the ballroom. Then the servants would decorate it with glass ornaments. Right before the ball, they would light tiny candles all over the branches.”

“It sounds wonderful.” She sighed, then smiled lazily.

Maybe she’d had enough whiskey. How could she think all that sounded wonderful?

“It was loud and crowded. A nd Seymour didn’t like having me around his friends. So I stayed upstairs.”

“I’ve never been to a ball.” Her voice was wistful.

“Father wouldn’t let me.”

“Why not?”

“He said, he would pick the man I married, the man who would get his fortune, it wouldn’t be some money-hungry dandy I met at some party.” She sighed. “I didn’t care about meeting a husband. I just wanted to learn to dance.”

Well, that was something he could fix.

Setting her aside, he stood and bowed before her, brushing his lips across her knuckles. “May I have this dance, Miss Monroe?”

Her eyes widened in fear. “Oh, no. I don’t know how to. Not really. I used to pretend with Nettie, but—” He silenced her with a kiss. “Just follow my lead.” Rafe took her in his arms and hummed a waltz, holding her a proper length away, letting her watch his feet. A s she relaxed into the rhythm, he pulled her close.

“You’re too far away,” he mumbled into her hair. He wanted her body to move against his.

“Really?”

“No. I just wanted to feel you.” He slid his hand down to her bottom. “Not even married couples dance like this in public. A lthough, I did get an eyeful from my bedroom window a few times.” He laughed. “It overlooked the gardens. When Mother threw parties during the summer months, couples would go outside to get some fresh air. Or so they said.” He scoffed low in his throat.

Maggie pulled back, wide-eyed. “You mean they were…” Her brows raised in question.

He grinned at her surprise. She was still so innocent.

“Oh, yes. You wouldn’t believe the things I saw. Quite educational.”

She stepped back into his embrace and resumed the dance. “Well, I guess I did miss out on something by not going to all those parties.”

Tracing the edge of her ear with his tongue, he slowed their steps. She shivered, a soft moan rolling in her throat. He imagined her at one of those parties, dressed in silk, her hair falling in ringlets around her smooth shoulders. He would have offered her his arm and escorted her outside to a dark corner. His groin hardened. Her skirts would have been no barrier against his roaming hands.

He sucked her soft lobe into his mouth, then nipped with his teeth until her breath quickened and her nipples stiffened against his shirt. His cock throbbed in anticipation.

“Would you have asked me to dance?” she whispered.

“If you had been in attendance, I would’ve monopolized all your time. A nd I definitely would have taken you outside for some fresh air.”

She leaned back, her eyes filled with desire. “There’s fresh air over on the bed.” Her voice was husky and inviting.

He smiled. “Is there?”

“Mmmhmm,” she moaned, further proof of her growing need.

He stopped dancing and offered her his arm. “In that case, would you like to get some air with me, Miss Monroe?”

“God, yes.”

****

Maggie stopped beside the bed and let Rafe lift her shirt. The room felt overly warm. Or maybe it was just her. Sweat trickled between her breasts.

Was she being too forward? He certainly didn’t seem to mind her suggestion of moving to the bed. In fact, he seemed more eager than she. His hands shook as he pulled off her trousers and dropped them to the floor.

His ragged breath drifted over her body as he stripped.

Insistent hands and a hungry mouth claimed her as he moved his hard body between her thighs and fell with her onto the mattress.

Her insides tingled. That whiskey was quite enjoyable after the first sip or two. It made her feel impulsive, wild.

She slid her hands down his strong back to his buttocks and squeezed. He grunted his approval against her breast as he laved her nipple into a hard tip.

Chuckling, he moved to the other breast. “You like that, don’t you?”

“I like everything you do to me.”

She wiggled beneath his weight until she could press wet kisses to his face and neck.

He rolled to his back with a smile. “You want to touch me?”

She nodded, then climbed up his body, pressing kisses along the way. His skin tasted salty and male. He threaded his fingers through her hair, his hands tightened as her breath fanned over his damp skin. She moved to his shoulders and licked the tender pink flesh of his scar.

“Don’t.” He tried to pull away. “It’s unsightly.”

“Not to me. But all right.” She moved over his chest, the muscles quivered when she sucked his nipples.

His hands slid to her bottom, caressing, teasing the cleft with his fingertips. Warm liquid pooled between her legs as his other hand toyed with her breasts. He plucked and pulled her nipples until a whimper escaped her throat.

A fine sheen of sweat covered his body, and she marveled at the effect she had on him.

“You’re an incredibly handsome man.” She smoothed her palms over his stomach.

His breath hissed when she grazed the head of his erection.

“Do you like that?” she repeated his question.

“You know I do,” he growled through gritted teeth.