Wildflower (14 page)

Something had caused her to run today. He didn’t know what, but he certainly didn’t want to do repeat anything he might have done to make her skittish. He wanted her in his arms tonight.

Willingly in his arms.

He played his tongue lightly along her lips and her arms circled his neck. Her mouth opened for his entry. His prick, already hard went harder. Her tongue played with his, her hands tunneling through his hair. On a groan, he broke away and rested his forehead against hers.

With supreme effort, he wrestled himself under control otherwise he was gonna take her on Chuck’s serving table. “I’ll make good on my promise, sweetheart. Later.” He heaved a sigh and put her at arm’s length. “For right now, I need to bed my horse then talk with the boys and get relief drovers out to the herd. Everything got pretty muddled with us combing the prairie looking for you.”

Remorse fell into her eyes. “I didn’t mean to cause such trouble. I’m sorry.”

He tapped his finger against her lips. “Don’t apologize, sweetheart. You’re safe and that’s what counts.” He handed over her coat and opened the door for her. “Head up to the house. I’ll be there directly.”

Chapter Eight

Hands shoved in her pockets, Matt trudged to the house. Guilt pecked along her neck like a flock of chickens.

When she’d ridden out of Williamsville, she hadn’t expected Logan to be concerned about her well-being, though a glimmer of joy warmed her chest at the thought of him fretting over her. She pushed open the house door. And she certainly hadn’t expected him to applecart the entire workings of the ranch in order to search for her. She’d make it up to everybody by working extra hard and doing extra chores starting tomorrow. Right after she bought the green fabric and a pattern for her dress and delivered both to Elisabeth. Excitement raised her lips. Her dress. She was actually going to own a dress.

Would Logan like it?

That troubling worry erased her enthusiasm as she set about stoking the fire hotter and brighter. Firelight flickered into all the corners of the rustic, sparse room. Faded curtains, not bright yellow ones, covered the windows while no rug covered the floor boards. And no trinkets stood on the mantel.

This was where she’d been born. Where she had lived her whole life, motherless, with a father who never seemed to like her much, let alone love her.

Chances were Logan didn’t care for her either, yet she couldn’t deny she felt more at home with him in the past few days than she had her entire life with her father. But Logan was most likely just biding his time until he could pay her off and be rid of her. He’d married her to get the Standing T. She needed to remember that. Shaking off her melancholy, she squared her shoulders.

Just because Logan hadn’t wanted to marry her didn’t mean she couldn’t enjoy their time together. As long as he didn’t bed her, what was the harm?

Anticipation hummed along her skin. He said he was gonna kiss her all over. She liked the sound of that. Taking a lamp, she went into her bedroom.

The sight of her bed caused her eyelids to sag. It had been a long day of riding back and forth. She’d lie down and rest her eyes. Just for a minute. So she’d be wide wake for when Logan made good on his promise.

~
~
~

Banging in the front room jerked Matt from slumber.

Half-asleep, she stumbled from the bed and opened the bedroom door to see Logan muscle in the hip tub. He positioned it by the fireplace. She rubbed a hand across her eyes. “What are you doing?”

His boyish grin tumbled her heart. “Fixin’ you a bath.”

“A bath?” It was then she noticed towels on the table and extra pots of water crowding the fireplace. The heat in the room suffocated her. “Why?”

“Can’t a husband do that for his wife?” he asked. He took a towel and lifted a pot from the hearth. Steam rolled up from where he poured it into the tub.

A bath did sound good. No, it sounded like heaven. She felt grimy from all her riding that day. She shifted as Logan poured more water into the tub. “Where will you be during this bath?”

He busied himself shuffling the empty pots to the side. “I could go back to the bunkhouse. Play cards. Wait until you finished. Or…”

“Or?” The single word snagged in her throat.

He looked at her. The heat in his eyes dwarfed the heat in the room. His gaze roved over her face then down to her breasts. Her nipples peaked. Ached. He then looked lower until staring for long moments at the apex of her legs. Her woman’s center pulsed. Wetness dampened her drawers.

“Or I could stay here. Wash your back,” he answered low, his gaze making a leisurely reverse journey. “And other parts.”

Her lungs stopped working as her knees weakened. She wasn’t so naïve that she didn’t hear the longing in his voice. Didn’t see the harsh need in his eyes. Feel it scamper against her flesh.

She leaned against the door jamb. Awareness tingled her body at what those other parts might be. He came toward her, his expression dark, hungry, his movement slow. It was a predatory prowl that had her leaning further into the jamb because if she didn’t, she’d puddle to the floor.

He stopped within arm’s length of her. “What do you want me to do, Matt?” His rough whisper bushwhacked every nerve ending on her body. “Want me to stay or go?”

Oh, she knew exactly what she wanted him to do, but couldn’t make the words come out of her mouth.

“Say it, or I’m leaving.”

Maybe his highhanded manner should prick her temper. He was, after all, being demanding and bossy. Yet it didn’t. He gave his shoulders a casual hitch and turned. She shoved from the door. “Stay.”

He looked back at her, a knowing smile on his mouth,
his
eyes two gray pinpoints of lust. “If that’s what you want.” He cupped her cheek and blanketed her mouth with his.

She figured at some point his kiss would stop having the power to careen her world off its axis. At some point, but not now. Now all she knew was Logan.

His touch, his feel, his tongue pillaging, time and time again, like he couldn’t get enough of her. Like she mattered. In answer, she speared her fingers through his hair and held tight as the maelstrom inside her grew.

When they were both breathless, he broke the kiss and set her away from him with a fierce growl. “I need to get more water and you need to get into that tub before it gets cold.” He gathered two empty pots and hustled out the door.

Matt made her legs walk back into her bedroom. She shucked off her shirt, then worked the buttons of her Levi’s. The promise of what was coming made her fingers clumsy. Her heart raced while butterflies flitted in her stomach.

When she was down to just her long johns, she took a small pouch from the top dresser drawer. She pulled gently on the slender ribbon holding it closed and the sweet scent of wildflowers wafted around her. Distant memories of her mother soothed her jumpy nerves.

Taking a healthy pinch on the dried petals, she sprinkled it in the water. She replaced the pouch and quickly finished undressing. She slipped into the warm tub and settled against the rim with a sigh. Calmer, and with a tiny, slightly nervous smile on her lips, she closed her eyes and waited for her husband to return.

~
~
~

Logan had never thought much about angels.

Since the start of the Civil War, when his parents had been killed and his home burned by Confederate soldiers, he’d mostly concentrated on surviving.

Yeah, since then, angels had been rare for him. But he stared at one now.

A black-haired, petite beauty.

Matt appeared to be sleeping in the tub. Her legs were drawn up to her chest and her head lolled to one side. Black lashes fanned across her cheeks, pink from the heat in the room.

The tempting swells of her breasts were visible, their darker centers peeking at him from just below the water line. It felt like a mule had kicked the wind from his lungs. He almost dropped the heavy pots of water. Carefully elbowing the door shut, he set the pots in the hearth and shrugged from his coat with a deep inhale.

Wildflowers.

Bits of flowers floated in the water.
Well I’ll be damned.

He stoked the fire to robust flames then picked up a cloth from the table, along with a bar of fancy soap he’d bought at Upton’s Emporium that day. A surprise gift for his wife. One he hoped she liked. He crouched by the tub, wondering how long she’d sleep. He didn’t wonder long as jade eyes gazed back at him.

She said nothing, just stared at him, while he dipped the cloth into the water and lathered the cloth. Gazes locked, he washed a limp hand, working his way slowly up her arm.

Desire sparkled in her eyes. His cock hammered in his Levi’s. Those eyes had the power to bring him to his knees. Good thing he was already on them. The air trembled with tension. He looked away, lest he lose control. And himself.

Finished with her one arm, he worked on the other. “Tell me about the wildflowers in the water.”

She lifted a shoulder and closed her eyes. “Reminds me of my mother.”

Her voice was husky, laced with need. It further tightened his pants. “Oh?”

“She always smelled like wildflowers.”

Logan re-lathered the cloth then straightened her leg and washed each toe, then the sole of her foot. He remembered Gene’s
words, that
all softness had died with Matt’s mother. “You were four when she passed, right?”

“Hmm.”

The sound was more moan as he massaged the muscles of her lower leg. “Why put dried flowers in your bath water?”

“When I was little, I’d pick all the flowers I could find and keep them in my room. I thought if I had enough flowers, my mother would come back to me.”

A piece of his heart broke off at how lonely she must have been. Surrounded by men who knew nothing of children, and even less about a little girl.

“Obviously the flowers wilted and died,” she continued. “But the scent remained so I kept picking them. Guess it brought me closer to her in a way. When I was thirteen or so, I started putting the dried bits in my bath and basin water. I liked the way my skin smelled when I washed.”

“I do, too.” He stroked the cloth along her other leg, careful to keep his focus on his ministrations and not the dark tangle of inviting curls at the juncture of her legs. He forced his breathing to stay steady, to keep his hands soothing, not demanding. The magnitude of his hunger for Matt coursing through his body scared him. The last thing he wanted was to scare her too.

While he had every intention of feasting his eyes, hands and mouth on her tonight, he knew he needed to go slow. Slower than he had before. Matt might be tough as rawhide, but she was also delicate. Easily wounded.

An abrupt protective wave rolled through him, like thunder across the prairie. He’d kill before allowing her be hurt by anyone. Including
himself
.

He wanted her pain gone. All her pain. He wanted only to protect her. Hold her. Love her. Emotions crowded his chest. He could scarcely draw a breath. “Sit forward,” he commanded on a choked whisper.

She complied. Her quiet moans as he soaped her back touched a smile to his lips.

“Okay. Sit back.”

It was more a plop which sent the water sloshing. Her eyes were still closed. Logan gently wiped the cloth across her forehead and down her cheeks. She inclined her head from one side to the other to give him access to her neck.

Her pulse thumped erratically just under her jaw. He couldn’t resist the urge to press his lips there. To taste her freshly scented skin.