Brides of the West (14 page)

“I never said such a thing.”

Her lower lip quivered. “Perhaps not, but two
days ago you were prepared to put me on a train back to Georgia,
ready to give me an annulment.”

True, but only after he’d realized the wrong
he’d perpetrated against her. “Only if that’s what
you
wished.”

She shook her head. “It is certainly not what
I
wish. And after what happened between us yesterday at the
hotel, I do not think it is what you wish either.”

Then he touched her, lifted a few strands of
her hair and twirled them around his fingertip. “It does not matter
what I want. What do
you
want, Evangeline?”

“I wish to be your wife. In every sense of
the word,” she said, quoting him from the previous day.

He watched as she reached up and finished
unbuttoning the bodice of her dress and drew it open. “Please do
not make me beg you to touch me, to make love to me.”

He swallowed hard and stared at her breasts,
both surprised and pleased she hadn’t donned a chemise or corset.
She rose up on her knees and shimmied out of the garment.

Quickly, he dropped the canvas flap behind
him. Darkness filled the cramped space.

“What if Mac comes looking for us?” He
unknotted the shawl and drew it from his hips.

Cautiously, she struck a match and lit a
small candle. Her eyes lifted to his and he heard her breath catch,
saw her swallow hard as her eyes caressed him. “I am certain Mac
will be no bother. Yesterday I explained you and I need our
privacy. He’ll not interrupt when we are alone.”

After setting the candle aside, Evangeline
turned her face away and lay back on the feather tick, clad only in
pink, lace-trimmed drawers. She was beautiful, gloriously so, her
waist-length golden hair spread out on the pillow, her firm breasts
full and luscious, the tips erect and waiting to be tasted.

Wolf knelt and moved closer to fan out her
long silky hair among the pillows. He wanted her, wanted the
physical pleasure her body could give, yet this would change
nothing between them. Ten years of hell, lies, and betrayal still
burned hot between them.

She gazed up at him with soft, misty eyes. A
part of him wanted to forgive the hurt, but the wound in his heart
was too fresh. Perhaps someday, but for now he would take what she
offered and hope it would be enough to sustain him.

He drew the pink, satin drawers down her
legs, over her ankles and feet, pausing to feast his eyes on her
nude form. So lovely and perfect. He brushed his knuckles against
her cheek and she trembled.

“You are uncertain?”

“Not at all,” she replied.

Still he wasn’t convinced. He sensed her
apprehensiveness, saw it in the rapidly beating pulse along the
side of her throat. Did he expect too much from her too soon? How
could he come to their marriage bed with this much anger and
resentment clouding his heart? He started to ease away, but she
reached for him, lay a delicate hand on his arm, stilling him.

“Don’t go.”

His eyes searched hers. “Do not toy with me,
Evangeline.”

“I’m not. Please,” she whispered, “stay with
me.”

“This isn’t a game.”

“No, it isn’t.”

Her hands reached behind his neck and she
pulled his mouth down to hers. Her lips were soft, warm, and she
moaned low in her throat, opening her mouth to receive him. She
returned his kisses hungrily.

Unable to control his raging desire, he tore
his mouth away, eased down her body and kissed the side of her
throat. He nipped at the tender skin, tasted her sweet flesh and
she cried out. Her hands threaded into his hair and urged him
lower. He suckled at her breast, rolling the pebbled nipple over
his tongue like a sun-ripened berry. She arched beneath him, her
hands cradling his head. She smelled fresh, of soft rain and talcum
powder and he went back and forth between her luscious breasts,
unable to get enough of the taste of her.

He plucked her rosy nipples into stiff peaks,
loving the soft mewling sounds she made in her throat as he
pleasured her. His hand moved lower and she moaned her approval,
arching upward as he reached between her thighs to test her
readiness for him. He listened to her sharp intake of breath as his
fingertips skimmed over the delicate petals of her dewy sex.
Finding her slick, he paused to brush his thumb in a circular
motion over her pleasure center. His gaze locked with hers as he
slid one finger into her core, followed by another. She appeared
ready enough, but her body tensed.

“Shall I stop?”

The look in her eyes softened as she relaxed
around his fingers. “No.”

“Good,” he whispered, still confused by her
reaction to his intimate touch. She sucked in a breath as he
pressed deeper, then she began to undulate her hips to his own
sweet, slow rhythm. He increased the tempo and she rode his hand,
bucking against him as if trying to get closer to him. He smiled,
pleased he could still elicit such a response from her.

He rose up over her, quickly insinuating his
legs between hers. His manhood was thick, erect, aching for
release. It had been a long time since he’d been with a woman and
he feared he wouldn’t last. She gazed up into his eyes and an
emotion he couldn’t discern crossed her face as he pressed into
her. She stiffened as he settled his entire length within, then she
began to move her hips to the slow rhythm he set. Whispering a
curse, he stilled, squeezed his eyes shut and savored the feel of
her hot sheathe as it contracted around his him.

“Don’t move,” he whispered, then opened his
eyes to look at her. “I’ll take my release if you do.”

She smoothed her warm palms over his
shoulders. “It’s all right, Wolf.”

He gave a half laugh. “No, it is
not
all right. You haven’t received any pleasure yet.”

Drawing in a deep, steadying breath, he
willed his body to slow down. He withdrew almost completely, thrust
slow and deep into her silken wetness, pleasuring her with long
deliberate strokes. Her legs snaked around his waist, her ankles
locking behind his hips, holding him captive. He watched her eyes
flutter shut, felt her muscles constrict around him as his own body
hurtled toward release. A sob escaped her lips as he exploded in a
soul-wrenching climax.

A moment later, he moved off her and lay
beside her, his heart pounding. The only sound in the wagon was
their harsh breathing. It felt almost like old times, their
lovemaking as passionate as it had once been. A few minutes later
she sat up and brushed the hair from her face, then drew a blanket
over herself.

He stroked his fingertips lazily up and down
her arm. “Why do you cover yourself?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know. I suppose it
seemed the proper thing to do.”

He watched her gather her clothing and
undergarments. She had changed from the uninhibited young woman
he’d fallen in love with years ago. What had happened to quell her
passion?

“We’re married. There is no need to be
ashamed.”

She nodded. “You’re right.”

He continued to stroke her arm. “You are
still as beautiful and fiery as that young filly I once knew.”

She lowered her eyes. “I’m not. My waist is
thicker, my breasts not as firm as when I was young.” Absently, she
shook out a petticoat. “Perhaps we should dress.”

“What’s your rush?” He lifted the garment
from her hand and tossed it aside.

Her gaze caught his. “Mac is alone. He needs
me.”

“Mac is old enough to look out for himself
for an hour or so, Evangeline. You must stop coddling him.”

A noise of protest passed her lips. “I do
not
coddle him.”

“The hell you don’t. You’re always at his
side overseeing his every move.” He snorted. “I’m surprised the boy
can use the privy without you holding his hand.”

She gaped at him, her eyes turning to narrow
slits. “How dare you.”

Wolf gritted his teeth, instantly regretting
his words. Perhaps he’d been too harsh, but she
was
overly
protective of the boy. “I apologize for that remark. You are a
caring mother.” He sat up and brushed the hair away from the nape
of her neck and kissed her there. “Do not be angry with me.”

She inclined her face to his and their lips
brushed. “Oh, Wolf, let’s not argue.” She reached up and traced the
scar on his throat with her fingertips before leaning forward to
press her lips to it.

“I cannot imagine the pain you must have
suffered,” she whispered against his skin.

No, she could not possibly know how he’d
suffered. Wolf choked back tears as his throat constricted. “Do not
think about it now. He pressed her down to the feather tick again,
drew her nipple into his mouth, and plucked it into a stiff peak.
Reaching down, he parted the soft blonde curls and teased the
little pearl of her femininity with his fingertip. She panted.

“I want you again, Evangeline.”

“I want you again, too.”

Moving over her again, he nudged her thigh
with his growing erection. “Let me make it better this time.”

There were no more words between them. Wolf
possessed her body with a fierceness that shocked him. Hot skin
melted against skin as they clawed toward mutual release. His dark
hands moved over her pale body, rediscovering every silken inch of
her. Still, it wasn’t enough.

Wanting to watch her, he rolled onto his back
and lifted her over him. She slid down the steely length of him,
rode him, her glorious golden hair spilling across her full
breasts, her head thrown back in wanton ecstasy. He grasped her
hips to still her when he came, then opened his eyes to watch her
beautiful face by candlelight as she drifted down from passion’s
storm.

When Wolf left the wagon half an hour later,
his body temporarily sated, heaviness still weighed on his heart.
She’d wanted him to claim her as his wife, but this interlude—no
matter how passionate—changed nothing other than to officially seal
their marriage vows. Now she couldn’t leave him without obtaining a
divorce. He prayed she wouldn’t choose to do so.

***

“Come see the fire!” Mac cried when Wolf
approached. “I did it! I really did it!”

Wolf surveyed the fire. “You sure did, Mac.
Now let’s see if we can wrangle up some biscuits.”

“My ma makes the best biscuits,” Mac offered.
“Hey, why were you gone so long? Isn’t my mother gonna make us
breakfast?”

Wolf cleared his throat. He figured
Evangeline wasn’t in much shape at the moment to be doing chores.
“Your mother is resting. Why don’t we surprise her and make
breakfast ourselves?”

The lad nodded. “She’d like that.”

Wolf brought the bowls, flour, salt and a tin
of canned milk. Mac stirred the ingredients together and mixed the
sticky dough with floured fingers while Wolf poked about in the
chuck box for his favorite Dutch oven. He showed Mac how to set the
three-legged pot into the glowing coals, then scoop a few on top of
the lid to create an oven effect. Afterward, he set a grate atop
the fire and put a pot of coffee on.

Evangeline emerged from the wagon, her cheeks
tinged bright pink, a faint bruise on the side of her throat,
evidence of his impassioned kisses.

Wolf grew hard again as he recalled their
lovemaking only a few minutes before. He fantasized about taking
her to the river and having her again tonight.

“I see you two have already started
breakfast.” Avoiding Wolf’s eyes, she ruffled Mac’s hair, giving
him a loving squeeze. “Did you build the fire by yourself,
sweetheart?”

Mac smiled up at her. “Naw, mister...I mean,
Pa
showed me how to do it.”

Her eyes caught Wolf’s. “Pa?”

Wolf shifted from his spot on the ground.
“Mac, your mother and I need to talk to you about something.”

Evangeline shook her head at him and mouthed
the word,
no.

Mac slipped from his mother’s embrace and
picked up a stick to poke at the fire. “I think the flames are
dying. Let me poke at it.”

“It’s not dying,” Wolf said. “Now put the
stick down and listen.”

Mac tossed the stick in the dirt and took a
seat beside Wolf.

He turned to the boy. “You know that your
mother and I were married by proxy—but that we are man and
wife.”

He nodded. “That’s why I didn’t go to the
wagon when you didn’t come back. I figured you two were doing
married things.”

Wolf cut his eyes at Evangeline whose face
had turned crimson. Wolf bit back a grin.

“Your mother tells me you’re aware that
Reverend Payne wasn’t your real father.”

Mac lowered his eyes. “I know.”

“Stop this now,” Evangeline interrupted.
“Mac, please leave us alone to discuss a matter.”

Mac rose.

Wolf came off the ground and squared off with
her. “No, Evangeline. The boy must know. Mac, stay where you
are.”

“You don’t understand,” she whispered.
“Garrick was cruel.”

Wolf looked over at the boy whose head was
bowed. “What the hell did Payne tell him?” Taking her by the arm,
he pulled her out of earshot of the boy.

“He told Mac he was born a bastard, that I
was a prostitute and that he had saved me from iniquity by marrying
me and giving Mac a name.”

“And you allowed such talk?”

“I didn’t allow anything. Garrick did as he
pleased. He beat me if I dared question him. He locked Mac and me
in our rooms for days if we disobeyed.”

“The boy will be scarred by the abuse.”

Tears glistened in her eyes. “I know. That’s
why I try to be exceptionally kind to him. He’s been through too
much. Now do you see why I protect him as I do?”

“And you?” He suddenly recalled that first
day in Luling when Mac tried to prevent him from undressing
Evangeline. “Is that why Mac has been so protective of you? Did he
witness Payne abusing you, too?”