Brighter than Gold (Western Rebels Book 1) (43 page)

Katie stared in amazement. “What happened to the man who said that we’d sleep better apart?”

“That’s right, make me cringe by reminding me of every stupid thing I’ve said since our wedding day!” He laughed. “Only a very frightened man could have spoken words as ridiculous as those, especially considering the fact that his wife was incredibly desirable.” Jack paused. “Do you want to know a secret of mine?”

A tingling warmth was spreading over Katie’s body. “I want to know everything about you. You can trust me with all your secrets.”

“Our wedding night scared the life out of me. Somehow, when we made love before, in Columbia, the loss of control seemed excusable because there was no commitment, and it was—”

“Unplanned,” she finished excitedly. “I know, I felt the same way! Jack, I was as afraid to let myself love you as you were to love me! I couldn’t face it, either!”

“And that night in Sacramento, I felt—exposed. I knew that if we kept on that way, I wouldn’t be able to stop the momentum, and so I tried to go backward.”

Katie stroked his cheek with loving tenderness. “Why did you stop being afraid?”

“I think I finally found the holding back more painful than letting go. And... Grandfather’s been urging me on. I didn’t want to lose you, Kathleen. I want to spend the rest of my life discovering you.” Jack lowered his head and kissed the tears from her cheeks before covering her mouth with his own. They kissed wonderingly for long minutes before drawing back to stare into each other’s eyes.

Without speaking they stood, and Jack undressed Katie before stripping off his own clothes. Then, in one fluid movement, they embraced. Their bodies were warm and clean, and it felt as if they were touching for the first time. Katie stood on tiptoe, her arms around Jack’s shoulders, pressing herself against him, while he embraced her with his entire being, his face buried in the fragrant tumble of her hair. Time seemed suspended as they remained thus, hearts beating in unison.

Sometime later Jack slipped an arm under Katie’s knees, lifted her up, and carried her to the bed. He ached with love as he kissed her mouth, her eyes, her temples, the hollows of her throat. Both felt keenly sensitized; every touch and kiss was almost unbearably acute. Katie lay back, smiling dreamily, as Jack explored her body with his mouth and fingertips. The sensations he evoked were exquisite and mingled with the joy that surged through her veins to bring her nearer to paradise than she had ever imagined possible.

When Jack’s face appeared again above her, Katie lovingly drew him down to meet her hungry mouth. Their lips brushed, tasting... Then, in a surge of passion, Jack deepened his kiss. Katie’s hips arched involuntarily as she welcomed the slow, sensuous dance of his tongue, engaging in a duel of intense erode pleasure that left her weak and breathless.

Jack stared down at her, his heart revealed in his eyes. “Dear God, how I love you,” he murmured.

A tear trickled down Katie’s cheek. “And I you.”

He entered her with excruciating slowness until their bodies were one; then, together, they began to move—still slowly, reveling in each sweet sensation. When Jack took Katie’s arms and turned her so that she lay on top of him, she beamed. It was a joy to behold him lying there in the firelight, so appealingly strong and handsome against the white pillows. Still joined to him, she caressed his glossy hair and proud face. She ran her fingertips over his corded neck, broad shoulders, and powerful arms, while Jack reached up to fondle her breasts. Katie arched forward slightly so that he could take a nipple into his mouth. Currents of sharp pleasure radiated out from her breast, intensifying the arousal between her legs.

Katie tightened around Jack’s hardness and bent to rub her brow over his chest; she loved the warmth and the smell of him. Jack’s hips moved slowly, and tentatively Katie found an answering rhythm, dropping her head back as the sensations built. Her hands braced against his chest, she rode harder, her ebony hair swirling about her shoulders. Jack was enthralled by his wife’s wild beauty. He held himself back, waiting, waiting, until at last Katie drew in a shallow, gasping breath, then let it out in a series of shuddering, whimpering cries. Her back arched, and as Jack felt her spasm, he found his own convulsive release.

Afterward Katie lay full length on top of him, Jack pulsing inside her. Neither spoke for many minutes, yet their silence was more moving than words. Jack stroked her gleaming hair, and he could feel her smiling against his shoulder.

“Ohhh...” Katie moaned at last.

He chuckled. “We’re going to have a lot of fun, my love.”

She flopped over onto her back next to him, took his hand, and pressed the palm between her breasts so that he could feel her heart pounding. “I didn’t know it could be done... like that,” she said in a small, delighted voice. “I liked it.”

“I liked it, too.” He traced the fullness of her breasts with a fingertip. “I’m very happy, Kathleen.”

She giggled. “So am I!”

“And, I’m very
hungry.
Let’s go downstairs and have a private feast. I don’t think I ate a bite all evening.”

Jack went into his dressing room and came back wearing his gray silk dressing gown. He carried one of Prussian-blue silk for Katie and helped her into it, tying the sash around her slender waist. Like high-spirited children, they crept barefoot down the corridors to the staircase. The house below them was dark except for the faint orange glow cast by the fireplace embers in each room. Jack held Katie’s hand as they made their way into the kitchen, where he turned on a gaslight.

The iceboxes and sideboards were filled with covered dishes. They loaded their plates with sliced ham, oysters, biscuits and honey, cold chicken pie, jam tarts, plum pudding, and sweetmeats. Jack hooked one finger around a jug of cider, and they returned to his room. There they lit candles and made a picnic on the bed.

Katie sat cross-legged in Jack’s voluminous dressing gown, exposing her bare limbs unselfconsciously. As she devoured a tart, she gazed around and her smile broadened. “When I was a little girl, Mrs. Barnstaple ordered a testered bed like this from New York, and I’d never seen anything like it. Sometimes she let me play on it when we visited. It was pine, and not as magnificent as this one, but it had a wonderful muslin canopy and curtains. I used to pretend that the bed was a ship, the hangings were sails, and the blue braided rug underneath was the ocean....”

“You must have been an enchanting child,” Jack said fondly. He leaned back against the pillows and poured cider into cups. As he handed Katie hers, he looked into her eyes. “Do you have any idea why I don’t drink spirits?”

She shook her head. “I just assumed that you liked to keep your wits about you.”

“It’s a little more involved than that.” Jack took a deep breath. “I was raised in Philadelphia, and my father died when I was a boy. Mother took us to live with Grandfather, then I came west at eighteen. Up until I was twenty-five or so, I drank brandy—or whiskey, or champagne. Lots of it. I was what you would probably call a libertine. I made a lot of easy money during the gold rush, and this was an exciting place to be young.”

“I imagine so,” Katie agreed.

“I broke a few hearts and I broke my word in some business dealings and I lost money gambling, but the brandy took the edge off my conscience. It wasn’t until my mother died and Grandfather brought Conrad here from Philadelphia to live with me that I began to take a look at my life. Conrad was thirteen, and extremely impressionable. Since he’d lost his father when he was a baby, he decided that I would be his role model.” Jack smiled bitterly. “One morning, after I hadn’t come home for two days, Con came looking for me. He found me passed out in the bed of a less-than-reputable lady above my favorite saloon. I thank God that at least
she
was not there by then. Anyway, I didn’t drink liquor after that.”

Katie squeezed Jack’s hand. “It couldn’t have been easy,” she murmured.

“Giving up liquor was the least of it. When my brain cleared and I took a good look at the damage I’d caused, I set about repairing it with a vengeance. I was determined that, from then on, I would keep my life in order. I never broke my word, I was never late, and I adhered to a schedule at home, too.” Jack felt a pervasive sense of peace stealing over him as he shared this part of his past with Katie. “However, I began to feel things again, and those feelings made me uncomfortable. The sterile routine I made for myself helped, because it kept me out of volatile situations. Of course, it was only a matter of time before the human being in me wanted to live again. I found an excuse to go to the foothills, and you know the rest. I’ve been torn between the two worlds, and my two selves, ever since.”

“But now you’ve resolved the conflict?”

Jack smiled at her over the rim of his cup. “With your help, Kathleen. I’ve finally come to realize that the key to making it all work is balance. Sam Clemens used to talk to me about his need for
passion
in his life, and it scared the hell out of me because I realized that I needed it, too. I’ve finally discovered that opening up and letting myself feel again doesn’t mean my life is going to careen off a cliff. I can lose control in some areas... like right here in this bed with you”—his eyes twinkled at the sight of her blush—“and still retain discipline in other areas, like my business dealings. Over all, however, I’ve decided to loosen the reins on my life. If I don’t eat the same thing for breakfast every day, or if I take the afternoon off to go riding with my wife, the world won’t come to an end, and I’ll doubtless be happier for it....”

Katie grinned. “Balance. I like that.”

“Good. Why don’t you snuggle up to me and balance your plate next to mine?”

Chapter 29

January 24-25, 1864

“Can’t you do something about that kitten?” Ambrose Summers demanded, looming in the doorway to the morning room. “Poor Harriet was just attacked! She was lying on my lap, licking the last of the egg yolk, when that young marauder leaped onto the dining room table and pounced on her from above. Then, adding insult to injury, she put her face up to my plate and began nosing around. Harriet was so outraged that she has taken refuge under the sideboard!”

“Where’s Poppy now?” asked Katie, who sat curled in an arm chair, a notebook in her lap.

“Mrs. Gosling came running in response to my cry, and her idea of saving the situation was to take your kitten to the kitchen and
feed
her! Now she’ll think that there’s a reward in store if she abuses Harriet!”

Jack looked at Katie from across his desk and bit his lip to keep from laughing. “What do you suggest we do, Grandfather? Turn Poppy out of the house?”

“Well, no, I don’t suppose that’s the solution... though the idea has merit.” His eyes twinkled slightly as he glanced at Katie. She gave him a look of mock horror in reply. “I just wanted you to be aware of this... misbehavior. Take it under advisement.” Ambrose cleared his throat. “Say there, young lady, why aren’t you working at your own desk in the morning room? What’s the point of having an office if you’re going to fritter away the daylight hours in here with this character?”

“Grandfather, it’s only eight o’clock!” she protested, laughing. “Besides, I’m looking over my notes for an article I’m going to start today.”

“Well... good.” He brushed a muffin crumb from his drooping mustache. “I’ll leave you two to your own devices, then. I think I may take a stroll. Hope wants me to have a look at the calla lilies she’s started in her new greenhouse.”

When the sound of his footsteps had grown faint, Katie exclaimed softly, “Isn’t it exciting? I think Grandfather is forming an attachment to Hope.”

“Kathleen, you’ve become a hopeless romantic. They were dear friends long before you came here.”

“But this is different. I just
know
it. Women can sense these things.”

Jack arched a brow suggestively. “If I weren’t already late, I’d tell you to come over here and sense something else.”

“And I would have to refuse you, sir.” She lifted her dainty nose. “I have
work
to do.”

“I notice that, as usual, you are going ahead with this article without clearing it first with your editor—”

“Edwin knows about it,” Katie declared.

“Yes, and Edwin is a notoriously soft touch where you are concerned. What are you writing about?” He came around the desk to glance down at her notebook, but Katie’s scribblings were illegible to all but their author.