Bushedwhacked Groom (26 page)

Chapter Twenty-six

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Late that night Lucky stood in the open doorway of the
barn, watching an angry bolt of lightning strike a
mountain peak in the distance. The volatile atmo
sphere seemed to mirror his turbulent frame of mind.
He’d been unable to fall asleep in the hayloft, and just
when he’d finally dozed, Jezebel had pounced on a field mouse and an unholy fracas had ensued. He’d
fled the makeshift comfort of his bed and had con
fronted the cold night air downstairs.

He craved a different type of heat now. His bride. His
lips on hers, his mouth on her breasts, his aching
length inside her. Ever since their visit to the homestead, his thoughts, his emotions, had been consumed
by Molly.

And now, for the first time, everything she’d told
him, everything her mother had told him, was finally
making sense. All of that nonsense he’d scoffed at—
about Fate and him and Molly belonging together—
had evolved into a blinding truth. There
was
a reason
he had come here—a reason he’d survived that har
rowing flight through time. This
was
meant to be. He
and Molly were irrevocably linked—linked by the land
they both loved, bonded by a destiny amazing in its
simplicity and significance.

Perhaps he didn’t have all the answers yet, perhaps
he didn’t have every detail resolved, but he knew now
that he was supposed to be here, in this place, in this
time. He knew he was meant to claim Molly, claim the
land they both craved; he knew both were deep in his
heart now. She might not be the woman he’d thought
he’d always wanted, but she was the woman he
needed
now with a fierceness that was gut-wrenching.

And scary. For she’d made it clear she wanted him
for only one purpose—to have his name, his baby. She
was a creature without pretense; he had to give her
credit for that. She’d made no bones about the fact
that she was only using him.

Did it matter if her motives were mercenary as long as his were sincere?

It mattered. It smarted like hell. But he was going to
have her anyway.

Lightning flashed and thunder boomed, then rain
began to pour. Lucky raced across the barnyard, pounded by icy droplets, tearing off his shirt as he
went. He’d be warm soon enough.

***

In the bedroom, Molly, too, had been tossing and turn
ing for some time, jumping at each flash of lightning or
boom of thunder. Her nerves were frayed and she couldn’t get her mind off those electrifying moments
with Lucky earlier today. To think that they both cov
eted the same section of land—that he’d actually
grown up on the homestead she wanted for her own!
This seemed the ultimate proof that their destinies
were linked.

Yet on an emotional level, the realization was scary
as hell. It was enough of a struggle just trying to get her
mind around the fact that both their roots lay in the
same land. Lucky’s revelation had turned the tables on
her, making it clear that he wanted her now for the same reason she’d initially wanted him—purely as a
means to an end. Yes, now she
did
understand how it
felt to be used, to be exploited carelessly and without
remorse, and her soul burned with the shame of it. She realized she really was like that other woman who had
hurt him so badly—and how could he ever love or
trust her under these circumstances?

She also knew her feelings for Lucky had changed
and deepened. He was as strong and stubborn as she was, full of life and vitality and humor, and his fortitude and sensuality drew her to him like a magnet. She cared for him more with each passing day,
wanted to get to know him better. But her transforma
tion was too little, too late, she feared. For if she told him now that she really cared about him, believed in
him and in their destiny together, surely he would only
scoff at her alleged change of heart.

How she had botched things up! Even if they got to
gether now, it would still be for all the wrong rea
sons—to win a prize, not to begin a life together. How
could she have been so immature, so reckless, so
heedless of Lucky’s feelings, indeed, his life?

As rain began to pour down outside, she huddled deeper under the covers, bereft and miserable. Then
she tensed at the sound of the front door banging
open and gasped at the sight of a shadow moving into
her room from the hallway.

“Who is it?” she cried.

“Me, darlin’,” answered a husky voice.

Molly gulped at the sight of Lucky looming in the
archway, his tall form backlit by a flash of lightning. He
was shirtless, drenched, his naked chest beaded with
rain, his hair dripping, his jeans clinging to his trim hips and taut thighs. Even in the darkness she could
see something fierce smoldering in his eyes—and
even in the cold, she could have sworn she felt his
heat.

“W-what are you doing here?” she stammered.

He strode in, his voice quivering slightly from the
cold. “I’m your husband, remember?”

“But I thought you were sleeping in the barn.”

“Not anymore.” He began unbuckling his belt.

She sucked in a horrified breath. “You’re sleeping
with me?”

“Is there anywhere else I would sleep in this house?”
he asked teasingly. “I’m damn cold, woman. There’s a
spring storm tearing up the earth outside. And we are
husband and wife, in case you’ve forgotten.”

Pride and heartache roiled inside Molly. “You’re the
one who forgot all about that until today, when you
saw the land and decided you want it, too.”

“Maybe so.” He plopped himself down beside her on
the bed, inundating her with his hot, earthy, rain-
soaked smell. “And maybe it’s time for some honesty
between us.”

She gulped. “Yeah. Maybe.”

He hesitated a long moment, then gave a groan.
“Molly, I’m sorry I’ve been so angry at you for so long.”

“You—you are?”

“Yes, honey, I am. Hell, I even tried to seduce you
hoping it would drive you away—only it drew me
closer.”

“Closer?” she whispered, amazed. “Is that why you
walked out on me last week?”

He nodded. “If I hadn’t, I would have made love to
you then. In fact, I really don’t know how I stopped my
self. Then, today, when I saw your land,
my
land . . .
much as it chafes my pride, I have to admit I agree with
you now.”

“You do?” Confused by his words, unnerved by his
proximity, she watched a bead of moisture roll down his
sexy chest and was treacherously tempted to lick it off.

“All that destiny stuff I mocked before—well, it’s all making sense to me now.”

“How?”

“It’s like I told you today. I lost my grandparents and
their spread in 2004. Now I’ve been sent here to the
past to reclaim it—”

“But it’s mine, Lucky—”

He pressed a finger to her lips. “It’s
ours
, Molly, if we win it
together—by making a baby.” His hand slid beneath the covers, boldly touching her belly.

Molly winced with longing. Lucky’s caress was pure
torture, and the thought of having his baby aroused
her to unbearable desire—even though she still very
much feared that he saw this only as a way to accom
plish his goal. Sure, he might lust for her, but would he
ever want her, body and soul, as she now wanted him?
“Lucky, please, don’t do this to me—”

His gaze burned into hers. “Isn’t this what you’ve wanted all along—for me to accept my lot and see the
silver lining? Well, I’m seeing it now, honey.”

“But for all the wrong reasons,” she said miserably.

He tenderly caressed her cheek.
“
At least every
thing’s out in the open between us now. Would it have
been better if we’d come together through anger, or
under pretense?”

“I—I guess not.”

“It’s time, Molly,” he continued with quiet determina
tion. “You demanded this marriage, and now you’re go
ing to get everything it entails.” His fingers moved to
her breast, causing her to tremble. “You’re quivering for
me, girl, I can feel it. You want me just as I want you—”

“You don’t want me, you just want the land,” she
whispered back, hot tears threatening to well up.

“I want both,” came his vehement reply. “As for the
land, can’t I accuse you of the same motivation?
Haven’t you claimed over and over that the land is
yours? Not mine, not ours—just yours?”

Abashed, she lowered her gaze.

“Well, the contest is over, Molly,” he went on passion
ately. “Tonight, land or no land, you’re mine.” He took
her hand and drew it to the front of his pants.

Molly moaned at the hot, stiff feel of him against her
fingers. Her heart thumped and her insides twinged with a corresponding want. She knew she was slip
ping, slipping fast. And she knew Lucky was right—she
was his now.

He drew a raspy breath and caressed her cheek with trembling fingers. “Sit up, woman, and take off that
gown.”

Molly was both scandalized and aroused. “You want
me to take my nightie off?”

He chuckled, leaning over to tease her mouth with
his lips, darting his tongue at her teeth, torturing her
with a promise of the passion to come. “That’s how a
man and a woman do it, darling, both buck naked.
And I sure as hell ain’t doing it with you any other way.”

Molly gasped in horror and fascination.

He grinned and nestled her closer, tumbling her hair
with his teasing fingers. “You know, Mrs. Lamont, maybe you are a virgin, after all. I’m liking the notion
more and more by the moment. Now take off that
gown before I tear it off you.”

Molly’s cheeks burned as she watched Lucky stand
and begin unbuttoning his jeans. “You’re really serious
about this.”

He shucked his boots and jeans and untied his
drawers. “0h, yeah, darling. I’d love to peel every stitch
off that delightful little body of yours.”

This decadent and horrifying image was enough to
make Molly comply. Lifting the covers to her neck, she
tugged off her gown, then dared a glance at her naked
husband. Heavens, he was magnificent, all beautiful, chiseled male contours, his flesh gleaming and slick, his body lean and hard.

Speaking of which . . . she gaped at his generous en
dowments. “Lord, you mean to put that in me?”

He winked. “Don’t worry, Mrs. Lamont, you’re gonna
like it a lot.” He slipped beneath the covers. “Now,
c’mere.”

When he pulled her naked body close, the sensa
tions consuming Molly were so exquisite that she half panicked. She’d never guessed that joining her naked
body with a man’s would feel so divine. Lucky was soft
in some places, rough in others, and solid
. . .
oh, Lord
help her! The feel of his hot, huge shaft pressing
against the soft flesh of her belly made her squirm with
combined fear and desire.

He seemed to sense her trepidation. “Easy, darlin’,
easy,” he murmured, kissing her hair. “We’ll take it slow,
okay?”

When she looked up at him helplessly, his mouth
seized her own, and at once his kiss told her differ
ently. His lips were passionate, intense, insistent. His
tongue probing. She moaned her delight and curled
her arms around his neck, and heard his answering
groan as her breasts cushioned his sinewy chest.

“Darlin’,” he murmured, kissing her cheek, her neck.
“You don’t know what you’re doin’.”