Desert Angel (30 page)

“You’re wicked, Jim Travis,” Mazie said, trying, but failing to sound stern.

“Yep,” he replied without moving his gaze from March.

“Ain’t you ashamed of yourself, staring like that?”

“Nope.”

“How long you gonna stay there?”

“As long as the view stays this fine.” Pushing his hat to the back of his head, he grinned. “And it sure is a mighty fine view … mighty fine.”

“Purely wicked!”Mazie’s chuckle was equally as wicked as she walked out of the water, allowing her skirt to fall when she reached shore. She wasn’t concerned with Jim seeing her legs, he had yet to take his eyes off of March.

March turned crimson at his continued stare. Naturally it had to be him, who had discovered her cavorting in the water like a child. Nearly a hundred other people of various ages were just out of sight, but, of course, it was Jim who found her with her skirt hiked up to her knees and her blouse soaking wet. So much for proper, she decided with a silent sigh.

“You’re gonna miss the ice cream, if you stay in there much longer,” Jim told her. “And the last time I saw him, Jamie was starting to get riled up. He’s probably wanting his mama.”

“Go away.”

“I will.”

“When?” she asked suspiciously.

“Just as soon as you come out. I have to stay and make sure you’re safe.”

Neither one of them noticed when Mazie grabbed her shoes and stockings and walked away. Neither one of them heard the laughter up on the hill, or the sweet song of the bird in the tree above Jim’s head. Neither of them saw the beauty in the sparkling creek, or felt the sun on their heads.

Both were too aware of the other.

“Come here, angel,” Jim called softly.

With a will of their own, her feet carried her to shore and into his open arms.

Her hair had slipped loose from the knot she had so carefully fashioned it into, and hung in golden strands around her face and down her back. Her blouse was wet, the fabric clinging faithfully to the cotton chemise beneath it. A large water drop clung to an eyelash, and Jim couldn’t resist reaching up to catch it on the tip of his finger.

“Lord, but you’re beautiful, angel.” His voice was a husky whisper, filled with a longing that both scared and thrilled her.

“I’m a mess,” she replied, finally remembering to release her skirt.

“A beautiful mess.” Unable to resist, he leaned forward, his lips gently settling on hers. His tongue flicked out, never staying for long in any one spot as he learned her taste.

March discovered that his lips were surprisingly soft and shockingly warm. He teased her as he repeatedly rubbed his mouth lightly over hers. She wasn’t aware when she leaned against him and wrapped her arms around his neck.

But Jim was.

He felt the heat from her breasts, so soft against the hardness of his chest, and savored the touch of her hands on his skin. With one arm around her narrow waist and the other buried beneath her hair at her neck, he pulled her tightly against him.

The world and everyone in it disappeared as he slowly deepened the kiss, until a fire sparked and threatened to become a flame. Careful not to frighten her with a need that was rapidly growing out of control, Jim slowly raised his lips from her, pressing his forehead against hers.

Breathing deeply, he closed his eyes and tried to regain some kind of control. All he wanted to do was lay her on the ground and merge his body with hers. This was neither the time nor the place, and she had already had that kind of experience. He wanted her first time with him to be as perfect as possible, but lord, it sure wasn’t easy pulling away.

Whoever said life was easy, Jim thought to himself with a grim smile, as he raised his head and reluctantly stepped back.

“When we make love, we’re going to light the world on fire.” His voice was husky with suppressed desire.

“Make love?” She blinked with surprise, her face so filled with innocence that he smiled.

“Yes, sweetheart, we’re going to make love, and I promise you that you’ll never regret a minute of it. Behind a closed door, a lady can do anything she wants with her husband.”

“Jim, I think — “

“Don’t think, March.” He tapped her nose and turned away. “Get yourself back together and I’ll go fetch Jamie. This will be a nice private place to feed him, and then we can go eat some of Walt’s ice cream.”

Flustered, March nodded in agreement and watched as he walked out of sight. Sitting on the log, she grabbed a stocking, but left it dangling between her hands instead of putting it on.

So that was a kiss, she thought, a real kiss. It was wonderful. It was exciting. It was thrilling.

It was as scary as hell!

She had been so involved in feeling, that Jim could have done anything to her and she wouldn’t have resisted. All of her resolve to be a moral, proper lady had shattered at the sound of his voice. With the simple touch of his lips against hers, she had flung respectable out the window and grabbed for more of his forbidden pleasure.

When he returned, March had one stocking in place, but was just staring at her shoe, as if she didn’t know what to do with it. He smiled to himself, pleased with her befuddlement. If he could keep her that way long enough, he’d have her married before she realized what was going on.

A decision had been made, one he hadn’t even been aware of considering, as he placed the baby in her arms.

“Feed this monster, while I put your shoes and stocking on.”

“He isn’t a monster!” she defended the fussy baby. “He’s hungry. And you can’t put my stocking on.”

“Why not?” He held up the white cotton garment.

“Because you don’t know how.”

“Sure I do … feed that kid before someone comes to see if we’re hurting him!” Jamie’s full- volume scream left no doubt that he was tired of waiting for supper.

Keeping a leery eye on Jim, March unbuttoned her blouse and lowered her chemise. He dutifully kept his eyes away as he rolled the stocking and slipped it on her foot.

Sweat beaded on his forehead, as he rolled the stocking up her leg. It was the hardest thing he had ever done. So many places to look and touch. So much soft white skin within reach, and he had to act like this was the most natural thing in the world. It was a tortuous agony no man deserved.

March blushed as his fingers came to rest briefly just above her knee, but he was so mat- ter-of-fact about it that she relaxed as he pulled her skirt down in place.

Slipping her feet into her shoes, Jim found that it was a difficult job hooking the leather thongs over the buttons without a buttonhook, but it kept him occupied while she nursed Jamie. He was very much aware of the sounds his son made, of the flesh barely hidden from view, but he forced himself to concentrate on his chore.

When he finished his chore, March was still feeding Jamie. He had seen her embarrassed flush when she had freed her breast, and knew that she wasn’t comfortable with him being there. But he wasn’t about to walk away and leave her there alone. Earlier, someone had broken out a few bottles of whiskey, and the miners and ranch hands were starting to get a little rowdy. Normally, they were extremely respectful to a woman, but with a few rounds of rotgut under their belts, they’d been known to act first and apologize later.

He couldn’t endanger March by leaving her alone, neither could he continue to sit at her feet like a worshiping slave. A few more minutes of seeing her exposed flesh, and he’d be more of a danger to her than any of the miners.

Jim rose and walked over toward the river. He was oblivious to its serenity, wondering with something akin to disgust, when he had started to think like a sixteen-year-old after his first time with a whore.

His physical relationship with Melanie had been far from satisfying, in fact she usually made him feel like he had defiled her body with his infrequent attentions. He couldn’t remember ever wanting her the way he wanted March. And lord, but he wanted her!

Marriage was the only answer. He wouldn’t treat her as she had been treated by Fred, using her body for immediate satisfaction. But if she was his wife, then he could provide protection for her, while enjoying the privileges of marriage.

He hadn’t planned to remarry, some might even consider it far too soon, but the longer he thought about it, the more he liked the idea. Jamie needed a mother who would always be around to provide maternal guidance. March needed the security of a home, the kind of protection that a wedding ring would provide. And he’d have a woman around to tend to the needs of the house, to wash his clothes and cook his meals.

She had already proven that she was intelli-

gent and clever. Now that she had mastered the cookstove, she was turning into a good little cook. There was always a ready supply of clean clothes in his dresser, his shirts had never been so neatly ironed, and all of the buttons were good and snug. His boots were frequently polished, and his hats brushed free of dust.

She was a fine seamstress; the skirt and blouse she was wearing were perfect examples of her abilities. She was friendly, generous to a fault, and honest beyond most men.

And she even managed to make a nearly decent pot of coffee.

With his hands buried in his pockets, Jim rocked back on his heels. It would be a perfect arrangement for all of them. And if he got the added benefit of a bedmate, well, that’s as it should be. A woman needed a man, that’s all there was to it. And if the man happened to desire the woman he wed, then all the better for him.

Yep, he decided smugly, marriage it would be. And the sooner the better.

Unaware of the decision that would radically change her life, March buttoned her blouse and rose from the ground. With the sleepy baby balanced against her shoulder, she waited for Jim to realize that she was finished. Finally, when long minutes had passed and he hadn’t turned away from the river, she walked up to him, stopping at his side.

“All done?” he asked, surprised that she had finished so quickly.

“Do you think we’ve missed the ice cream?” Her voice had a little-girl quality to it that made him smile.

“I don’t think so.” He took Jamie from her and balanced him in the crook of his arm. “Let’s go see if we can find some of that peach ice cream that Walt’s been bragging about all day long.”

As they climbed the hill, they discovered that the volume of noise at the clearing had lowered considerably, and they soon found it was because everyone was too busy eating ice cream to do much of anything else.

Jim found a shady spot for her with some of their neighbors, handed the baby to her, and went to get some of the ice cream. March wiggled with anticipation, silently urging him to hurry. Smiles and sighs of pleasure were so prevalent, that she knew the treat must be wonderful.

And it was … the most wonderful thing she had ever tasted. Jim had returned with a bowl so heaping that she was nearly embarrassed. He announced loudly that Walt had scooped that up himself just for her, and that she was to eat every bite.

March put a spoonful into her mouth, surprised at the coldness of the creamy confection. That surprise lasted only briefly, soon obliterated by the rich flavor of peaches. She closed her eyes to better savor the texture and flavor, missing the smile on Jim’s face.

It surprised Jim to discover that he felt such pleasure, knowing he had introduced her to the treat. Ice cream wasn’t new to him, he couldn’t even remember the first time he had tasted it, but surely his face hadn’t reflected the nearecstasy that was currently on hers.

“Like it?” he asked needlessly.

“Surely it must be a sin for anything to taste so good.” March licked her lips as she scooped up another spoonful.

“If it is, then Preacher Davies is in danger of going to hell along with everyone else.” He pointed to the preacher, who was obviously enjoying his ice cream as much as everyone else.

“You shouldn’t say things like that about a man of God,” March scolded.

Chuckling, Jim rose. “I need to talk with Walt for a few minutes, enjoy your ice cream.”

March licked her spoon and made a face at his retreating back. He could go talk to each and every person at the gathering. He could talk about the weather, the price of beef, or black versus brown suspenders. She didn’t care.

She was going to sit here in the shade with Jamie sleeping contentedly at her knees, and indulge herself in something that just might be a little bit better than peaches.

Closing her eyes, March let the flavor melt on her tongue. She wasn’t about to miss one bite of her ice cream for any reason short of … Grinning to herself, she acknowledged that she couldn’t think of
anything
that would make her give up this special treat.

NINETEEN

Jim disappeared for longer than a few minutes. March finished her ice cream, sighing regretfully when it was gone. Leaving Jamie asleep on the quilt in the care of a neighbor, she carried her bowl back to Walt and volunteered to help with the clean up.

“Thanks for offerin‘, but that’s all taken care of.” Walt took the bowl from her and dropped it in a bucket of water. “What did you think of your first taste of ice cream?”