Desert Angel (35 page)

Her face flamed at the memory of him removing her robe and gown, of his kisses and intimate caresses. Heat grew as she recalled his whispered words tantalizing her, his own clothing, so casually discarded, joining hers on the floor.

Had she really allowed him to do all of those incredibly intimate things to her? Had it really felt so good, or was her memory playing tricks? What had happened to her determination to be a lady?

“Good morning, angel.” Jim walked into the bedroom — serenely, nonchalantly, gloriously — naked! Jamie, held high against his shoulder, was his only covering.

March turned a bright red as she admired his long, lean body, hardened by years of work on the ranch. There wasn’t a spare ounce of flesh on his frame, from the top of his head to the tips of his feet … just several feet, six to be exact, of wonderfully masculine body.

“Like what you see?” he asked with a leering smile.

“Very much,” March replied in spite of her embarrassment.

“Glad to hear it, since it’s all I have to offer.”

“I wouldn’t say that.”

“No? Name something else.” He patted Jamie’s back, trying to quiet the squirming baby.

“You’ve given me a beautiful home to live in, lovely clothes to wear, plenty of food to eat . . . “

“Those are material things, angel. I have enough money to provide you with nearly anything you want, but I’m not so sure I can give you the things you need.” Jim’s light mood evaporated as he realized that she deserved more from him than a house or clothes or food.

March pulled the sheet more snugly over her breasts, and pushed her tangled hair from her eyes. “You have given me more than I’ve ever had in my life. For the first time I have security; I won’t be moving in the morning or run out of town tomorrow night. No one is going to attack me or threaten me. I don’t have to worry about hunger or being cold or trying to cook in a drizzling rain.

“I’m free.” She waved her hand around the room. “Even if all of this was suddenly taken away, I wouldn’t worry, because I know that you would be there. I’ve never had someone to take care of me, for as long as I can remember, I’ve always been the one to take care of others.” Jim was humbled by her honest gratitude. “March, I promise that you’ll never again have any worry about security, but there are things a woman needs to make her life complete.”

“I can’t imagine anything I don’t have now that I’ll need in the future. I have a beautiful home, food, clothes, and a son. If there’s something missing, I sure don’t know what it is.”

“Love, March,” he said quietly. “Every woman needs love, but I’m not sure I can ever give you the love you need and deserve. I may have been wrong to rush you into marriage. Someday you might meet someone who can give you love.” He was being so considerate, his gentle voice filled with regret. “Jim, love is for young girls whose heads are filled with romance stories of princesses and knights on white horses. I’m not a young girl; I’ve never been a young girl. I know what’s important in life, and a useless emotion won’t feed you when you’re hungry, or comfort you when you’re cold.

“I’d say that love has caused more problems for people than any other single thing they face in their lives. And, to tell you the truth, I’m not even sure the emotion exists, except for the love a parent has for a child.”

“So cynical for one so young.”

“I’m far older than the number of years I claim.” She smiled gently, her eyes drifting to Jamie, who was becoming very vocal. “I like you and respect you. I’ll always be grateful for the things you’ve given me, and I’ll try to be a good wife to you and a good mother to Jamie and any other children you give me.”

Turning her head slightly, she grinned. “You do realize that we’ll probably have a number of children. Mama never had any trouble getting caught, and I have a feeling I’m just like her. You won’t mind, will you?”

He hadn’t thought about children, her children, but a shiver of fear drifted down his spine when he remembered Melanie and the pain she had suffered. He didn’t want to see this tiny woman swollen with his child, twisting and turning in agony to give it birth.

“We don’t need to rush it any. We can wait awhile, before we add to the family,” he replied firmly.

“I don’t think we’ll have much choice, unless you want to refrain from further spelling lessons?” she teased impishly.

Jim’s throat tightened and a heaviness filled his body. Now that he had tasted her, loved her, he knew it would be impossible to sleep next to her night after night without making love.

“No,” he said huskily.

“Good, me either. I think I’ll soon become an excellent speller, but I do think we can do without this love nonsense, don’t you?”

Jim wasn’t sure how to respond. His intention in starting this conversation had been to reassure her, yet somehow he was the one being reassured. Jamie’s howl vibrated through the room, threatening his hearing.

“Feed your son, madame, we’ll continue this discussion at another time.” He handed the baby to her and then climbed back into bed.

“Aren’t you going to go to work?” March patted Jamie’s rounded bottom, trying to soothe the hungry baby who was becoming very vociferous in his protest over the delay in his meal.

“Later.” Remembering his one opportunity to view March nursing Jamie, Jim leaned back against the headboard and folded his arms over his chest, deciding that wedding vows gave him some unexpected pleasures. “I think the men can manage a few hours without me.”

“Oh . . . “ March wanted to ask him to leave, but didn’t know how. There was no doubt that he was comfortable with his nudity. She, however, wasn’t quite as relaxed with the new intimacy.

“Angel, if you don’t soon feed that boy, he’s going to bring the roof down around our ears.” He smiled understandingly at her shyness, but didn’t budge from his place on the bed.

Trying to keep her back turned as much as possible, March reluctantly lowered one side of the sheet.

Denied the sight he most wanted to see, Jim studied her slender back. Held rigidly straight, he could count nearly every rib. She was delicately made, from her narrow shoulders to her tiny waist to her nicely rounded hips. He felt an overwhelming urge to press a lingering kiss on the dimples, where her back rounded into her buttocks.

Climbing to his knees, Jim moved up behind her. Gathering up her sleep-rumpled hair, he placed a light kiss on her shoulder. The action provided him with the opportunity to look down at his son.

“The most beautiful thing I have ever seen in my life, was the night I forced you to feed Jamie in my office.”

His whispered words moved warmly over her skin, making her shiver in reaction.

“I knew how embarrassed you were,” he continued softly. “I wanted to apologize, but I couldn’t take my eyes off of you, and I was afraid if I said anything, you’d run from the room.”

Jim wrapped his arms around her, pulling her gently back against his chest. Putting one arm under hers to help support the baby, he let his free hand rest against her stomach.

March was vibrantly aware of the warmth of his body and the solidness of his chest against her back, his thighs surrounded her hips, until she was enveloped by his masculine bulk.

Hazy sunlight filtered past the sheer curtains at the windows, as the quiet sounds of morning drifted into the room, adding their own sense of peace. Leaning her head against his shoulder, she felt embarrassment slowly slip away, replaced with a contentment of a different kind, one she had never experienced before.

The strength of his arms provided a comfort and tranquility that seeped into her soul.

It was security, an oasis from reality.

In the early morning quiet that surrounded them, it was sanctuary.

The morning of her third day as Jim’s wife, with Jamie fed and in bed for his morning nap, wash hanging on the clothes line and beans soaking for supper, March decided to explore the house. Respecting Jim’s privacy, she had never ventured into rooms with closed doors, even though her curiosity had been nearly overwhelming at times.

Starting in the kitchen, she opened one of the two doors that had remained closed in that room, discovering that it led into the dining room. The other door revealed a set of stairs leading down. Since the room below was shrouded in darkness, March lit a lamp and descended the steps. At the bottom she found a small pantry, lined with row after row of nearly empty shelves. It would be the perfect place to store the produce from her garden, she decided as she climbed the stairs.

On the lower floor, the only room that hadn’t been explored contained a delicate desk with frilly curtains at the window. Several satin- covered chairs and gilded tables, set in groups of two and three, filled the room to overflowing. Obviously a lady’s sitting room, she wrinkled her nose in distaste at the fussy room and quickly closed the door.

Upstairs there were three bedrooms other than Jamie’s and the one she shared with Jim. Two of the rooms had only a bed and dresser, with plain curtains of a nondescript shade of tan at the windows. The third room was such a surprise, that March could only stand in the doorway and stare in amazement as foreboding spread through her.

It wasn’t the pink frilly bows that covered every inch of the room that caused her feeling of unease. Nor was she bothered by the thick white carpet and lacy white curtains that draped gracefully over the windows. Her gaze came to rest on the wide bed with its white canopy held back with pink bows. A mountain of satin pillows in every imaginable shade of pink were piled haphazardly on the far side of the bed. She shivered and crossed her arms over her chest, when she realized that the bed covers were thrown back as if someone had just left the room. The blanket and silky white sheets trailed onto the floor, where a slipper lay tipped on its side.

The vanity, with a lacy pink skirt and white bows, held a jumbled collection of bottles and jars, some with their lids open, while others were still wrapped in their original paper. A thin layer of dust coated the once-sparkling cut glass.

March backed out of the eerie room, softly closing the door behind her. There was no doubt that the room belonged to a lady, nor was her identity a mystery. What did remain in question for March, was why Melanie had a separate room from her husband.

The final door on that floor revealed a set of stairs leading up. The sight of Melanie’s room hadn’t prepared March for the chaotic disarray of the attic. The smooth wooden floor was covered by dresses, petticoats, and untold numbers of accessories; bonnets of every description, lacy colorful parasols, gloves, handbags covered with shiny beads.

March was appalled that such beautiful garments were strewn so carelessly around the room, as if by the hand of a maddened giant intent on destruction. She was even more horrified as she tried to imagine what would cause someone to so ruthlessly destroy things of such beauty and value.

Had Jim, in a fit of anger at his young wife’s death, been compelled to obliterate anything of beauty that had been hers? Or had Melanie, for some reason March couldn’t begin to imagine, done this to her own things?

“I think, at the end, she went a little mad.”

Jim’s voice from the doorway so startled March that she had to stifle a scream.

“I shouldn’t have left her alone that morning.” He continued into the room, surveying the scattered array with a deepening sorrow. “Her death was so useless, maybe if I had stayed with her, she would still be alive.”

“A lot of women die in childbirth, Jim,” March consoled quietly. “It’s not something you could have prevented.”

“She didn’t die because of childbirth.” His voice deepened with guilt. “If anything, Melanie died of neglect.”

“Neglect?” March leaned over and picked up a bright yellow gown. Carefully, she began to fold it, so that she could put it in one of the open cases.

“I spent more time worrying about the ranch than I did about her.” Jim leaned against a support beam and watched her work. It was time she knew the truth about Melanie, and perhaps learned a few things about him at the same time. “A ranch can’t run itself, it takes a lot of time and energy. Melanie wasn’t happy with her life. I knew it, but didn’t do anything about it.” March heard his pain and wanted to take him into her arms to help chase it away, but she knew that sympathy wouldn’t help him to find his way through his feelings of guilt.

“Pooh!” Dropping the yellow gown into the case, she reached for another one. At a different time, she would have enjoyed just touching the rich fabrics, but now her concerns were centered on her husband, and the pain he still carried.

“Pooh?” One eyebrow rose in surprise as he looked at March.

“Yes, pooh. No one is responsible for someone else’s happiness. If she wasn’t happy, then
she
should have done something about it, not sit back and wait for you to change her life for her.”

“I’m not sure she knew how to be happy.”

“Then that was her fault, not yours. It’s not polite to speak ill of the dead, but she sounds rather spoiled to me. She had a beautiful home, lovely clothes, a son on the way, and a husband who loved her. If that wasn’t enough to make her happy, then she wouldn’t have been happy if you’d stood on your head and talked with your feet.”

“I still feel that there was something I could have done, if I’d only paid more attention to her.”