Donovan's Bed: The Calhoun Sisters, Book 1 (27 page)

“I have no idea what’s in Jack’s past, Suzie. And I’m worried that something might come to light someday that could destroy everything we’ve built.”

“I can’t see Donovan letting that happen.”

“He might not be able to stop it.”

Susannah weighed the facts for a moment. “My advice is not to worry about it so much. Right now everything is going well for you. Don’t borrow trouble.”

Sarah took a deep breath, then nodded. “Perhaps you’re right. Maybe the marshal just
thinks
he knows Jack. It might not be him at all.”

“And maybe the marshal is just a nosy busybody.” Susannah took a sip of her tea, then rose, taking up the frilly parasol in tea rose yellow that matched her tailored walking dress. “Well, I’ve got to get back to town. Mother will be looking for me.”

“Give her my love.” Sarah stood as well.

Susannah followed Sarah through the foyer to the front door. “And you stop worrying about the marshal. The fool is probably addled from his injuries.”

Sarah laughed. “All right, I’ll forget about it.”

“Good.” Suzie gave her sister a hug. “Take care of yourself, and give Donovan a big kiss for me, won’t you?”

At Sarah’s blush, Susannah laughed, then went down the steps to her wagon. She managed to get into it despite her numerous petticoats, then waved to Sarah before starting down the drive.

So Marshal Brown thought he knew Donovan, did he? And he’d had the bad manners to mention it on her sister’s wedding day? Suzie set the horse to a faster pace. She would have a word with Marshal Jedidiah Brown—and she would see just what he thought he knew.

And what he didn’t.

Sunday afternoons tended to be rather lazy out at the ranch, and Sarah found herself at loose ends once Susannah had departed. Donovan had disappeared into the barn as soon as Susannah’s wagon had been spotted coming up the drive, to give her some privacy with her sister.

Could a woman ask for more?

A smile curving her lips, Sarah left the house and crossed the deserted yard to the barn. She could smell the musky scent of animals as soon as she stepped into the shadowed building. Senseless whuffed in greeting, and she paused by his stall to stroke his nose.

“Jack?” she called. “Are you in here?”

“Just a minute,” came the muffled reply.

Senseless nudged her, sniffing for treats. “Sorry,” Sarah said with a laugh, gently pushing the horse’s muzzle away. “No goodies today.”

“Does that go for everyone?” Donovan stepped out of a stall with a pitchfork in his hand.

Well, ah…” Her voice deserted her as he stepped closer.

Silhouetted against the sunbeam that streamed in through the open barn doors, his broad, bare shoulders seemed gilded with sunlight. His arm muscles rippled as he leaned the pitchfork against a stall, and again when he raised both hands to push back his hair where it curled over his forehead and around his ears, clinging to his neck in damp strands. Sarah swallowed hard, not daring to look lower where his Levi’s clung to his lean waist and long legs.

“Cat got your tongue, sassy girl?” he teased, coming closer for a kiss. His lips barely brushed hers, then he stepped back. “I’m covered with grime or else I’d kiss you properly.”

“You look fine to me.” Even she heard the hint of longing in her voice.

Ever since they had been married, Jack had made love to her every night in his majestic bed, treating her with almost reverent care that was very satisfying. While she enjoyed his tenderness, she often longed for the sweet, wild passion that had claimed them both that night at Miller’s Pond.

Since she had become the respectable Mrs. Jack Donovan, passion had developed into a nightly ritual that always took place in bed with the lights off.

But here in the barn, enveloped by the very basic scents of livestock and sweat and man, she sensed that things could be different. The bare simplicity of her surroundings called to that primitive side of her, the part of her that tossed inhibition to the wind and laughed as it blew away. She was beginning to accept that side of herself—especially since Jack not only enjoyed her erotic impulses, but encouraged them.

She wanted Jack, right here and right now, with an uncivilized passion that would have scandalized the members of the Ladies’ Auxiliary for the Betterment of Burr.

“Are you all right, sweetheart? Problem with your sister?”

She realized she had been lost in the fog of her awakening desire. The tender concern on his face made her want to snuggle closer, even as she contemplated how to get him naked as quickly as possible.

“I’m fine, Jack.” The smooth skin of his chest glistened with perspiration, and she reached up to stroke the firm flesh, captivated by the way he shifted beneath her hands. Funny, she had never imagined how appealing a half-dressed, sweaty man could be.

“Sarah?”

“Yes, Jack?” She traced his ribs with her fingers, then followed the line of a scar that curved below them and disappeared into the waistband of his Levi’s. Her husband had many scars. He never mentioned them, and neither did she, but they fascinated her.

“Sarah.” His tone roughened, and his hands clenched into fists. “Sassy girl, what are you doing?”

“Don’t you know?” She slanted a look at him as she played with his belt buckle.

“Sweetheart, let me go inside and get cleaned up a little.”

“Why?” She took pity on him and moved her hands away from his waist, caressing his powerful arms and shoulders instead. “You look fine to me.”

“I’m all sweaty.”

She touched her tongue to his upper lip. “I noticed.”

“And dirty.”

“I’ve been dirty before.”

“Sarah—”

“What is it, Jack?” She linked her arms around his neck, stepping close enough so that their bodies touched—his, hot, sweaty and bare and hers, clad in immaculate blue gingham that spelled of soap and sunshine. “Do you think I don’t find you attractive this way?”

He shifted, putting an inch of space between them even as his hands closed on her hips. “Something like that.”

“I don’t know why you think I’m so priggish,” she said, tangling her fingers into the hair at his nape.

Donovan closed his eyes. Her fingers caressing the back of his neck were making him crazy.
She
was making him crazy. He fought a nearly uncontrollable impulse to pick her up and carry her into the nearest stall, to lay her down on the straw and let passion take them. But he was dirty and covered in perspiration from mucking out stalls, and he probably didn’t smell too pretty either. Sarah deserved more than a hot and sweaty tumble in the barn. She was his wife, not some saloon girl.

“Have I done something to make you think I’m a prude?” Sarah stepped closer to him again and rubbed her nose against his chest. “I like the way you look right now. The way you smell. And the way you taste.” She pressed a kiss to his neck, and he felt the touch of her tongue on his flesh. He bit back a groan.

Lust tried to claw free, but he controlled it—barely.

“Sarah,” he said hoarsely, “let’s go up to the house.”

She looked up at him with those big blue eyes and slowly shook her head. “I don’t think so, Jack. It seems to me that you’re harboring some misconceptions about your wife that we need to talk about.”

“I’m not.” The words came out strangled as she started nibbling on his neck again. He closed his eyes and thought of an ice cold mountain stream. “I know who you are and what you like.”

She tipped her head back. “Do you, Jack?” Slowly she brought one hand from behind his neck, sliding it over his shoulder and down over his chest. “Or did you just put me in a little box in your head that’s labeled
Wife
and filled it with all sorts of wrong-headed notions?”

“You are my wife.” He took a deep breath and shuddered it out again when her hand made its way back to his belt buckle. “My wife,” he repeated. “Not some loose woman I met in a saloon.”

“That doesn’t mean I don’t have the same needs as those women.”

“You’re a decent woman,” he said. “You deserve better.”

“Wrong, Jack,” she whispered, her fingers slipping past his belt buckle to press against his aching erection. “I’m a decent woman, but I’m not made of china. Though I love you all the more for treating me as if I am.”

He dug his fingers into her hips, pulling her tightly against him. “You telling me you want a tumble in the hay, sassy girl?”

She smiled. “That’s exactly what I’m telling you.”

He heard the excitement in her voice, felt the hardness of her nipples pressed against his chest through the thin material of her dress. But still he hesitated. “I don’t want to hurt you, sweetheart.”

“Jack, the only way you could hurt me would be for you to say no.”

“God help me, sassy girl, I can’t deny you anything.” He cupped her face in his hands, gazing into her beautiful eyes. “You tell me if I do anything you don’t like.”

Her smile was slow and seductive. “I promise.”

He held out a hand, and she took it.

He led her to an empty stall, one he had just cleaned out and filled with fresh, sweet-smelling straw, then stole the breath from her lungs by pressing her up against the wall and kissing her with a slow heat that set every nerve humming. She lifted her hands to link them around his neck, but he caught her wrists in his hands and pinned them to the wall on either side of her head. Her heart thudded in her chest. She felt helpless in the face of his greater strength, exposed and unable to defend herself.

And she was so excited she was amazed her legs were still supporting her.

She moaned beneath his mouth, the sound one of both hunger and surrender. He broke the kiss for an instant, scanning her face for signs of distress. What he saw must have satisfied him, because a predatory gleam came into his dark eyes. So slowly that she wanted to scream, he started brushing kisses against her cheeks and forehead. He lingered near her ear, nibbling the lobe. At the same time he brought his full weight against her.

She couldn’t move, couldn’t reciprocate the hot caresses that made her knees weak and her bones melt. He nipped at her throat, and she tipped her head so that he could have better access. When he let go of her wrists, she rested her palms on his shoulders while he reached behind her and unbuttoned her dress. With each button that came free, he took her mouth in an unhurried kiss, his tongue stroking hers and stoking the fires of arousal higher.

By the time he tugged the dress from her shoulders, she could barely stand. She clung to him, gripping his arms while he knelt and helped her to step free of the garment. He draped it over the door of the stall, then took her hand and knelt in the straw.

“Come here, sweetheart.” He tugged at her hand, and she tumbled into his arms. He grinned.

Then he bent over her and gently sank his teeth into her throat, one hand sliding up her torso to clasp her breast. He toyed with the plump flesh, squeezing it gently until her breath came in pants. Sarah drew his head down until he took the nipple between his teeth, dampening the material of her chemise. She moaned at the intense pleasure, undulating her hips in an unconscious response. He groaned and raised his head.

“You’ve got too many clothes on, sassy girl.” With a swiftness that made her gasp, he stripped her of every garment except the chemise. At her questioning glance, he grinned like an outlaw. “That’s to protect your modesty in case someone comes out here.”

“What!” Sarah struggled to get up, but Donavan held her firmly, maneuvering her until she straddled his lap.

“Oh, no, you don’t,” he growled, holding her firmly around the waist. He could feel the heat of her naked loins against him even through the thick material of his Levi’s. “You started this; you’re going to finish it. You had your chance to make love like civilized people in bed.”

“But if someone comes…”

“Someone will,” he teased with raw humor that set her cheeks aflame.

“That’s not what I meant, Jack!”

“Don’t fret, sassy girl. You let me take care of everything.” He tugged down the straps of her chemise until her breasts were bared to the sunlight that filtered into the barn. “Now, that’s a pretty sight.”

“Jack, I…oh, my God.” The words lingered on a moan as he took one nipple into his mouth and sucked strongly, then all coherent thoughts flew from her head. If the entire town of Burr had shown up in the barn at that moment, she wouldn’t have cared.

His hand came up to knead her other breast while he suckled the first, and she speared her hands into his hair to hold his head firmly against her. When both nipples were hard and aching and damp from his mouth, he took her face between his hands and kissed her as if she were the main course at a carnal banquet. While he fed on her mouth, she combed her hands through the hair on his chest, tracing his flat male nipples with wondering fingers.
 

“Feels good,” he murmured. “Give me your hand.” She put her hand in his, and he pressed her palm against the obvious hardness below his belt buckle. “Open it, Sarah.”

The sensual command sent a thrill streaking through her. Eagerly, she tugged at the belt. It took her a few tries, but she finally managed to loosen it. All the while he played with her bare breasts, as if he were in no hurry whatsoever.