Maverick Wild (Harlequin Historical Series) (19 page)

“Should I turn out the lamp?”

She liked being able to see him. “Could you leave it on?” she asked. “For a little while?”

“I’ll leave it on all night if you like.”

“You wouldn’t mind?”

He shifted, turning her onto the pillow beside him. “Sweetheart, I’m just happy to be holding you.”

Staring into his warm, smiling eyes, her body began to hum…and ache. “Will you kiss me some more?”

His lips brushed hers in a light kiss, stirring the wild wonderful tendrils of sensation that began to thrum through her.

“All over,” he promised.

“A
Miss Tindale is here to see you.”

Salina glanced up from her desk at her housekeeper standing in the doorway. Shock stole her voice. She’d assumed that little tramp would be long gone by now. Grissom had seemed a determined and capable sort of fellow. She had planned to pay a visit to Chance this very evening.

She pushed back from her desk. If Cora Tindale thought she’d seek refuge here, she was mistaken. Her mind was still plagued by the image of Chance’s arms wrapped around that woman, kissing her the way he had in the middle of the boardwalk.

Her stomach rolled on her way to the door. “Carmen, make some sweet tea, would you?” she said, pressing against the flat of her stomach.

The woman’s gray eyebrows pinched inward. “Feeling ill again?”

Nothing that couldn’t be helped by Miss Tindale’s speedy departure. “I’m fine. I’d just like some tea.”

“Yes, ma’am,” she said, turning away.

Drawing a deep breath, trying to ease her morning nausea, she made her way to the parlor. Her eyes widened at the sight of Mr. Grissom. He stood beside an older woman sitting on the settee, her elegant black gown quite similar to the one she wore herself. A young girl, appearing no older than fifteen and dressed in white, sat to her left. Her gaze was fixed on her folded hands—clearly the lady’s attendant.

“
Mrs
. Tindale?” she asked.

The woman smiled pleasantly.

Salina glanced at Mr. Grissom, perplexed as to why they would be paying her a visit.

“Mrs. Jameson,” he said, “might I introduce my mistress? Winifred Tindale.”

“A pleasure,” Salina said, not about to forgo her manners. Lord knew she’d waited long enough to have a real reason to use them.

“I apologize for the intrusion,” said Mrs. Tindale. “Mr. Grissom tells me you were helpful to us yesterday.”

“As much as I could be. I gave him directions to the Morgan Ranch. I trust you found it.”

“Yes. Unfortunately my daughter is not thinking clearly. I only wish to return her to her rightful husband.”

“Husband?”
said Salina.

“Yes,” said Mrs. Tindale, “her intended husband. This entire business is quite disgraceful.”

“What is it you wish to ask of me?”

“We only need access to the ranch,” said Mr. Grissom. “I’m told your property borders the Morgans’.”

“Yes, by quite a distance, a good fifteen miles.”

“Is it possible to approach their ranch undetected?”

Salina sensed a plan brewing and smiled. They wanted Cora Tindale. She wanted Chance. “Yes. My men have, on occasion.”

“Would one of your men be willing to guide me in?”

The only man on the ranch at the moment was Nigel. He’d have to do. The way Wyatt had been sulking lately, his absence was likely a blessing.

“Your tea, Mrs. Jameson,” said Carmen, entering the room with a large silver tray. The sweet-scented tea added to the delighted stir welling inside her.

“Serve our guests first,” she instructed, “and then send in Nigel. I have a task for him.”

From the moment Chance had stepped in the back door for their noontime meal, a permanent blush had stained Cora Mae’s cheeks. He hadn’t awakened her this morning, allowing her to sleep in past breakfast. As she fluttered around the kitchen, not once meeting his gaze, he began to think not waking her had been a mistake.

Tucker and Skylar sat across from him, waiting patiently for his wife to join them at the small table. Baked chicken and fresh biscuits steamed on their plates, the aroma making his mouth water.

He should have woken her up. He nearly had. The moment he’d awakened and felt her warmth beside him, saw her face tucked so sweetly against his chest, his body had burned with the urge to wake her with kisses, to reawaken the passion they’d shared several times the night before. But if he’d done that, he’d likely have stayed in bed with her until noon.

He imagined she had surprised herself last night. She’d certainly shocked the hell out of
him
. He hadn’t dreamed his bride would be so passionate. Okay, he might have dreamed it, but he truly hadn’t expected her to come apart in his arms last night, to give herself so completely. Her openness, her honesty, it had burned him to the quick.

I love you
.

Her breathless proclamation had been sounding in his mind all morning.

You give me so much
.

He wondered if it all seemed different to her in the morning light. If she’d realized the words he’d withheld.

His brother’s warning had nagged at him all morning, as well, and now seemed to shout through his mind.
I do believe proclamations of love are words most women want to hear on their wedding night. I was too damn scared to tell Skylar I loved her when I should have
.

He glanced at his sister-in-law. Judging by all the times he’d caught them lip-locked over the past few years, she must have forgiven him.

Skylar shifted in her chair. “Cora, come and sit down,” she said. “The pans can wait.”

Cora Mae turned from the stove. She eyed him up with the wariness of a green-broke filly looking to avoid a lasso.

Hell. She was definitely seeing things differently in the clear light of day. He’d rushed her; he knew he had. But damn it, the way she’d responded to his touch, his kisses—

“I made fresh butter,” she said, turning away from him again.

“Cora, we don’t—” Skylar snapped her mouth shut as Cora Mae disappeared into the pantry.

A low chuckle rumbled from his brother. Tucker grinned at him from across the table as he finished buttering his biscuit. “Morning-after jitters?” he asked in a low whisper.

Chance glared at him.

Skylar jabbed him with her elbow. “Why don’t you and I eat in the front room,” she whispered, picking up her plate and glass of tea as she stood. “It’s not often the kids are all napping at once.”

“Fine idea,” Tucker said, picking up his plate to join her retreat.

“You don’t have to,” Chance said.

Skylar smiled. “You’ve always given us our privacy. We can do the same.” She stepped beside him. “She’s been nervous all morning,” she whispered for his ears alone, then hurried through to the dining room with Tucker.

He appreciated the warning. He just wasn’t sure what to do about it. Cora Mae came back to the table holding a small crock, her eyes widening at the sight of the two empty chairs.

“Where’d they go?”

“Wanted some time alone, I guess.”

Her slow approach ate at his nerves. Maybe she just needed to be reminded that she liked being in his arms.

The moment she was in reach, he grabbed ahold of her apron and tugged until she plopped down onto his lap.

“Chance!”

He forced a lazy grin as he took the crock from her hands and set it on the table.

“What are you—”

“Kissing you good-morning,” he said, “like I should have hours ago.”

Her expression softened and Chance felt an ache in his chest, which only tightened as she leaned into his kiss, her hands sliding over his shoulders with familiar ease. Chance took care not to rush, teasing her lips with light caresses, followed by a deep tasting. The next thing he knew, she was clinging to him, kissing him back with equal intensity. As gradually as the kiss escalated, Chance backed off, easing his hold, the pressure of his mouth, until he was nibbling gently on her lush lower lip before releasing her.

“Much better,” he said, quite satisfied with her rosy cheeks and complacent expression. “I should have done that before I went out to work this morning. Tomorrow I’ll know better.”

“I wish you had. I slept far too late.”

“You needed the rest,” he said, holding her on his lap when she would have stood.

She glanced warily toward the dining room.

“Skylar’s likely on Tucker’s lap in the front room,” he said with a grin. A smile eased her tense expression as she relaxed in his arms.

“Tell me what’s wrong, why you’re so nervous.”

Her brow creased with a frown. “I don’t know. I didn’t, I’ve never…
I just am
. We’re
married
.” She said it as though the news came as a shock to her.

“We are. You’re having second thoughts?”

“No.”

He drew a silent breath of relief.

“We’ve just not spent much time with each other.”

“My fault,” he said. “I’ll take care to be home in the evenings.”

“Skylar suggested I move my things into your room—”

“Our room,” he amended. “And you should.”

“I know,” she said, her frown deepening.

“But you don’t want to?”

“I started to,” she said, her expression miserable. “My trunk is in your room. But when I opened your bureau and saw everything lined up so neat, the clothes folded so nicely in the drawers, I didn’t want to mess it up.”

She was upset because she didn’t want to mess up his neat drawers? Laughter shook his chest, even as he tried to fight it. “Honey, you could put my clothes on the back porch for all I care. What matters to me is
you
.”

“I couldn’t move your things to make room for mine.”

“Then we’ll do it together. When I come in tonight.”

Her smile touched her lips, though it didn’t take the sadness from her eyes. “Okay.”

“Honey, we’re not talking about clothes, are we?”

“I just…I don’t want to make a mess of things. You’ve seen Mother when she’s in a dither, she can leave behind the destruction of a hurricane.”

“I won’t let her. She’ll likely have to travel for a week to find the nearest judge.”

“I hate knowing I’ve brought such a burden to this house. Did you talk to Garret?”

Chance doubted the news that he’d spent his morning working with Duce instead of Garret would ease her concern. Judging by the frigid glare he’d given him before riding out with Tucker, the kid was mad as hell. He’d taken for granted how well they’d worked together over the past few years.

“He just needs some time to cool off,” Chance said, hoping that was indeed the case.

“Seems no matter what I do, I’m uprooting someone.”

“At sixteen, he has plenty of time to find a place to spread his roots.”

Her lips twitched with the start of a grin. “Unlike you, who’s firmly rooted?”

He smiled. “Exactly.”

The warmth in her gaze filled him with a sense of satisfaction. Strange, how soothing her doubts helped to ease his own. Her eyes seemed to search his.

Tell her you love her
.

“I love the feel of you in my arms,” he said, hugging her close.
Coward
.

“You really mean that, don’t you?”

He smiled into her hair. “After last night, I can’t believe you’d have any doubt.” He felt the heat of her blush and laughed.

Had he ever laughed so much? He didn’t think so. He kissed her smiling lips.

“Your dinner’s getting cold,” she said between kisses.

“I’d rather kiss you and go back to work hungry,” he said, muffling her laughter with his mouth.

By the time Tucker and Skylar came back into the kitchen, Chance was leaning against the counter as Cora put away their clean plates. They had managed to eat, though he had kept Cora Mae on his lap the whole time.

“Ready?” asked Tucker.

“As ever,” he said, starting for the back door. He glanced back at Cora Mae, returning her warm smile before stepping outside.

“Did you two work things out?” Tucker asked as they set off across the yard.

“I think so.” They enjoyed being with each other. Hell, he could hardly stand being away from her. He was damn certain he loved her—an affliction he’d sworn he would never suffer. A few weeks ago he hadn’t believed any woman could be worth such risk. He’d been wrong.

As they neared the first barn, Chance paused, detecting the faint scent of smoke. “Hey, Tuck?”

Tucker was already searching the clear blue sky for signs of a plume. “Where’s it coming from?”

Hoofbeats pounded toward them as Garret rode into view. “Fire on the north pasture!” he shouted. He reined to a hard stop, the horse turning in a full circle. “Duce and I cut the fences. I’m rounding up the others. We need shovels!”

“We’ll bring ’em,” Chance shouted back, already running into the stable with Tucker.

Cora Mae couldn’t stop smiling.

She pressed a rolling pin into a mound of piecrust and began flattening out a circle.

Thirty minutes inside the house, and Chance had slaked all her fears. Chance Morgan, her
husband.

The very notion still amazed her. Everything had happened so fast, Mother’s arrival, the wedding,
last night.
Her stomach dipped at the memory of the intimacy she and Chance had shared.

This morning, it had all seemed so overwhelming. She’d begun to worry she had guilted him into something he’d regret, but she couldn’t doubt the truth she saw in Chance’s eyes.

He loves me.

He didn’t have to say the words for her to feel his affection. The man had just sat in this kitchen and hand fed her just to keep her on his lap. She never dreamed a man could be so endearing, not even Chance.

He’d soothed her doubts—his tender touch making her feel
cherished.

Cora released a slow sigh and pressed out the edges of the piecrust. Breathing in an unexpected scent of smoke, she glanced at the stove. Nothing seeped from the oven door or the stovepipe. Realizing the smell was coming from outside, she leaned toward the kitchen window, searching the sky until she spotted thick gray clouds billowing up from the north, beyond the stables.

Good gracious!
She set the rolling pin aside and hurried out the back door. Keeping her eyes on the massive plume, she ran toward the corrals. Only horses milled about in the various stalls. Not a single man was in sight.

“Chance? Tucker!”

The ranch seemed deserted.

Of course they’d have already spotted the smoke, she reasoned. To her relief, the fire appeared to be far off.

She crossed her arms as she stared across the pasture toward the rising plumes. Skylar was nursing her daughters. Cora wasn’t sure if she should worry her. The wind was blowing northwest, away from the house. Surely the men would have alerted them if they were in any danger.