Rocky Mountain Bride (Rocky Mountain Bride Series Book 2) (15 page)

Carrie exploded. Her whole body trembled with shockwaves and she cried out, spiraling away.

When she came to, her husband was kissing her, his beard wet and scratching her face. She grabbed his head again, returning the kiss with passionate gratitude.

“Carrie.” He broke away from her lips, eyes wild. She wrapped her legs around him and let him surge inside her, crying out as he thrust in again and again, pounding her into the bed. The whole time she gripped him tighter, urging him on with her moans.

When he’d spent himself, she didn’t let go, but followed him as he flopped onto his back. She lay over him, naked body and tousled hair like a blanket over his broad chest.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured.

“So are you,” she told him.

His mouth curved up and she felt he didn’t believe her.

“When I first saw you, I thought you were the most beautiful sight I’ve ever seen.”

“I thought you were afraid of me,” he said.

“That too.”

“I felt the same way when I saw you on Martin’s porch. The sun was setting and you were so lovely. I was jealous of any man who’d seen you in the full light.”

“I was tired and dusty from the long trip.”

“Quiet.” He grinned up at her, lightly swatting her bottom. “You didn’t seem that way to me.”

Leaning forward, she gave him a kiss, then rested her cheek on his chest, sighing. His hand stroked lazy circles on her back.

“I thought you were the most beautiful woman in the world. And you were mine.”

*****

Sunday she sat in Esther’s kitchen, catching her up on events since they last saw each other. Miles and the other men stood in the parlor, talking while they waited for the rest of the church attendants to arrive.

“So how is marriage?”

Carrie thought of what she could say to her friend and blushed.

Esther nodded approvingly. “Good.”

“Miles works so hard. I wish he had more help. Or that we could live closer in town.”

“Do you think you’ll come Sundays?”

“I don’t know. There’s so much work to be done, and I’m so little help.”

“Don’t be so hard on yourself, Carrie.” Esther patted her hand. “I’m sure you’ll find your rhythm soon. I heard you stocked up at Mr. Martin’s.”

“Yes.” Carrie brightened at the thought of a full larder and new fabric to work with. “Although, when I walked in, he seemed so tongue-tied.”

Esther laughed. “Yes, he’s always been shy around women. Don’t you think he needs a wife?”

Carrie thought of the balding man at the altar, stuttering through his vows, and giggled. “Perhaps we could put an advertisement in the Denver post. ‘Successful shop owner seeks bride’.”

“Denver? There are no women in Denver.”

“Boston?” Carrie suggested.

“No, Boston women have sharp tongues. If Martin had a Boston wife, she’d flay him alive,” Esther said.

“What?” Carrie mock gasped. “My friend Susannah lives there. I will write to her and tell her what you said.”

“Only if you include an advertisement for the paper,” Esther cackled. “Poor Mr. Martin.”

“Ladies,” Reverend Shepherd spoke from behind. The two women jumped. “Shall we start the service with you? Or are you too busy trying to find a husband for ‘poor Mr. Martin’?”

Carrie flushed, but Esther put her hands on her hips. “It’s not good for a man to be alone,” she said to her husband.

“Yes, my dear, but do you remember what I told you about meddling in other’s business?”

“Forgive me, husband.” Esther didn’t sound at all contrite. “I only wanted to help.”

“By making fun of our friend and neighbor?” The Reverend raised an eyebrow at his wife, then looked at Carrie. “Would you tell the congregation the service will start in a few minutes? I need a moment alone with my wife.”

Eyes wide, Carrie looked to her friend, but Esther didn’t seem cowed at all. The blonde grinned before walking back into the kitchen, her husband following and closing the door.

Church started late, with a very flushed Esther sitting uncomfortably next to her husband. When Carrie caught her eye, though, Esther winked back, and during the prayer Carrie noticed the Reverend and his wife holding hands.

“I think the Reverend disciplines his wife,” she told Miles as they rode home.

Miles’ mouth turned up at the side. “What makes you say that?”

A pause, then she confessed the whole story.

“I see,” Miles said more sternly. “Were you planning on telling me that you were gossiping?”

She squirmed in her seat. “No.”

“Good girl, being honest.” Miles’ grin was back. “The Reverend pulled me aside and told me of the event, and that his wife had received her correction.”

“Did he tell you to spank me?”

“Reverend left it to me as the head of the household to relay punishment. And to tell you the truth, both the Shepherds told me of the rules and discipline that help their marriage, long before I wrote you the letter. I thought it might suit our way of life, and make adjusting to the marriage easier, so I took their example.”

Cheeks ablaze, Carrie was too embarrassed to speak.

“Did Esther never tell you of it?”

“No.” Part of her was relieved she had a friend who could understand their way of life.

“You could ask her next time. The Reverend tells me she receives correction every Sunday, just to settle up accounts for the week. A regular session just after church. He says it does wonders to maintain the peace.”

Now Carrie whimpered, feeling a sympathetic twinge in her backside. “You wouldn’t…”

“Do you feel as if you need regular correction?”

“No, sir. I’ll be good.”

He chuckled and patted her knee. “That’s my sweet girl.”

*****

The week came with shortening days and cooler nights. The Donovans worked hard to pull the harvest in, storing up corn and potatoes in a root cellar Miles dug out of the hill and covered with a makeshift door. They worked such long hours, they barely had time to kiss and cuddle in each other’s arms before falling into a deep sleep.

One night Carrie woke to Miles shaking her.

“Carrie?”

“Miles? What?” She squinted through the darkness, but couldn’t see her husband’s face. Her heart was pounding, and she felt a familiar sick sensation, the emotional aftermath of a bad dream.

“Are you all right?”

“I’m fine.” But she touched her face, feeling her clammy skin. “Is something wrong?”

She felt rather than saw her husband’s face move closer to hers. “You were calling out in your sleep.”

“I was?” She pushed off the heavy blanket, her chest heaving for air.

In the dark, Miles stroked the hair back from her sweaty face, then swung out of bed. A moment later, she saw a spark on the hearth as he started a fire. As Carrie sat up in bed, the air hit her damp skin, and she shivered. Her husband brought her a cup of water and tucked himself around her while she drank it.

“It was a nightmare,” she told him. She could remember it, the dark man chasing her until she locked herself into the cabin, trying to hide while he looked in through the window. The horror she’d felt in the dream still lingered.

“You want to tell me about it?”

“No.” She leaned back into him, grateful for his warm weight. “It was horrible.” The firelight filled the room, proving that nothing horrible lurked in the corners. She felt safe and secure, alone with Miles.

Miles gathered her hair and swept it aside so he could kiss her shoulder.

“Come on,” he said, and slid off the bed again. She followed slowly, her body aching from a long day helping him plow, followed by some more pleasurable exertions with him just before bed.

Miles pulled the heavy blanket around her, lifted her from the bed, and carried her outside.

“What are you doing?” she mumbled. He went to the edge of the porch and sat down with her on his lap, then secured the blanket around her.

Wrapped in her warm cocoon, she lifted her face to the cool night air.

“Look up,” he whispered.

The huge night sky, dark blue but for a milky white trail down the center, and thousands upon thousands of stars. Tired as she was, Carrie stared in awe.

“There’s so many,” she whispered.

“I used to sit out here and wonder if my future wife was out there somewhere, looking up at the same sky I was.”

She smiled in the darkness. The longer they sat, the more the tension flowed out her body. In the meadow, crickets sang a rickety chorus.

“Look.” Miles pointed and they watched a shooting star trickle across the sky.

Miles held her until her eyelids drooped and her body fully relaxed. He lifted her to go back inside, but before they reached the bed, she fell asleep in her husband’s arms.

*****

Carrie woke in the darkness, and reached for Miles, only to find an empty bed. She clutched at the pillow, feeling frozen through and through, a thought clawing her.

He was gone; he’d found out about her, and left her alone.

Then she realized a dark shape was moving around the door, and she sat straight up and screamed.

The dark figure lit the lamp, and flickering light casting monster shapes around the room, before illuminating her husband’s face.

“Carrie.” Miles looked shocked. “Whatever is the matter?”

“I didn’t know it was you,” she said as soon as she caught her breath.

“I went to check on Belle.” Miles moved closer and grabbed a blanket from the bed. “She’s restless. I think she’ll foal today. I’m going to stay with her.”

Carrie nodded, clutching her own blanket to her chest as her heart pounded back to normal. She still felt clammy and awful, still in the clutches of her bad waking.

“Want me to come with you?”

“No, you rest.” He leaned down and kissed her head. “Sorry to disturb you.”

For a few hours, she drowsed, then rose in the darkness for chores.

On her way back from the chickens, she heard Monty wicker and followed the sound. The big bay was tied up outside the corral, stomping his feet and whinnying nervously. She soothed him, and Miles came round the stables and waved her over.

“Is Belle all right?”

Her husband led her to the birthing stall where the mare paced.

“She’ll foal soon.” He glanced at the lightening sky. “Sometime around dawn.”

“You shouldn’t leave her then.”

Sun rays broke in the east and hit the mountains, setting the rocks aflame.

Carrie raced around the homestead gathering the eggs and getting more water for Miles, stopping only to pet Monty on the nose. “She’s doing fine.” She reassured the nervous father.

The birth seemed quick from start to finish. After a few false starts, the foal was on its feet, nursing at his mother’s teet.

“Male, and healthy,” Miles reported. He went to the pail to wash up.

“He looks like Monty.” Carrie admired the dark mane and mahogany coloring. “Just with a splash of his mother’s paint on his nose.”

Moving tiredly, Miles came out of the pen, closing the gate behind him before leaning on it for support. Carrie came around to help him. Tucking herself under her husband’s arm, she helped him walk up the hill.

“Did you learn something, Carrie?” Miles chuckled as she helped him into bed. Before she could answer, his eyes closed with sleep.

Tiptoeing about the cabin, Carrie settled into her chores. From her sewing corner, she watched her strong husband sleep, stern features lax and hair fanned across the pillow. He carried so much responsibility on his broad shoulders. She wondered if she ever would be a good wife to him.

While sweeping the porch, she caught herself yawning. Lately, her nightmares had robbed sleep from them both. She thought she might finish her work, then climb into bed and join Miles.

She’d just finished the milking when a familiar black stallion trotted out of the forest and up the hill. Recognizing the tall figure in black riding proudly towards her home, Carrie hurried to the cabin, reaching the porch just as Lyle Wilder stopped in front of it.

“Mrs. Donovan.” He touched his hat mockingly.

“Mr. Wilder.” She brushed her hair back, wishing she had taken time to put on a bonnet. In all the excitement, she had barely washed her face.

Mr. Wilder looked very fine, as always. Carrie had asked Esther about his perfectly pressed clothes, and the Reverend’s wife had reported that the mailman often stayed in hotels that offered a laundry service.

Looking at him now, she believed the rumor; his pants had a crease no wife could provide. Surrounded by the fine cloth, though, Lyle’s eyes looked haunted.

“This came for you,” Lyle said and handed down a package, not bothering to dismount. Hesitating, she finally went to the edge of the porch and took it.

“Thank you, Mr. Wilder,” she said in a tone she hoped told him he’d worn out his welcome.

Mr. Wilder’s gaze roved around the homestead, taking in the new addition beside Belle, and the cow stationed in the lean-to.

“New foal?”

She crossed her arms in front of her chest and nodded. She hoped Miles would not wake and see him; at the same time she wished her husband would come and deal with their nosy neighbor.

“So you’ve settled in with the old boot, I see. Does he have you mucking out the stable stalls of his precious horses yet?” He sounded bored and disparaging at the same time.

Carrie flushed and lost her hold on her tongue. “I’d rather spend a day with Miles’ horses than an hour with you.”

Lyle’s face twisted and he forced a laugh. “I guess you suit him then. You’re a real frontier woman now—you certainly look like one. Your skin is so brown, I’d think you were an Indian woman, except none of them have so many freckles.”

“You scoundrel,” she cried out, when a heavy hand closed on her shoulder.

“Lyle,” Miles drawled. “So good of you to bring the delivery to us. We missed you at our wedding.”

“Donovan.” Lyle jerked his horse’s reins and the big stallion danced backwards unhappily. “Marriage seems to be treating you well.”

“Aye.” Miles settled himself beside her, and she felt grateful for his warm strength. “What can we do for you, Wilder?”