Rocky Mountain Wife (10 page)

“He’s a flea. In fact, he wouldn’t make a flea on a rat’s behind.” Anger returned, and he was grateful for it because it flushed the desire from his veins, the hunger for her he could not control. “Forget him. He isn’t a problem anymore. I’ll make sure of it.”

“He just wants the property.”

“He wants you.” Maybe it took another man to see it. Maybe it was because he was lusting after her himself. Joshua guided the horse down the empty road between sprawling fields. There were just the two of them, so he couldn’t explain the tingle that started at the back of his neck. “You’re a beautiful woman, Claire.”

“Oh, you’re just saying that because you’re my husband.” Light teasing made her incredible mouth turn upward into a smile. “You have to say that.”

“No, I don’t.”

“You’re a nice man, Joshua. If I had to marry someone, I’m glad it was you.” She reached out with one hand, settling her fingertips on his wrist just below his sleeve’s cuff, on his bare skin. Through the lace gloves, he could feel the heat and silk of her.

There his cock went, quickening again. He bit back a groan, disappointed he didn’t have more control of himself. Then again, how could he? Claire was gorgeous and sexy and kind. Hell, she was the kindest woman he’d ever come across.

“I’m not so nice,” he told her plainly. “That is the damn truth.”

“Are you kidding? You have treated me with nothing but fairness and respect. And that’s how I want to make sure I always treat you.” Her hand remained on his wrist, radiating caring. “That’s why I’m going to help with the rest of the planting.”

“No.” The word came out raspy rather than stern. His throat was tight with emotions he hadn’t felt in a long time. She made him feel less alone, and he hated himself for his sexual attraction to her.

It was an attraction he couldn’t control. His shaft thrummed, throbbing once, twice, three times and then she took her hand away. At least she hadn’t noticed, or didn’t seem to as she grabbed hold of her hat as the wind picked up, gusting hard.

“That’s not another storm coming in, is it?” She stared over her shoulder, where gray clouds rimmed the horizon. Otherwise the sky was a pure and perfect blue.

“We’ll have to see which way it blows.” He set his jaw, hoping they’d seen the last of bad weather and bad luck. He needed everything to work out just right if he wanted to harvest a bountiful crop come September.

But he managed to give Claire an encouraging nod of reassurance. She’d had a hard row. He couldn’t help wanting to take away her burden of worry. As silence fell between them, he could feel the lingering effects of her ever-present sorrow.

He’d never loved anyone the way Claire had. He couldn’t help wishing he had that capacity in him.

Oliver Sanders stopped his team of horses, the finest in the county, and gazed over the roll and draw of the high mountain prairie. If he squinted into the sun, he could just make out the shape of Claire Callahan’s house—or, rather, Reed’s—across his vast fields. Rage hazed his vision, turning everything crimson, making it hard to see the small dot of a figure striding away from the house toward the fields.

Joshua Reed.

Fury roared through him like a twister. Oliver fisted his hands, wishing he could tear that two-bit, know-nothing dirt farmer into pieces and leave him bloody and dead on the ground. Married. The bank had been abuzz with the news after the couple had left. He grimaced. What a damn shame. Pretty Claire with her soft blond curls and big round breasts had tied the knot.

She was no longer needy. No longer likely to wind up in his bed like he’d hoped—honestly, like he’d planned on. Disappointment ate at him, turning to rage. How dare she? He always got what he wanted, and he didn’t like being denied. Why wasn’t she more obliging? Mrs. Hattie Davis had been when he’d made the same offer to her five months ago. He’d paid pennies on the dollar for what her foreclosed land was worth and when she’d been sobbing and penniless, he’d let her back into her little home and took what he wanted from her when he wanted it five nights a week.

But he was getting tired of the sad little widow Hattie Davis, and the way she would let out a cry now and then when he was rutting on her. His chin hiked up indignantly. She didn’t have to worry about rent, did she? All she had to do was to spread her legs.

Yes, he’d been thinking about pretty Claire. He’d been fantasizing about what it would be like to get between her thighs. To make her beg. To hold her down while he took his pleasure from her body, violent and rough. He went hard with dark lust, his cock straining against his trousers. He wanted to hear her cry. He wanted her to beg him to stop. He wanted her to hurt.

That always made it better for him. He gritted his teeth, imagining her pinned down beneath him, helpless as he pounded into her flesh without mercy. His cock throbbed and he felt the wrenching spasm deep in his spine, deep in his balls and he came in a hard, sudden squeeze of explosion. He opened his eyes and he was alone on the road.

There was pretty Claire now, in a bright green dress, standing on her back porch. Her hair was down, blowing in the wind, and he smiled.

Well, why should he deny himself that pleasure? Maybe he should take what he wanted. He always did. After all, she had just cost him the best farming land this side of the county. She would deserve anything he did to her. Not to mention, she’d turned him down.

Nobody—
nobody
—turned down Oliver Sanders. She was going to pay for it. Dearly.

Claire’s caring had done a terrible thing to him. Joshua bent to unhitch his plow. His arm muscles burned with exhaustion as he reached to release the harness buckles. His back twitched with pain as he pulled the leather straps from their metal clasps. He’d worked long into the night trying to forget her, and yet he couldn’t forget the kindness she’d shown him.

“Whoa there, Thunder and Lightning.” The rising wind tore apart his words, but the horses stopped anyway. The poor fellows looked like all they wanted was to head straight to their stalls and bed down for the night.

Joshua knew just how they felt.

“Just give me a moment.” He unthreaded the leather straps that held the two draft horses together. Lightning tossed his head, sidestepping into the cool breeze of the wind.

It looked like the storm was winding up. It might hit hard after all. He grabbed the lantern from the hook, leaving the plow where it was so, it’d be easier come morning. Light danced across the even rows of freshly turned sod. The air seemed to crackle as he whistled to the horses. He grabbed their reins with his free hand.

“Let’s head home, boys.” The inky black swirl of clouds overhead glowed with an eerie, iridescent light as if lightning was thinking about striking. The angry hot then cold gust of wind. He smelled rain in the air.

Other than the wind, everything had gone quiet and that gave him pause. He stopped mid-stride, debating. It felt like twister weather. That’s when he saw her crossing the field. Claire.

“Oh, good. I caught you.” She moved through the darkness like silk, so graceful it made his teeth hurt.

Probably because he was clenching them from wanting her so bad. He had better get resigned to the fact that he was weak in her presence and learn to cope. “What are you doing out in the dark looking for me? It’s late.”

“Very late,” she agreed, holding up a small basket. “When Clay worked late, I always fixed a little late snack for him. He’d be so exhausted, a bit of food helped him to get to sleep.”

“I don’t need anything.” Maybe he’d said that more gruffly than he’d intended. He cleared his throat, feeling horrible as she blanched, looking stricken. The lamplight caressed her, highlighting her beauty and making him look. Really look.

God, she was something. How she could be more beautiful every time he gazed at her, he didn’t know. He couldn’t seem to get enough of her. “I mean, I don’t want you going to any trouble for me.”

“It’s no trouble, I’m used to doing it.”

“I’m not used to needing anything.” He might as well tell her the truth. “I like it that way.”

“Oh. I see.” She stared down at the basket in her hand. Her slender shoulders slumped. She stood there as if not knowing what to do.

He’d been trying to let her off the hook, but he suspected he’d hurt her feelings. Not what he wanted at all. He grimaced. “I’m not really your husband. That’s what I mean. I don’t expect you to go to this kind of effort for me.”

“You really are my husband. I have a marriage certificate to prove it.” The corners of her mouth held a small smile, captivating him.

Don’t look at her mouth,
he told himself. Those lush, perfectly formed lips would make him start thinking all sorts of inappropriate thoughts. Like where he’d like that mouth to kiss him and lick all the way to his—

“I made blueberry muffins.” She tilted her head to one side, studying him in the darkness. “In fact, I made too many. Ivy and I can’t eat all of them, even if I pawn some off on my ma.”

“You’re trying to make it seem like I’d be doing you a favor by taking them.”

“No, not at all. I just don’t want good food to go to waste.” But the smile in her voice told him the truth. “I’m in a bind here. I just have too many muffins.”

“Then I’ll do the right thing and take them off your hands.” The words caught in his throat as he took the basket she offered, holding the wicker handle awkwardly because his hands were already full. Geez, the smell. He inhaled, his mouth watering at the cake-like sweetness of muffin and baked blueberry.

“Sorry to make you suffer.” Humor laced her words. “You might hate my baking.”

“It smells terrible, but I’m a man of my word. I won’t let these go to waste. It’s my duty.”

“I tucked a little bit of—” Before she could finish her sentence, the wind exploded with a sudden violent down burst. Dirt went flying. The basket nearly tore out of his hand. The lantern went out.

“Twister weather.” She gasped.

“Go get your daughter,” he ordered, turning the horses toward Claire’s barn. His was too far away. “I’ll close up the best I can. You run down to the cellar and stay there. Go.”

“What about you?” She was already running, calling over her shoulder and then she was lost to the darkness.

He didn’t bother to answer. He knew how to take care of himself, but a woman like Claire, she was used to being looked after. He remembered how committed Clay had been to protecting and caring for his pretty young wife.

Couldn’t blame him there. Not one bit.
Joshua’s chest tightened, making it hard to breathe as he lunged onto Thunder’s back and charged through the fields, leading Lightning. He’d lost sight of Claire, but when he dismounted in front of the barn, he spent a few moments searching the dark windows of the house. Had she and her daughter made it to the storm cellar safely?

He saw nothing, and the horses grew restless when lightning flared overhead like a jagged finger streaking through the clouds. Overhead thunder crashed immediately, shaking the earth beneath his boots. He ran indoors with the horses, locked them in the first stalls he came to and raced through the structure, closing up doors as he went.

No rain hit. No hail came. Yet. Just the howling wind. It knocked over a shovel outside the barn, slamming it against the siding with a resounding bang before carrying it away. Hay came loose from haystacks outside and blew in as he wrestled with the hayloft doors. The wind battled him, so he put some muscle into it. Just as the first half-door began to shut, he caught sight of Claire’s shadow scurrying across the backyard with her child in her arms. She knelt and disappeared beneath ground.

He tied the half-door shut, hardly feeling the sting as the wind whipped needle-like bits of hay against his cheek. Knowing she was safe made his chest cinch tight with emotions he didn’t want to feel. Feelings came with risk. Life was better if you kept your heart like stone. That woman he’d married could get to him—if he let her.

“Joshua!” Claire’s voice carried on the wind, broken apart by it, but he heard it just the same.

He squinted into the dark and there she was, just a hint of movement then nothing. He held his breath, waiting for her to appear. The night hid her, giving him no other glimpse until he heard the barn door squeak as she opened and closed it. The pad of her shoes came closer in the dark.

This is what it would sound like if she were coming to my bed.
The thought popped into his head, unbidden and shameful. He really had to stop lusting after her, but she was his wife. Maybe that’s why he no longer felt the sting of guilt—just longing. She appeared at the ladder, climbing gracefully into the dark loft.

“Don’t close the door.” She came toward him, a shadow amid shadows. “This is the best spot to watch for a twister. You can see the entire southeastern sky.”

“I
was going to keep watch.” He cleared his throat, unsteady, not prepared for her nearness. His pulse rate beat wildly as his sleeve brushed her shoulder.
“You
should be down cellar with your daughter. You didn’t leave her alone down there, did you?”

“My mother is with her. Ma came running across the yard and got to the cellar well before I did. You aren’t planning on weathering out the storm in the barn, are you?”

“No. My plan was to stand outside and watch for any tornados on their way by.”

“Watch for them?” She sounded amused. “If one comes along, what are you going to do? Let it blow you away?”

“I want to keep an eye on the horses and the land.” The wind gusted hard, howling like a wild thing. Specs of dirt and debris scoured them and he moved in front of her to protect her. “What do I have to do to get you to go back to the cellar?”

“Accept that you aren’t alone anymore. You have me.” Her hand lighted on his chest, and although it was too dark to see her expression, he could feel it in the air between them. Caring seemed to chase away the wind and still the world. “I know you can’t stand the idea of hiding in the cellar and not being able to see what’s happening to this place.”