Small Treasures (19 page)

Minerva chuckled and followed after them.

"You can come for him tomorrow," she called over her shoulder.

Abby barely heard the other woman. She nodded absently and turned her gaze back to Samuel. His back was to her. She stared openly as the muscles in his back and shoulders flexed and bunched with his movements. A curl of excitement laced with a pang of nerves crept through her body. Her mouth was suddenly dry and breathing was difficult.

She hugged the folded quilt to her chest and told herself that if anything were to hap pen between the two of them, it would be up to her to start it. Briefly Abby wondered if she would have the courage to go to him again. After that last embarrassing scene in the barn, it wouldn't be easy.

Just then, Samuel paused beside one of the horses. He reached out and ran his hand down the length of the animal's neck. Even from a distance Abby could see the gentleness in his touch.

She shivered and hugged the quilt tighter. Her mind was made up. Samuel wasn't going to ignore her tonight, she told herself firmly. He loved her. And she loved him. Tonight, she would show him how much. Even if she had to go to the barn and drag him back to the cabin.

Abby lit the lamp, checked the fire for the fifth time, then moved across the room to the bed. She bent over and tugged at the bright flowered quilt, smoothing out imaginary wrinkles. She was dawdling and she knew it. It was only that she wanted everything to be perfect.

Straightening up, Abby looked around the cabin and smiled. The cozy room looked nothing like the worn-out, dirty place it had been when she'd first arrived. But it was more than the curtains and tablecloth and even more than the new paint. The feel of the room was different now. Instead of lonely seclusion, the little cabin offered warmth — comfort.

The fire snapped and the flame in the lamp wavered, sending dancing shadows of light moving about the walls. A pot of stew hung from the hook over the fire and bubbled in time with the flames. The door to her un finished room was closed, and Harry and Maverick were both stretched out, asleep before the hearth.

She glanced down at her best gown. A soft sea green, the bodice molded itself to her body. And above the low-cut neckline, a narrow band of slightly frayed white lace framed the tops of her breasts.

Everything was ready.

Abby clasped her hands together tightly and took a deep, shuddering breath. This might have been much easier. If only Samuel had said something on the ride back to the mountain. But he hadn't. It was as if he was deliberately closing her out of his life. His heart.

She flicked a quick glance at the closed front door. He was in the barn, she knew. Just where he'd been all week. All she had to do was cross that yard and somehow get him to come to the cabin. A nervous laugh shook her. And then what? She had no idea how to go about getting a man to bed her.

Abby shook her head. She wouldn't worry about that now. First she had to get him in the cabin. Later she would worry about the rest of it. She looked over her shoulder at the big bed. Somehow, without the bundling board in the center, it was more… disquieting.

She looked away and turned her thoughts to Samuel. His voice, his eyes, the warmth of his touch. She breathed deeply and let the now familiar curl of excitement spread and grow until her limbs almost shook with it.

Before her too rational brain could intrude again, Abby walked to the front door, threw it open, and hurried to the barn.

She stopped just inside the building and listened for a moment to the soothing sounds of the horses' familiar movements as they settled in for the night. Her gaze shifted over the barn, searching for Samuel. Then he rose and moved away from the concealing stall. Her breath caught and she just managed to stifle a gasp.

At the far end of the building Samuel stood in the soft glow of a solitary lamp. He finished pulling off his shirt, and Abby's gaze locked on his muscular chest and brawny arms. She'd never seen him like this before. When they'd shared the cabin, he'd removed his clothing in the dark… and she'd always kept her eyes tightly closed anyway.

But now Abby found she couldn't see enough of him. The length of the barn was too great a distance for her, and so she began to walk toward him. Her footsteps were soft on the straw-covered dirt, but still he heard her.

Samuel turned to face her, and as she came even closer, he reached behind him for the shirt he'd just discarded. She wanted to tell him not to put it on. She wanted to see his body in the lamplight. She wanted to run her hands over that broad chest and feel his heart beating.

But his eyes as he watched her were wary, and she didn't want to take a chance on ruining her carefully laid plan.

"What is it, Abby?" he said as she stopped before him.

"Uh," she cleared her throat. "I need more firewood, Samuel. I was wondering if you would…"

The watchfulness in his gaze softened. Quickly his fingers moved down the row of buttons, closing his shirt front. "Sure. You go on. I'll be along."

"Thank you, Samuel," she said and forced herself to turn and walk back to the house. But she let a small smile touch her lips. He hadn't seen through her little he. Thankfully, he didn't seem to recall that he'd just filled the woodbox two days ago.

As she crossed the yard, Abby tossed a quick look up at the night sky. There seemed to be so many more stars here than there were in Maryland. Or maybe it was just that she was so much closer to them, here on the mountain. Her gaze dropped to the lighted windows of her home, and Abby knew that whatever the reason, she belonged there. In that cabin. With Samuel.

She sent a silent prayer to heaven asking for the strength she would need to convince Samuel.

In a few short minutes he entered the cabin, his arms wrapped around a half-dozen good-sized logs. Samuel walked to the woodbox, lifted the lid, looked inside, and stopped.

He turned his head and looked at her from over his shoulder. "What are you doin', Abby? You've got plenty of wood here." His voice was soft, almost regretful.

She closed and bolted the front door before answering him. "I'm sorry, Samuel. It's just that I wanted to… "

He dropped the load of wood into the box, slammed the lid, and faced her uneasily. "You wanted what?"

"To…" Her face cleared and she smiled brightly. "To have company for a late sup per."

His brows drew together. "Supper?"

"Yes," she said quickly, moving to the fire place and swinging the cooking hook out. "With Luke at the Mullinses' tonight, well, I didn't want to eat alone." She lifted the lid with one towel-wrapped hand and gave the stew a few quick stirs with the other. The damp aroma drifted up into the stillness.

"Thanks," Samuel said gruffly, "but I ain't hungry." He moved for the door.

Abby dropped the lid back onto the pot with a clatter and hurried to head him off. When she stood in front of him, she tossed the towel to the table a few feet away and forced herself to look up at him. For one long, agonizing moment she wished desperately that she had the knowledge that Sarah Dumont and her girls possessed. Then she banished all thoughts of anyone but the man before her.

His pale green eyes were shuttered. She couldn't read his feelings, but knew by his rigid posture that he wasn't going to bend.

Slowly, hesitantly, Abby reached for him. In a flash of movement Samuel grasped her wrist in his strong fingers before she could touch him.

"Abby… "he groaned, "don't do this. You don't know what you're askin'."

"Yes," she breathed and stepped even closer. "Yes, I do know, Samuel." She made no effort to pull her hand free of his gentle but firm grip. Instead, she lifted her other hand and skimmed her fingers lightly over his chest.

His breathing staggered, but he didn't move away.

Deliberately then, Abby pushed the first button of his shirt free. When he still made no move, she went on to the next one. She felt his body jerk with her every touch, and his fingers tightened on her wrist. Slowly, inch by inch, his shirt front was opened to her view.

She glanced up at his face and saw that he was staring blankly at the wall behind her. His jaw tight, lips pressed together, he looked as though he was awaiting execution. Abby ignored his pained expression. He loved her. She knew he did.

With her one free hand Abby pushed the edges of his shirt farther apart, baring his hard, muscled chest. His sun-bronzed flesh was dusted with fine, reddish-blond hair that trailed down his chest to disappear beneath the waistband of his pants.

Abby laid the flat of her palm against his skin. Gently her hand glided over Samuel's flesh as she struggled for the air that wouldn't come. His body quivered beneath her hand, and when her fingers toyed with his pale, flat nipple, Samuel jerked convulsively and snatched her hand away.

Now he held both her hands, and though he was gentle, his grip was such that she couldn't break away. Abby's legs were shaking, and she heard her own blood pounding in her ears. A warm, damp heat spiraled through her and centered at the core of her desire.

Looking into his eyes, Abby willed him to see her need for him. Willed him to acknowledge his own need.

"Abby," he whispered as his fingers moved over her wrists, "you gotta stop this. Now." She leaned toward him. "No, Samuel. won't stop." He groaned and let his head fall back.

Abby moved closer until her breasts were within a hair of touching him. "Samuel… " Her soft breath blew at his chest. She waited until he looked at her again. "I don't want to stop. And I know you don't really want me to."

"Yes," he ground out tightly. "Yes, I do."

"No." She smiled and shook her head gently. "You're trying to protect me, Samuel. Whether from you or myself, I'm not sure… but either way, it's too late."

He snorted. "It's not too late yet, Abby. Not yet."

Abby leaned closer and placed a soft kiss on his chest. She smiled when his muscles contracted. His fingers loosened on her wrists, and she slipped them free. Slowly, teasingly, she moved her palms up over his flesh until she reached his shoulders. Then she pushed his shirt down over his arms until it fell to the floor, unheeded.

Samuel shuddered as her hands moved over him. His lips began to move in a way that she'd noticed whenever he was upset.

Abby moved her hands to cradle his face. Immediately his muttering stopped. When his gaze met hers, she said softly, "Don't protect me, Samuel. Love me."

For a long, agonizing moment Abby waited. Then he groaned in surrender and reached for her.

Chapter Thirteen

Samuel lifted her easily and held her close. Abby's lips parted for his kiss, and when their mouths met, she wrapped her arms around his neck and clung to him.

All hesitation and nervousness fled, and she eagerly opened her mouth to him. His tongue swept inside, and her breath caught in her throat. A warm, heady desire raced through her veins, making her flesh oversensitive to his every touch.

Samuel moved his lips to her throat and lavished kisses down the length of her neck. His strong hands at her waist lifted her higher until his lips found the tops of her breasts.

Hands on his shoulders, Abby arched against him, letting her head fall back on her neck. His mouth hungrily moved over her flesh, and she sensed his frustration when he couldn't reach enough of her.

She straightened in his grasp and lifted her hands to the back of her gown. He held her effortlessly and stared up into her eyes as she slowly unbuttoned her dress. Just as when she'd unbuttoned his shirt, Abby somehow knew instinctively to move without hurry. The waiting, the unfulfilled hunger, brought its own rewards.

One by one, she freed the hooks from their places. As the bodice of her dress dipped lower with each inch of freedom, Abby watched Samuel's gaze darken with a need that matched her own. When the last hook had been un done, she pushed the sleeves of her gown down off her shoulders, letting the material drape over Samuel's arms. A muscle in his cheek twitched, and she knew he was holding himself in check.

Deliberately then, Abby untied the ribbon of her chemise and slid the straps down her arms. It was only then, when she had bared herself to his gaze, that she faltered for a moment. She had to fight down the instinctive urge to cover herself with her hands.

Instead, she cupped his face and smiled tremulously at him. Samuel turned his face and kissed her palm before bringing her bare breasts close. As Abby watched, her heart pounding, Samuel's mouth opened and then closed over one taut nipple.

Her hands moved to his shoulders and squeezed reflexively. She gasped aloud when

Samuel's tongue began to draw damp circles over the bud of her breast, and when he suck led her, Abby groaned and once more arched against him. He released her breast despite her sigh of disappointment and slowly lowered her body, her breasts skimming over his own chest.

When their bodies touched, Abby's eyes flew open at the contact. Her hands at his shoulders, she tried to pull herself closer to him. But suddenly he seemed to toss her gently, flipping her into the air and catching her in his arms to hold her cradled against him. Her head nestled against his chest, she listened to the ferocious pounding of his heart. She moved her hand across the breadth of him, smiling when she felt his skin tremble.

Samuel carried her to the bed, leaned down, and with one hand swept the quilt to the foot board. Gently he laid her down on the mat tress. Her chestnut hair dark against the white sheet, the bodice of her dress crumpled around her waist, she held out her arms to him.

"Abby" — his voice was hoarse — "God knows, it'd prob'ly kill me to stop now" — he drew in a shaky breath — "but I swear, if you say so… I will. If you changed your mind about this…"

"Samuel," she whispered softly, "don't stop."

All indecision left his features as he lowered himself to her side. He pulled her close against him, feeling the warmth of their joined bodies. How many nights, he asked himself, had he lain awake wanting nothing more than this? Just to hold her and be held. And now she was offering him so much more.