Small Treasures (9 page)

It wasn't right. None of this was right. She shouldn't be here, he told himself. She should never have come. Didn't she know that when she left, the loneliness would come again? And that this time it would kill him?

Silently he set the wounded rabbit back into its cage, closed the door, and walked away. He couldn't stay. Not another minute. If he did, he just might give in to his body's demands and kiss her until she couldn't breathe anymore. Instantly his traitorous mind conjured up the vision of Abby in his arms, her perfect mouth puffy from his kisses. The dream Abby reached up and smoothed the palms of her tiny hands over his broad chest while her golden eyes looked at him with hunger.

A sharp, physical pain stabbed him when he realized suddenly that the dream would never happen. He jammed his powerful fists into his pockets helplessly and called himself all kinds of a fool for even thinking about it. Why would a woman like Abby want him? He snorted sullenly. She wouldn't. And he'd best get used to it.

"Samuel!"

He groaned but stopped short. Her quick, light footsteps came up behind him.

"Samuel," she said softly.

"Abby, I got work to do. You best get on to the cabin now." His voice gruff, he looked straight ahead, not trusting himself to look down into her eyes.

"I will, Samuel." She laid one hand on his forearm, and he jerked at her touch. "But first," she continued, "I want to thank you for sharing your animals with me."

Slowly, against his will, Samuel's head swiveled to look at her. Her face was tilted up, a soft smile on her lips. He knew he'd never seen anything quite so lovely before.

"They ain't my animals, Abby," he said, his voice straining. "They don't belong to no body. When they're well, I'll let 'em go back where they belong."

"I know you will." Her smile didn't waver, and she squeezed his arm slightly. "That's what makes you so special, Samuel. You help those creatures, expecting nothing in return."

Her eyes moved over his face, and Samuel held perfectly still. He was stunned to realize that the quiet admiration shining on her features was for him. Suddenly she reached up, placed her palms on either side of his face and drew him down to her. She smoothed his long blond hair back and kissed him.

It was a quick kiss. Their lips had hardly touched before it was over. And yet… Samuel knew nothing would be the same for him again. Like an apple handed to a starving man, Abby's spontaneous kiss had only served to whet his appetite for more.

She released him and drew back. She didn't look the least bit embarrassed. Indeed, she looked quite pleased with herself. Samuel stood, like a great hulking statue, unsure of what to say and not certain he could get his voice to work even if something occurred to him.

"I'll let you get back to work now," Abby said finally. She turned and took a few steps, then stopped. Glancing over her shoulder, she offered, "You know, Samuel, I'd be happy to cut that hair for you."

He opened his mouth, but no words came out. It didn't matter, though. She was already walking toward the cabin, a song on the lips that had just kissed him.

Samuel pushed his hair out of his eyes, then rubbed his hand over his mouth. Abby kissed him.

# # #

He'd been gone all morning.

Abby dipped her hands into her bathwater, then let the hot water she'd captured roll down the length of her upraised arms. It felt delicious.

Sighing, she laid her head back against the end of the big metal tub and stared at the ceiling. The lavender-scented water lapped at her breasts with her movement, and some of it splashed over the side, making Harry skitter away uneasily.

Abby chuckled. She didn't even have to see the little dog to know exactly what he was doing. Both he and Maverick had watched her suspiciously while she filled the tub, ready to bolt at a moment's notice. But when they discovered that she was getting the water for herself, they'd both settled down on either side of the big tub.

She was glad of their company, though she couldn't help wondering why Samuel hadn't taken them with him when he'd left that morning. Usually, the three of them would spend the entire day traipsing around the surrounding woods. But today Samuel had slipped off quietly. He hadn't even stayed for breakfast.

Abby reached for the bar of soap on a nearby chair and began to build a lather between her hands. She probably shouldn't have kissed him, she knew. That was undoubtedly the reason behind Samuel's disappearance. It had to be. Why, all last night, she reminded herself, he'd hardly said a word. And she was getting exceptionally tired of his long silences. Even his shouting and carrying on was better than that.

She smoothed the lather over her legs and remembered the feel of his lips beneath hers. Soft and warm, his mouth had moved against hers in welcome, even if it was only briefly. She'd been sorely tempted to linger. To draw out the kiss, to know what it felt like to be held close in Samuel's arms. Quick, sudden heat flushed her cheeks at the memory of the surprised look on his face when she'd pulled away. No, she admitted silently, it was more than surprise. She'd shocked him.

Dunking her legs beneath the water's surface, Abby also acknowledged that she'd shocked herself as well. Oh, not with wanting to kiss him. That idea, she supposed, had been curling through her brain since the first time she'd seen him. What had so shocked her was her body's response to that brief joining of mouths. Even now her blood boiled far hotter than her bathwater, just at the memory.

She drew a shaky breath, then slapped her hand against the water. This had to stop. For heaven's sake. She had company coming to call in just a couple of hours! She couldn't very well spend the entire day lollygagging in the tub dreaming of a man who obviously wasn't the slightest bit interested in her!

Deliberately she stood up and reached for the towel. Bathwater rocked back and forth against her knees, and a chill swept over her wet flesh. Hurriedly Abby stepped out of the tub and crossed to the fire, turning her naked backside to the roaring blaze in the hearth while she toweled herself dry.

Samuel's breath caught in his throat. His fingers tightened over the windowsill, and he wouldn't have been surprised to hear the wood snap under the pressure.

He knew he shouldn't have returned to the cabin so early. He had planned on staying away all day. Just to give himself a chance to bring his desires under control again. And then, just when he thought he might be winning the war, he finds himself in a battle twice as nerve-wracking as the one before.

He wasn't sure how long he'd been standing in the cold staring through the window at Abby. But his feet were numb, and his chest felt as though it might explode for lack of air. He'd hardly been able to draw a breath.

Samuel never would have believed that he would come to this. A peeping Tom of all things! But if it had meant his life, he couldn't have looked away.

When she'd stuck those small shapely legs of hers in the air and then slowly rubbed the soapy lather over the length of them, he'd almost died. He'd watched the water lap and curl around her high, rounded breasts. He'd seen her erect nipples poke above the water's surface, and his mouth had ached to close around them. When Abby's lathered hands moved to her arms, then over her own breasts, Samuel's heart stopped. Her head thrown back, Abby's hands moved over the line of her neck, the soap lather leaving a trail of white foam everywhere she touched. Her lips curved into a smile, and he would have given his soul to know what she was thinking. She sat straighter in the tub and lifted handfuls of water to rinse the soap from her breasts. His jaw locked tightly as he watched the droplets of water cling to her small pink nipples for a moment before dropping into the water below.

The rigid pain of his loins pounded at him, but he couldn't look away. Instead, he watched in dry-mouthed fascination as her hands moved languidly over her wet flesh, touching all the intimate places he longed to know. Slowly she stroked her own flesh as a lover might. His mouth was so dry, it was strangling him.

Then, all at once, she stood up in the knee-high tub, and Samuel knew he was near death. A man could only take so much. In one lithe motion she jumped from her bath and moved to the fireplace. He groaned and tightened his grip on the windowsill when she turned her softly curved bottom to the heat of the fire, leaving him with a vision of her face, wreathed by damp curls, and her lush, pink, bath-heated nudity.

Painfully he shifted position slightly, never moving his gaze from the rise and fall of her breasts. He shuddered at the force of the need that shot through him like a lance. It was all he could do not to crash through the door and sweep her into his arms. His palms itched to hold her, caress her. His tongue moved out to lick dry lips, and he almost tasted her.

Gritting his teeth together, Samuel watched her slowly move the towel over her skin and ached to do it for her. She gracefully propped one foot on the hearth, then bent over to dry her leg. His gaze followed the towel's path. First, her small, dainty foot and ankle, then up her calf, around her knee, then sliding up and over her inner thigh.

His heart hammered in his chest, and the blood racing through his body roared in his ears. As her towel touched the honey-blond triangle of curls, the pain in Samuel's loins became too sharp to bear.

Groaning helplessly, he pushed away from the window and staggered back toward the woods. Behind him he heard the damn dogs barking from inside the cabin.

"What is it?" Abby wrapped the towel around her nudity and looked at the two dogs, now standing before the door. "Is someone out there?" She whispered the question, then stifled a soft laugh. Honestly, she told herself, it's not as if they're going to answer you!

Quietly she moved to the window. Edging around the glass, she stared out at the empty yard of the cabin. Nothing. No one.

She glanced down at the two dogs and frowned. "What's wrong with you two? There's no one there."

Harry and Maverick looked at her, then at each other. As one, then, they moved to the hearth and laid down, side by side.

"Bad dogs, you startled me." Abby threw another glance out the window. "For a moment I thought Samuel had come home early!" She laughed and added, "Wouldn't that have been embarrassing!"

# # #

Samuel stopped and stared at the cabin. Even at a distance of two hundred yards, he felt the unmistakable pull of Abby's presence. Dammit! he shouted inwardly. Don't start up again!

In the four hours since he'd torn himself from the sight of Abby's bath, he'd worked like a madman. His meaty hands still tingled from the sting of the wood-handled ax he'd swung for more than three of those hours.

He grimaced and acknowledged that at least one good thing had come from his frustration. He'd finally managed to chop down the damn lightning-struck pine at the edge of his land. Samuel'd been meaning to get to that chore for two months. But he'd put it off. And today he'd been glad he had. The hours he'd spent chopping down the tree, then cutting it up in lengths for the fireplace, had finally cooled the raging fires in his blood. Of course, the bath he took in the icy-cold river water after working probably helped.

And now, as soon as he got within shouting distance of the cabin, he felt the rush of desire again. Well, goddammit, he'd just have to get over it. He wasn't about to leave his home for the next six weeks. Not with winter comin' on. There was too much to do. So, somehow, he was going to have to find a way to live with Abby without lookin' at her.

He snorted derisively. Not likely.

But hell, he was a strong man. He'd been through Indian battles, been stranded in a mountain cave during a blizzard, been in a hand to hand fight with a bear that didn't take kindly to company… surely he was strong enough to overcome his own body!

So then, he asked himself… how come you're standin' in the cold instead of sittin' in that cabin? He knew the answer, and though it took some doing, he once again started walking toward his home.

As he drew nearer, he distinctly heard the sounds of three or more voices. Immediately he dropped to a crouch and came up on the cabin from the side to prevent anyone from spotting him through a window. His brow wrinkled in thought, he went on. Stealthily, Samuel moved across the open yard. It wouldn't be the first time some drifter had come upon the cabin and made himself to home. The last time was only a month ago. Of course, one look at Samuel had convinced the man to take off for the high country.

But now, Samuel told himself, there was Abby to consider. Suppose some men were even now holed up in that cabin doing God knows what to her? A powerful fear-induced rage swept over him. The kind of raw anger he'd spent his entire life trying to avoid. His hands tightened into fists, and he fervently wished he'd taken his rifle with him when he'd left that morning.

But all he had with him was the razor-sharp axe. It would have to do.

Only a few steps away from the cabin, Samuel squared his broad shoulders and charged the door. Shouting at the top of his lungs, he went crashing through the wood. The ax raised, feet planted wide apart in a combat stance, he stared helplessly at the stunned faces turned toward him.

Minerva Mullins's hand was at her throat, her eyes wide. Charity Whitehall's big body was half out of her chair as though she had every intention of doing battle. And there were two other women, besides Abby, that Samuel didn't know. One of the strangers took a long look at him and swooned gracefully to the floor. The other's lips were moving frantically, though no sound could be heard.

Samuel lowered the ax and let his gaze focus on Abby. His broad chest heaving, he ignored the other women. Gratefully he saw that Abby was already rushing to his side.

"Samuel!" she said with a forced gaiety. "I'm so glad you've returned in time to visit with our guests!" She took the ax from his suddenly limp hand and leaned it against the wall. Then, her fingers tight around his wrist, she led him to the table. Pushing him into a chair, Abby said, "You remember Minerva Mullins."

He nodded and Minerva returned it, slowly lowering her hand from her throat to her lap.