Summer Moon (26 page)

42

Reed found her lightly dozing on top of her bed, still dressed in the ridiculous, oversize pants Charm had given her. She had unbuttoned her shoes, but hadn’t taken them off.

He gently nudged her shoulder. She stirred.

“Sit up, Kate. You’ll sleep better with the road dust off.” He slipped his arm around her and helped her sit up. Then he knelt down, pulled off her shoes, and stripped away her stockings.

“No.” Drowsy, she attempted to push him away. “I’m too sleepy.”

“Let me, Kate.” It was the least he could do.

Now that Daniel was safe, glorious relief had settled inside him, and everything Kate had done came into focus. She had dedicated herself to Daniel’s care, enough to risk life and limb to go into Comanche territory. Any other woman would have walked out of their lives weeks ago.

But not Kate. Not his stubborn spinster.

Reed smiled down at the top of her head recalling how she had helped them all in one way or another, he, Charm, Daniel.

And she had asked nothing in return.

He picked her up and carried her down the hall, where he lowered her to a stool in the middle of the floor. The water was still steaming, fogging the tiny room. From a table in the corner, a pair of candelabra cast the room in flickering shadows.

“Reed?” She was awake, barely, sleepily looking around.

He reached for the buttons on her purloined shirt. She made a halfhearted attempt to brush his hands aside. “Let me do this for you, Kate. Let me, please.”

Somewhere between the second and third button, she stopped resisting. Somewhere between the third and fourth, he became fully aroused.

He leaned forward, pressed his lips to the tender white skin of her throat, and slowly opened the front of her shirt—
his
shirt—revealing a deep violet silk chemise. An insert of lace revealed bare breasts beneath it.

So daring. So unexpected. A spinster wearing a tantalizing, revealing, violet undergarment. Her breasts were full, her hard nipples enticing. Unable to resist, he slipped his palms beneath her breasts, rubbed his thumbs over the lace across her nipples. He expected her to pull away. Instead, Kate sighed and leaned into him. He closed his eyes.

She sat motionless while he cupped her breasts, stroking her. Collecting himself, he pulled out each and every pin until her long hair fell around her shoulders and down to her waist like dark, rich sable. It wasn’t until he tried to slip his hand into her waistband to unfasten the ties that she stirred and pushed him away.

He yielded, letting her cling to her modesty. “I’ll turn around while you undress and get into the tub.”

“But . . .” She kept her eyes closed and her hands crossed over her breasts, unwilling to look at him even though she was still dressed.

“I’ll stay and wash your hair for you. Scrub your back.”

“Oh, my, no.”

He leaned into her and whispered, “Oh, my, yes,” against her lips. Then he got to his feet, crossed his arms over his chest and turned around.

Kate’s limbs went liquid as she sat on the low stool, staring at Reed’s back.

All this hot steam has gone to my head.

She felt downright dizzy and weak as a kitten. Her heart was pounding like the bass drum of the Lone Star Cowboy Band.

He had touched her breasts. Kissed her not once, but twice.

She hadn’t protested, not any more than a whimper. But why would she? She was her mother’s daughter.

Wasn’t this what she had wanted ever since the first time? What she had longed for?

Her head told her to send him away. Her heart begged her not to. To deny him would mean denying herself.

Torn by the same conflicting emotions she felt the day she first read his father’s advertisement—as if she were standing on a crossroads of a whole new life—she quickly reminded herself that she had turned down the wrong road once already. She glanced up at Reed; then pulled off the shirt and let it fall to the floor.

“Do you ever think about that night, Kate?”

His voice startled her so much that she nearly fell off the stool. “What night?”

“You know what night. The night I was feverish. The night you gave yourself to me.”

She skimmed Charm’s lucky chemise over her head and threw it atop the shirt. The windowless room was still warm, but she shivered anyway as she stood and quickly stripped off her pants before she lost her nerve. Careful not to slip on the damp floor, she quickly stepped into the tub and sank below the waterline. Thankful for the weak candlelight, she made a futile attempt to cover herself with her arms and hands.

Frustrated, she let go a long sigh. “I could lie to you, Reed. I could say that I have forgotten all about it, for believe me, I
have
tried to forget. But I’ve thought about that night every single day since it happened.” Her voice faded to a whisper. “Every single one.”

She sensed him there behind her before he asked her to lean forward, and then he wet her hair, expertly lathered, shampooed, and rinsed it. Then he dipped a piece of soap and a washrag into the water.

“I wish things could have been different,” he said. “I’ll be honest with you. What I remember of that night seems like a dream. It all comes back to me in fits and starts.”

He slipped his hand behind her, lathered her shoulders, massaging them. He moved the soapy rag lower, to her waist, then ran it up and down her spine to its base.

She bit her lips, stifled a moan, trying to deny what his touch made her feel.

“I envy you,” he went on. “I wish I could remember all of it.”

His hands trailed through the slick soap on her back, slipped around to her breasts. He palmed them from behind, rubbed her nipples with his thumbs until she went as hot and liquid as the water around her. She closed her eyes, let her head drop against the edge of the tub.

Reed came around to the side of the tub, leaned over, and kissed her mouth. She kissed him back. Slowly, curiously, she traced his lips with her tongue, tasted and savored both Reed and the tenderness of the stolen moment.

When the kiss ended, he ran his tongue down her wet neck, brought it back to her ear, and made her shiver to her toes.

“I wish I could remember everything. I need to remember you, Kate,” he said, his warm breath brushing her ear before he sucked on her earlobe. “What I recall is that it was never like that for me before. Never. Not knowing for certain has been driving me crazy. Don’t you ever wonder, Kate? Don’t you need to know if it was exactly the way you remember?”

He took her chin in his hand, made her look into his eyes. She felt herself falling into them. Why lie when she knew he could see the truth plain as day in her eyes?

The very last shred of her weak and worthless resistance fell away. “Yes. I need to know,” she whispered.

He kissed her like a drowning man in need of air. The washcloth was lost somewhere in the tub, the soap forgotten, melting on the bottom.

This time he used his hands with no pretense of trying to bathe her. She let them wander over her seeking each and every hidden pleasure point, let him introduce her to places and feelings she never knew existed on her or in her.

She wanted more, begged for more than the gentle touch of his hand, and he obliged, stroking until she cried out with the shattering release. The sound of her voice echoed against the walls of the tiny room. Boneless and replete, Kate lazed against the back of the tub.

Reed moved away, sat on the stool, and pulled off his boots and socks. His hands were awkward. He fumbled with his shirt buttons, ended up tearing the last two out of the holes, wadding up his shirt, and tossing it aside. Once his pants and drawers were added to the heap, he grabbed a towel and spread it on the floor beside the tub.

Within a handful of heartbeats he was back at Kate’s side. She stirred, gazed up at him, her thoughts unreadable.

“What I remember most from that night is that
you
pleasured
me
, Kate.”

She pressed her fingertips to his lips. He sucked them into his mouth, lightly bit them, teased them with his tongue.

“I know what I did.” She sighed and turned her face away.

“Don’t be ashamed, Kate. Never be ashamed.” He slipped his arms beneath her back and as he stood, drew her up. She came out of the tub slippery and wet, pressed fully against his length. There was no hiding his arousal. There was no hiding anything between them now.

He lifted her out of the tub, slid her down his body, skin against skin, took her with him until they were kneeling on the towel. He kissed her while they were pressed together from knees to lips. She clung to him as if she would never let go.

Easing her down to the towel, he released her long enough to spread her damp hair out around her head and then ran his hands over the thick rippling waves.

With hands and fingers he memorized every inch of her face, neck, shoulders, arms, as she watched. His hands mapped every curve and line, her breasts, her belly.

He touched her between her thighs, wanting only to give her pleasure. Her eyes closed, her lips parted.

“I need you, Kate,” he whispered. “I need you.”

He rose over her, parted her legs, found her warm and wet and willing. Kate wrapped her arms around him in silent invitation, an assurance that she understood what he wanted, that she wanted him, too.

He eased into her, felt her body open to accommodate him. He began to move slowly, reminding himself this was only her second time. But Kate began to thrust back, to lift her hips, inviting him to take all she had to give.

She was tight and hot as fire. She was innocent. She was wanton. Better than any memory.

She was Kate. Knowing that made having her infinitely more erotic.

His wants and needs were so deep, her sultry voice with its encouraging sighs and moans so unbridled and fervent, that it was over quickly, but he had the satisfaction of knowing he had brought her to fulfillment again before he surrendered.

They lay side by side on the damp, wadded towel. Droplets of water spattered across the varnished wood floor and shone like tiny stars in the candlelight.

Reed felt her shiver, traced her thigh. Goose bumps blossomed over her skin. He wrapped his arms around her and held her close.

“What do you say we find out if that water is still warm?” He whispered against her neck, amazed at the softness of her skin, the purity of it, golden ivory in the candlelight.

“We?” Her warm breath tickled his ear.

“With a bit of imagination that tub should hold two.”

43

She overslept and woke up alone.

Kate rushed while getting dressed, pulling on her stockings and rifling through her drawers until she found a clean white chemise.

She closed her eyes, wondered about Charm’s lucky one.

Dear Saint Perpetua, what happened to my clothes?

Were they still on the bathing room floor?

She slipped on her petticoat, tied the ties, and then donned her calico gown.

What now?

Where do we go from here?

More than once she paused to study herself in the oval mirror hanging over her chest of drawers, pressed her palms against her cheeks and wondered how on earth— since she was barely able to look herself in the eye—she could ever face Reed again.

She picked up her precious bottle of rose water, dabbed some on her throat and wrists. Before she left Maine she had splurged on a small amount, hoping to please her new husband. She wondered if Reed had ever really noticed the scent.

They had made love again in the tub and then in her bed and fell asleep in each other’s arms.

He had whispered words of need, of want, but not of love.

Deftly, as she braided her hair, the recollection of his strong hands, of the care he took as he had washed her hair for her, nearly took her breath away.

What will I say to him?

How should I act?

As she tied a black ribbon around her braid, she suddenly remembered that Charm was in Lone Star. Dear Saint Perpetua, there was breakfast to be made!

She found her shoes under the bed, struggled to pull them on. The leather was cracked and dusty, the heels worn down on the outer edges. She struggled buttoning them up and then flew down the hall.

Daniel wasn’t in his room. The bed was unmade, his dirty clothes lay in a heap on the floor, the dresser drawers were open.

Not again.

She rushed to the open window, drew aside the thin muslin curtain, and sagged with relief against the window frame when she saw Daniel currying Reed’s horse in the corral.

Although she didn’t see Reed anywhere, Scrappy stood close by, alternately repairing a section of fence and glancing at Daniel.

She went downstairs, expecting to find Reed. There was a pile of dirty dishes and a frying pan with a coat of egg stuck to the bottom, but no Reed. When she stepped out the back door and called to Scrappy, he motioned toward the front of the house.

Standing beneath the shade of the wide veranda, she debated whether to go find him or to put it off. She could take the coward’s way out and go back to the kitchen, make breakfast, and wait for him to find her, or she could track him down.

Whatever she decided, sooner or later she was going to have to face him. Sooner or later they were going to have to talk about last night.

It was another hot, dry day. Not yet ten in the morning, and it already felt hot enough to bake bread outside. She walked around the veranda to the front. Sure enough, Reed was there, standing beside the hitching post, staring down the road.

Kate followed his gaze and recognized Gideon and Winifred Greene’s buggy as it came up the drive.

Although she was loath to see them again, at least with the advent of the Greenes’ arrival there would be no time to speak of last night. Smoothing down the front of her gown, Kate walked over to the steps. Reed heard her and turned around.

His jaw was set. There was tension in his stance, but at least when he looked up at her, he smiled.

“Good morning, Kate.”

The sound of his voice held the power of a caress. Her knees went weak, but somehow she managed to walk down the steps and cross to where he was standing. Shielding her eyes with her hand, she concentrated on the buggy already halfway up the road.

“They must have started out before dawn.” He was standing beside her.

“I was afraid we hadn’t seen the last of them.”

“The last thing I need is them bothering Daniel right now.” He looked down at her again. “Let me handle this, Kate.”

“Do you mean don’t talk?”

He smiled again. “That’s exactly what I mean.”

Gideon turned the rig and set the brake. Reed and Kate crossed the yard to meet them as Gideon gave Winifred a hand climbing down. She was spry for her age, still wearing the same dour expression as when Kate first met her. It matched her somber clothes.

“We didn’t realize you were here,” Gideon told Reed without any word of greeting.

“I’ve taken over running the ranch.” He paused and then casually slipped his arm around Kate’s shoulders.

Surprised by such an outward display, Kate started to pull away until he squeezed her shoulder.

“You’ve already met my wife, Kate,” he said.

As one, the Greenes looked her up and down from head to toe.

“We have, the day we . . .” Gideon began.

“. . . came for Daniel and she turned us away,” Winifred finished. “Real hard to believe you remarried, Reed.”

“Why’s that?”

Kate could tell he did not care for the Greenes any more than she did.

“After what happened to our poor Becky, it’s a wonder you could find anyone who’d want you.” Gideon rocked forward on his toes and then back on his heels.

“But then, she’s not from around here, as I recall.” Winifred was staring at Reed’s hand on Kate’s shoulder. “We came to see our grandson. We’ve got a right to see him.”

“You certainly do,” Reed acknowledged with a firm nod. “But not today. He’s still getting settled in, and I don’t want him upset.”

Gideon’s eyes hardened. “We went to town. Found out one of those whores is living here, too . . .”

“. . . and we don’t want the boy brought up around filth.” Winifred primly folded her hands at her waist.

Reed kept a firm hold on Kate now. She was not about to let them malign Charm, but neither was Reed.

“Who I hire is none of your business,” he said.

“Where
is
the boy?” Gideon craned his neck as if he could see around the width of the house.

“Working out back.”

“When we saw him a few weeks ago he couldn’t even speak English.”

“He’s still pretty quiet.” Reed glanced down at Kate and quickly looked away.

She bit her lips and stared at the ground.

Gideon appeared to be gathering his courage. He tugged on the hem of his jacket, held his hand over his heart. “I won’t beat around the bush, Reed. Winifred and I want that boy. You owe it to us to hand him over. He was Becky’s boy after all, and since we don’t have her anymore, we want to raise him. We figure it’ll just be a matter of time before you take off again to rejoin the Rangers. You never wanted anything to do with this place.”

Winifred picked up where he left off. “You got a new wife now. You and her will have a family of your own. Pretty soon, Daniel will wind up being the stepson around here. Why not give him to us . . .”

“. . . so we can bring him up proper?” Gideon finished.

Kate realized she had been holding her breath until Reed let go of her shoulder and took a step toward them. “Daniel is
my
son. He belongs to
me
, and he’s staying right here on Lone Star. I’d appreciate it if you left now, because like I said, I don’t want him upset. He’s just settling down.” He paused, collected himself. “That’s not to say you aren’t welcome to visit some other time.”

Kate was so very, very glad to hear him claim the boy that it was a moment or two before she realized he was already helping Winifred back into the high-sprung buggy.

Kate wished she were relieved to see them go, but now that she was alone with Reed again, she had no idea what to say or do.

Reed took off his hat, wiped his forehead with his shirt-sleeve, and tried not to let the encounter with the Greenes haunt him. They were gone, hopefully for a long, long while. They had every right to visit Daniel, but after the way Becky turned out, there was no way he wanted the boy around them for any length of time.

They still blamed him for Becky’s death and always would, but since in many ways he still blamed himself, he couldn’t fault them for that.

Kate was still standing by the hitching post, watching the buggy rattle down the lane. He took a deep breath and wished what he was about to do would go as easy as his confrontation with the Greenes.

He walked back to where Kate was standing in her pretty flowered dress, looking radiant. He had never seen her more beautiful or more uncertain.

“Will you come up to the office with me, Kate?”

She paused, fingering the end of her braid. “What about Daniel?”

“Scrappy will keep an eye on him.” Reed started toward the house. “Come with me, please.” When he realized she had not budged, he added, “Just to talk.”

“How is Daniel? I was surprised to see him outside.”

“It’s like he’s moving around in his sleep. I dressed him, made him his breakfast. He picked at some eggs but only ate a few mouthfuls. He acts like sad walking.”

“Can you blame him?”

He shook his head, holding the door for her. She passed through so close to him that he caught the scent of roses in her hair and shut his eyes. The scent intensified.

Once they were upstairs, Reed closed the office door. He had made the room his own, from the cluttered desk and the heavy leather chair to a map of Lone Star on the wall behind it. He walked over and opened a drawer, pulled out some folded papers, and then sat on the corner of the desk.

He held the papers out to her.

“What are these?” She took them and looked down.

“The legal documents that Jeb Cooley drew up for us.”

He waited while she unfolded the pages and quickly scanned them. His signature was already at the bottom of each of them. He wished it weren’t, but he had signed them in Jeb’s office before he had come home.

He took a deep breath, looked out the window, across the lifts and folds of land, across endless miles of grass and blue sky. The land was everything his father had worked for. Lone Star was synonymous with the Benton name.

He watched her hand tighten on the corner of the pages. Saw the color drain from her face as she read them. He wished he didn’t owe her total honesty.

“Let’s stay married, Kate. Don’t sign those papers.” He scratched his jaw, shifted his hip, and tried to think of the right words to say. He thought of the things he had read in her letters, of all the things she wanted out of life.

“I don’t know that I’ll ever be able to love you the way you want, the way you deserve to be loved. I don’t know if I can ever love that way again. But we’re good together. I’d be a fool to deny that, and so would you. Daniel needs a mother. Most of all, he needs a family to pull him out of this.

“If you tear those up, Kate, no one will ever know those proxy papers were forged. We can even get married before a judge if you want and file new ones. Reverend Marshall might even consent to marry us. I’m sure he wouldn’t want you living in sin.”

After last night he hoped that she would at least consider his proposal, but seeing her shock and the way her expression shuttered, he realized he had just made one of the most fatal errors of his life.