The Courting of Widow Shaw (22 page)

“It was innocent enough, Glory. A friend helped comfort another. There’s nothing wrong in that.”

Glory contemplated, her brows knitting together. “Are we…friends?”

She was much more to him, but for now, perhaps always, he’d have her think it so. “Well now, that’s up to you.”

She’d spent most of her time at Rainbow House hating him, or so she’d said. Steven wondered what emotions played havoc with her mind. He wondered how she truly felt about him. And he also wondered if she’d ever see him differently, as the man that he’d become, regardless of his upbringing.

Glory stared at him, her expression unreadable.

Steven used that time to rise, moving away from her enticing body and tempting mouth. He’d be her friend for as long as she needed him, but lying beside her had him thinking more than friendly thoughts. She’d blush down to her toes if she knew the path his mind had taken.

He bent to cover her to her chin with the sheet. “While you’re thinking on it, I’ll go check the horses. Go back to sleep if you’d like.”

Buddy, who’d been lying at the foot of the bed, took advantage of Steven’s leaving. The dog scooted forward and found the curve of Glory’s body then settled in. Without thinking, it seemed, her hand went to the dog’s fluffy head and she began to pet him.

“I’ll make breakfast,” she offered immediately.

Steven knew that although she needed more rest, she’d felt it her duty to cook for him. He shook his head. “No. You rest up some more. You didn’t get much sleep last night. I’m not all that hungry, anyway.”

Casting him a tentative look, she asked, “Are you sure?”

“I’m sure. I’ll see you later.”

She yawned and stretched out. Sleek as a cat, her arms rose above her head and once she settled down into the bed again, she nestled with Buddy. “I’ll make something special for supper.”

He nodded, wishing he could climb back in bed with her and hold her the way he had last night.
She
was the only “something special” he wanted. “You’ve got yourself a deal, honey.”

Glory closed her eyes and nodded slowly, drifting back to sleep before Steven had walked out of the room.

Glory burned supper. The special meal she’d promised Steven hadn’t turned out special at all. She’d ruined the pork that he’d brought back with him yesterday from the ranch where he’d bought his horses. Overcooked and tasting just this side of old leather, Steven had managed to chew and chew and chew until Glory thought his teeth would fall out. But he’d made no comment, even when her potato pudding had turned out watery and tasteless. The only thing edible from the meal was the leftover peach pie that Mattie had sent along. Glory denied herself a piece, losing her appetite all over again when she noted Steven’s steadfast expression.

He’d taken his punishment without qualm or complaint.

Tears stung her eyes so she turned away to wash the dishes. She poured water into the dry sink and took up a washcloth.

She stilled when Steven came up behind her. “Need some help?”

She shook her head, praying her tears wouldn’t flow, hoping he wouldn’t see her devastation over something so insignificant as a ruined meal. But Glory
was
devastated, for many reasons, the most prevalent being the state of her life at the moment. Coping with everything that had happened in the last year hadn’t been easy, but she’d survived, barely, until ruining one silly meal had brought it all to a head.

Doubts crept in. Steven had convinced her to stay with him here, but wouldn’t everyone be better off if she turned herself in?

Steven held out hope that she’d remember something soon. The nightmare she’d had last night weighed heavily on her mind. Was she on the verge of getting her memory back, or was that nightmare more a result of all the talk Merry had brought to her about Ned and his misgivings?

She’d been distracted while cooking up the meal. It had been the cause of its imminent destruction, but her distraction had gone further than her nightmare. Her mind had wandered off, daydreaming about waking up with Steven beside her. He’d stayed throughout the night, without pause, without her having to ask and when she awoke, she’d been happy to have him there.

Were they only friends? Or something more?

“Glory?” Steven’s question had gone unanswered.

“I’ve m-managed to spoil your dinner,” she said in a shaky voice, “the least I can do is clean up the kitchen.”

“It wasn’t that bad.”

She whirled around to face him. “It was horrible. You nearly choked every time you took a swallow!”

Steven chuckled, a light coming into his dark eyes. “Okay, so it wasn’t exactly—”

When he hesitated, Glory pursued his replay. “Exactly what?”

“Edible.”

“There! You see. It
was
horrible.”

Tears dripped from her eyes. She hated to appear weak and ridiculous, but she couldn’t put a halt to her emotions. She couldn’t stop the onslaught of her feelings. She’d bottled them up too long and now, all she felt inside came barreling forth.

“Glory, what’s wrong? And don’t tell me ruining one meal’s got you so disturbed.”

She threw her hands up in despair. “It’s…everything.”

She turned abruptly and took up the washcloth, her tears flowing down freely. She scrubbed a pan with all of her might. Steven stood behind her and she fully expected him to sigh with exasperation, the way Boone always had whenever she’d been distraught.

But Steven had simply removed the washcloth from her hand and wrapped an arm around her waist. “Lean back, Glory. Lean on me.”

She sobbed. “S-seems I’m always…l-leaning on you.” But she rested back against him anyway and laid her head on his shoulder.

He was strong and powerful and so sure of everything. Being in his arms helped her connect with that. He helped strengthen her, pulling her out of her dark despair.

“You have every right to be frustrated and frightened. You have every right to hate what’s happened
to you. You go ahead and cry if that’s what you need to do right now. But remember this. You’re not alone. I’m here.”

She nodded slowly, letting his words calm her, letting his strength sustain her. She wasn’t alone. She had Steven. And he had her gratitude.

He tightened his hold on her. “I know what you need—to get out of here for a time. And my new mares need exercising. We can take a ride later on when the sun fully sets. Would you like that?”

She smiled and turned to him. She knew she must look a sight with a tear-streaked face and puffy eyes, but she didn’t care at the moment. “I’d love that, Steven.”

Glory rode a bay mare named Nutmeg, her cinnamon-brown coat glowing beautifully in the moonlight. The sleek female horse took her lead from Black Cloud. Steven had insisted on riding the stallion, claiming the horse had been restless tonight and needed the exercise. They rode into the back pasture on Steven’s land, making sure to keep to the cover of darkness. Glory wore her midnight-black cape, her head covered with the hood.

She wasn’t an expert horsewoman, so Steven had chosen the most gentle of horses. The lady-broke mare had intelligence, knowing with just a slight move or tug on the reins what Glory wanted of her, making her night ride more pleasurable.

The ride was exactly what she needed. Doubts washed away and her head cleared of all pensive thoughts as they rode at a gallop, giving the horses a much-needed workout. Exhilarated from the refreshing
air, the agile horse and the man beside her, Glory didn’t want the ride to end.

When they returned to the ranch, Steven unsaddled Black Cloud first. The horse snickered and pranced, sidestepping and pulling at the lead rein Steven held in his hand. Black Cloud snorted and Steven tried to soothe him. “Whoa, there, boy. Calm down.”

“What’s wrong with him?” Glory asked.

Steven opened the corral gate with a quick shove and pulled on the horse’s rein, until the reluctant stallion finally entered the corral. “He’s not cooperating. Seems he needs a lady tonight.” Steven took off the bridle, then stroked the horse’s snout, whispering to him.

Nutmeg pranced over to the corral gate and whinnied, showing interest in the stallion.

“They’ve been dancing around each other all night. Better dismount, Glory.”

Steven closed the corral gate and walked over to help her down, reaching for her waist. He smiled when her feet hit the ground. “Looks like Nutmeg is going to be bunking in Black Cloud’s corral tonight. And with any luck, I’ll have another foal before long.”

Glory smiled back, feeling more alive and free than she’d had in weeks. “Is that all it takes?” she breathed out.

Steven’s smile widened. With a finger he shoved his hat a bit higher on his forehead. “Well now, it’s a mite more complicated than that.” He stared into her eyes for a moment piercing her with a beckoning look, one filled with many possibilities.

A minute later, Steven freed Nutmeg of her saddle and bridle and led her into Black Cloud’s pen. Closing
the gate, Steven leaned against the fence, peering at his two new acquisitions.

Glory sidled up beside him. She wasn’t ready to say good night or go back into the confines of the house, the moonlit ride had sparked all of her senses. She stretched her arms along the corral fence, bracketing her boots up on the lowest rail, lifting her a good ten inches from the ground. From that point, she gazed at the two horses, seeing them as a part of Steven’s future.

Steven noted her position and came to stand behind her, his body pressed close, with his hands wrapped loosely around her waist, bracing her from falling.

“He’s a bit of a devil, tonight.”

“I can see that,” Glory said, keeping her gaze trained on the horses teasing and tempting each other. They played a game of chasing, confronting, then chasing again, all around the corral pen, their snorts of lust and desire not to be missed.

“It’s been said all true thoroughbreds can be traced back to three horses. Their line is that pure. They were brought to Europe almost two hundred years ago. They don’t come any faster or finer.” Steven spoke with pride, sharing his knowledge. “The quarter horses are fastest in the quarter mile, that’s how they came by their name.”

Glory continued to stare at Black Cloud. He skirted the perimeter of the corral, pursuing his female. The mare led him on a merry chase.

“He’s got only one thing on his mind,” Steven offered in a slow lazy drawl.

Glory dug her teeth into her bottom lip. Steven’s warm breath in her ear caused a commotion to her insides.

“Stallions get a bit crazed around a female. They’re meant to breed, and Black Cloud’s been restless all day. What he wants is right in front of him. He has only to take it.”

Steven tightened his arm about her waist.

“What about her, does she get…” Glory took a swallow, embarrassed at what she was about to ask. “Does she want the same thing?”

“See how she’s prancing around him? She’s spreading her scent and Black Cloud…can’t stay away.”

Steven’s voice, low and husky in her ear, caused goose pimples to rise along her arm. She shuddered, a slight little tremble that rocked her whole body.

“Are you cold?” Steven asked, the granite wall of his chest bracing her from the back. He wrapped her cape tighter around her, but it was the heat of his powerful arms holding her, that made her, hot…and tingly.

Glory didn’t grant him a reply. She couldn’t speak. Not now. She watched Black Cloud circle his mate, snorting, his sleek body primed and ready. The mare watched him intently, rooted to the spot. Glory couldn’t move, either.

She felt her defenses crumble, being in Steven’s arms, allowing him to hold her, together, watching this mating ritual. She knew she should turn and leave but her gaze fixed on the horses, mesmerized, and her heart pumped double time.

“You know what they’re going to do now, Glory?” Steven asked softly.

“Yes,” she admitted. She knew about mating, but her own experiences hadn’t been pleasurable. They had only caused her anguish and sorrow. She swallowed
down, feeling Steven’s solid body up against her, his hot breath inflaming her senses.

Steven’s lips caressed her temple. “Do you want to go inside?”

“No,” she answered with honesty. She didn’t want to be anywhere but here, in Steven’s arms.

Steven nuzzled her neck, but Glory only felt his hot hard manhood pressing against her from behind.

“Now,” he said devilishly, “Black Cloud gets what he’s waited so long for.” Steven inched his fingers up, leaving her waist to probe the sensitive skin under her breasts. She’d given him free access to her throat and he planted tiny kisses there, moistening her neck with his tongue. Shivers of delight spiraled up her spine and she ached for him to touch more of her.

“So damn sweet,” he whispered, kissing her chin, the path of her jawline, her temple.

Glory heard the mare whinny, and she glanced over. Black Cloud had mounted his mate, his ebony coat gleaming like black onyx. The mare struggled, but the male continued his pursuit until finally they had joined.

“Is he hurting her?” she asked, voicing her concern in a raspy whisper.

“No, sweetheart. It’s natural, the way God intended.”

“It doesn’t look natural.” And Glory knew the falsity of her words. It was the Lord’s way. Procreation. Yet Glory had to turn away, unable to watch any longer, unable to see the mare dominated by the stallion.

Memories flooded in, of Boone, and the way he’d taken her roughly, with no regard to her feelings, her own wants and desires. There had been nothing natural
in their joining, nothing pleasurable. Glory had thought to be a dutiful wife she must endure the act of lovemaking without complaint. She’d never known a moment of delight or joy, yet she’d never thought it a woman’s right.

“Glory,” Steven said, the anger in his voice tempered with restraint. “Did Boone hurt you?”

Glory squeezed her eyes closed. She couldn’t discuss this with Steven. She couldn’t bring herself to answer his probing question. What good would it do to bring to light her failures and disappointments? She couldn’t change anything. It would be better to put it out of her mind. Much, much better.