The Scoundrel's Bride (28 page)

“Zach Burkett, watch your tongue,” she said softly, her protest token at best.

Zach suddenly grinned and scooped his bride back into his arms, laughing at her halfhearted objection. Morality was his. His to make cry or to pester with salty language. His to use to further his revenge. His to bed as long and as often as he wanted.

Starting now.

“I’ll be too busy using it to watch it, Mrs. Burkett.” He nudged open the door to their cabin with his boot. Carrying Morality inside, he lowered her slowly to her feet, relishing the friction of her body against his. “Using it for your pleasure in ways you’ve never dreamed.”

Morality backed away from him, a stunned expression on her face that Zach credited to his claim. She surprised him by saying, “You called me Mrs. Burkett.”

“Yes.”

“It sounds nice.”

“I’m glad you think so, angel. Now it’s time for me to show you how being Mrs. Burkett can make you
feel
nice. More than nice, a lot more.” Reaching out, he grasped her waist with both hands and pulled her to him.

Need, hot and fierce, swelled within him. He stared down into her face, and their gazes locked and held. When her tongue slid out to wet her lips, he clenched his teeth to keep from following it with his own. He’d best take it slow—none of the wild, heated, reckless sex his body was demanding.

He’d heard that making love to a virgin was best approached like breaking a prized filly. Slow and easy, with soft words and a gentle touch.

It was liable to kill him.

Of course, virginity need only be dealt with once. After that, he could see to introducing her to the more adventurous aspects of love. He’d best not shock her too much at first. Hell, even soft and gentle might scare Morality. Who knows what nonsense her crazy uncle might have taught her. His voice was husky as he asked, “Are you clear on this, angel? Do you know how it happens between a man and a woman?”

“I guess so.” She cocked her head, eyes narrowing. “After all, we’ve done it before, right?”

Damn. He’d forgotten all about that particular lie. Guess he’d been wrong. Sometimes virginity had to be handled twice after all. “You’ll remember what happens here tonight, angel. I can promise you that.”

She pulled away from him, and he let her go, telling himself,
Patience, Burkett, patience
.

Morality wandered around the cabin, looking anywhere but at Zach. A spinning wheel stood in one corner of the room. She paused beside it and sent the wheel into a slow revolution. A napkin-covered basket sat on a table near the hearth, and she crossed to it, lifting the cloth to peek inside. “It looks like Mrs. Payne left us some supper. Are you hungry, Zach?”

“Yes.”

“Shall we eat, then?”

“Later. Come here, Morality.”

“Wh-wh-why?”

“I’m going to make love to you.”

“Before supper?”

“And after.”

“Oh, my.” Morality trembled. Her lungs forced her breath like a bellows. The air inside the cabin seemed heated, thick, and heavy with a scent she’d come to identify with Zach, with the man who was now her husband.

“Morality, come here.” His blue eyes steamed and snapped with fire, speaking to her without words. Sparking a deep throb of excitement within her.

The marriage bed. A union blessed by God. She no longer had to feel guilty about the flames Zach Burkett kindled inside her. Morality took a tentative step toward her husband.

“You look beautiful, angel. I never had the chance to tell you.” He held out his hand.

“I love the dress.”

“I knew the green would suit you.”

She put her hand in his. “I’ve dreamed of wearing something besides dark colors.”

Zach led her into the cabin’s second room. Morality’s gaze snagged on the bed where a brightly patterned quilt lay turned back, revealing sheets and a bouquet of paper flowers resting against a plump feather pillow.

In a raspy voice, Zach said, “Rainbows, angel. I’ll dress you in rainbows of color. That’s what the well-dressed heavenly bodies are wearing these days.” His gaze burned over her like hot cane syrup. “And yours is the most heavenly body I’ve ever seen.”

Embarrassed, Morality ducked her chin. “I suppose you’ve seen many?”

“Don’t tell me you’re jealous.” Now she heard the humor in his voice. “I told you I’m bad, but it’s all been practice up until now. And you know what they say about practice makes perfect.” He advanced on her, and Morality instinctively backed away until she felt the unmistakable press of a mattress against the back of her knees.

Panic constricted her throat. She twisted around and grabbed the flowers from the pillow. “What are these? I’ve never seen anything like them.”

“Paper roses. Red for passion. I learned how to make them when I was a boy.” Zach’s voice was a raspy ribbon that circled around her, snaring her. “Every bride should have flowers. You deserve a gardenful.” Gently, he pushed her down onto the bed. Then, kneeling on one knee, he reached for her soft leather shoes.

As his nimble fingers made quick work of her buttons, Morality searched for something to fill the steamy silence. “Did your mother teach you? I bet she did. Your mother sounds like the most wonderful person. Tell me about her, Zach. I’m sure you’ve all sorts of stories.”

He slipped off one shoe and then the other. “Yes, I do.” His hands skimmed beneath her skirts, and tugged on her garters, then rolled her stockings down her legs. “But, angel, I don’t normally talk about my mama when I’m making love.”

“You’re just taking off my shoes.”

He held her gaze as his fingers played along the bare skin at the back of her knees. Morality shivered, and his stare grew heavy-lidded. “I’m touching you. I’m running my fingers across your rose-petal skin. When I make love, angel, I do it with all of me.” Suddenly, he was leaning over her, his fingers working the buttons of her bodice. “My hands.” Deliberately, he reached inside her dress and cupped her breast.

Morality closed her eyes.

“My mouth.” He pressed a wet kiss to the base of her neck. “My eyes.”

He pushed the silk from her skin, and then he froze. “Good Lord, woman, what are you wearing?”

Morality’s eyes flew open. She saw the shock on his face and a nervous giggle escaped her throat. “It’s a gift from Mrs. Payne. I didn’t have a corset of my own because I wasn’t wearing one when Louise sent me after you. On the frontier women tend to be more lax about wearing stays, although I always wear one to Reverend Uncle’s revival meetings, of course.”

“Hush, Morality, you’re babbling.” With swift, urgent motions he stripped away her dress and laid her back on the bed. Morality crossed her legs but he stayed her hands from covering her breasts. She trembled as his gaze roamed over her almost bare shoulders, lingered on the filmy silk chemise visible above her stays, then trailed downward. With more reverence than she’d ever heard from him before, Zach said, “God bless Mrs. Payne.”

He unhooked her corset, then slipped his hands beneath it, caressing and stroking. Morality’s mouth was dry, and she tried to swallow as his touch stirred a wash of delicious sensations.

“Ah, angel, you’re velvet.” He lowered his head and nuzzled the swell of her breasts above the chemise. “And spun sugar.” He moved lower still and deliberately licked her nipple through the black silk. “And sin.”

He took her in his mouth and sucked, and Morality felt a pull deep inside the most private part of her. “No,” she breathed.

He paused and lifted his head. His eyes glittered like sunlight on water.

Morality desperately wanted him to understand. Or maybe she needed convincing herself. She reached for his hand and clutched it tight. “It’s not sin, not anymore!”

He nodded solemnly. “It’s heaven, angel. Pure heaven.” Then, he stripped her naked.

Emotion warred within her. She was embarrassed, vulnerable. She wanted to roll over, curl into a ball, and hide. She was filled with heat, a thrum of blood, an ache that made her want to arch toward her husband, to bring her to him. To lie beneath him.

Zach’s gaze held her captive as he stood and made quick work of yanking off his clothes. Morality’s breath caught at the sight of his fully aroused body. She’d seen him before, of course, that morning at his cabin. But this evening, in the falling light of dusk, she sensed a difference about him—an aura of purpose, determination. Anticipation.

Morality suddenly understood the meaning of the term erotic.

She felt a wash of wetness between her legs, and she cringed in mortification. What would he think of her! She briefly closed her eyes, praying he wouldn’t notice.

“Look at me, angel. I want you with me. I want to stare into your eyes when I come to you.”

Morality did as he asked, biting her lip in fear as he joined her on the bed.

“Ah, honey, don’t be scared. Just relax and trust me. Kiss me.” He fit his mouth to hers.

She remembered his kiss, the suction, the way he nibbled at her lips, the probe of his tongue. Her body remembered the scrape of his chest hair against her breasts. The scent of him. The heat of his skin on hers. The familiarity soothed her, even as he stroked the tension within her to new heights.

Again, she felt the pulse of moisture, and as if he sensed it, preying upon her embarrassment, he said, “Open for me, angel.” And as he touched her woman’s flesh, Morality moaned.

The sound ripped through Zach like heat lightning, threatening his thinly held control. Need was a rushing, roaring force that pulsed in his groin.
Patience, patience
, he told himself, the battle more difficult than any he’d fought before.

He fondled her swollen folds, taking satisfaction from the dampness he’d discovered. Virgin she may be, but beneath her angelic layers lay a passionate woman. Morality gasped when he found the center of her desire and stroked it in gentle, rhythmic circles. He kissed her ears, her neck, her face, her lips. He fused his mouth to hers and filled her with his tongue, fulfilling his promise.

Zach coated a finger in her dew, then eased it into her passage. She gave a cry low in her throat, and her eyes flew open, passion-glazed yet anxious. “Trust me, angel,” he whispered, and he worked her inch by inch, around and around, until he felt her arch her back as the tremors began.

He swallowed her cry of release with his kiss and knew his patience had run dry. While her body continued to ripple with pleasure, he positioned himself between her legs and entered her slowly until the barrier stopped him. Experimentally, he pressed forward. Damn, he’d been afraid of this. He pushed harder. Morality’s eyes grew round as a dove’s. “Zach, that hurts!”

“I know, angel. I’m sorry.” He kissed her, and then, with a single hard thrust, Zach took his wife’s virginity.

“I think you should stop now.” Morality’s voice was filled with panic. “Something’s wrong.”

Zach gritted his teeth. His breath came in pants. God, if he lived through this, he deserved a medal. “Morality, nothing’s wrong. It’s always like this.”

“It hurts. I don’t remember it hurting before.” She wiggled beneath him, trying to push him away.

That little twist was all it took to drive him over the edge. No longer able to resist the demands of his body, Zach pumped once, then twice, and swore beneath his breath as he poured himself inside her.

He groaned as he collapsed to his side, rolling her with him, unwilling to separate from her just yet. Morality lay with her head on his chest, and he knew she could hear the pounding of his heart. He could tell she wasn’t happy by the stiffness of her limbs.

All that work, all that damn patience, and he had to go and ruin it at the end.

Morality spoke up, her voice small but full of accusation. “You
didn’t
do this that night at your cabin, did you?”

Damn. He’d been afraid of this. Always adept at thinking on his feet, or in this case, on his hip, he said, “It hurt you the other night too, Morality. Probably you don’t remember because you won’t let yourself. I think you felt too guilty. Anyway, you might not know this—considering your raising and all—but men and women are made to require regular loving. If you don’t have it often enough, then next time you do, it tends to be uncomfortable. That’s why, now that we’re married, we’ll be sure to make love every night.” He smiled his most practiced sincere smile and added, “I want to protect you from pain, angel.”

Her tone was low, but decided. “I don’t believe you.”

She shifted away from him, and her magnificent breasts jiggled their way to his attention. Surprisingly—he never remembered being quite this quick on the draw before—he felt himself stir. He offered his wife a lazy grin. “I’m telling you the truth, honey. C’mere, let me prove it to you.”

She stared at him, accusing, but still a little intrigued. Zach waited, willing her to move, speaking only with the look in his eyes. He must have convinced her, because ever so slowly, she leaned toward him, lifting her mouth for a kiss.

Sometime later, Morality said in a breathless voice, “Oh, my goodness, Zach. You’ve definitely made a believer out of me.”

THE STREETS of Cottonwood Creek were relatively quiet for mid-afternoon. Reverend Harrison looked all around, making sure he wasn’t being observed as he ducked into the Marston carriage house. Shadows advanced with the closing of the door, and he stared around the structure trying to make out another figure in the gloom. “Are you here?”

“Yes,” came the disembodied voice.

Excitement surged inside of Harrison. He was on the verge of the biggest take of his life and he felt almost giddy. “Is it safe to talk?”

“Do you have the diary?”

“Do you have the papers?” He heard the creak of buggy springs and realized his quarry was sitting in one of the carriages. He stepped toward it. “My note said I’d need to see the ownership papers first. I meant it. You’ll not get the book until I see my name on the documents.”

“On the barrel beside the door. A file.”

Harrison’s mouth split into a wide grin. He found the file and flipped it open. Rifling the papers inside, he struggled to make out the words in the murky light. Who’d have ever thought the little bitch’s disappearance would net him this type of reward? A riverboat. A damn riverboat!