Tumbleweed Letters (8 page)

He placed the soaps on the vanity, stood and pulled her toward him. “Let me show you.” With his gaze locked on hers, he placed his hands on her cheeks and slowly tilted her face toward his. He pressed light kisses on her eyes and across her cheekbones. Her lips parted. He brushed his lips across her lips, once, twice, before claiming them.

A moan escaped from her, and he was lost.

He stepped closer, so their thighs touched. Desire ran pell-mell through him. Her breathing hitched when he ran kisses across her jaw and down her neck. He hardened even more. That’s when he realized he was trembling with need and craving for this woman. He kissed her sweet mouth again, urging her to open for him. When she did, he slipped his tongue inside to get drunk in the taste of her. Good Lord, the woman was intoxicating.

Small hands wrapped firmly around his wrists, as if she needed to hang on, until his one hand slid down her back and cupped her buttocks. She moaned again, and he nearly dropped to his knees.

He broke the kiss and hoped his words wouldn’t scare her. “This is how it’s supposed to be between a husband and wife, Sophie Catherine. Gentle. Sweet. Each giving pleasure to the other.”

Green eyes, heavy with passion, stared at him. Slowly, she untied the strings to her nightdress and, to his amazement, she tugged it over her head. A vibrant blush rose from her chest to her cheeks. “How…how do you see me, Cam?” Her voice barely a whisper.

His gaze slowly traveled down her round firm breasts, nipples peaked in the cool air of the room.

Blood rushed from his brain to his loins. A man could feast on her breasts forever. Her waist was tiny and flared out to round hips.

Pale red hair curled at the juncture of her legs, legs that were shapely and long.

He was so hard by this point, he was in pain. “I see you as beautiful.”

Chapter Eleven

If only she could believe Cam. Did he see her as beautiful? Taking off her nightgown was an experience in total humiliation, yet she also felt exhilarated. Suddenly it occurred to her he was still fully dressed. Did she dare?

“Take your clothes off, Cam McBride. Your wife demands equal looking rights, so she does.”

He began to unbutton his shirt, a slow smile spreading across his face. She loved that smile of his. Something about it warmed her heart—and places south of that. Her hand fluttered to one of the new combs he’d bought her. What a sweet gesture. This man standing before her, his warm blue eyes taking their fill, had a generous heart, a good heart. His going to Madam Dora’s displeased her. What if he’d visited one of the soiled doves?

“How long were you at Madam Dora’s?”

He tugged his arms out of his shirt. “Long enough to tell her you wanted some cats to rid the house of mice.” He shot her another smile, a twinkle in his blue eyes. “And to ask where she buys her soap.”

Should she ask if he’d gone upstairs? Would he tell her if he had?

Cam hopped around on one foot as he tugged off first one boot and then the other. In one swift motion, he shucked off his pants and long johns. His member stood straight out, long, thick, ready. She swallowed at the enormity of it. Was she prepared? “Close your eyes and think of Ireland,” her mother had instructed. Did she know enough about Ireland to fill her mind while he took his pleasure?

His warm hands touched her cheeks again. Serious blue eyes searched hers. “Do you understand how this coming together works?”

“I…ah…you…ah…” She swallowed her fear and nodded. His member rubbed against her belly, creating strange yearnings. Her whole body trembled as he took her hand and led her to bed.

“I’ll do my best to lessen the initial pain, Sophie Catherine. I hope you know me well enough to realize I take no pleasure in hurting you.”

She’d only met him yesterday, yet she did trust him. She scooted across the bed and brought the covers to her chin—a chin that chattered so hard with cold and fear he had to hear it. Her gaze kept dropping to Cam’s swollen appendage, wondering how she was going to take it all in.
Saints preserve me, I’m going to be split in two. He’ll have to bury me in two graves.

After he slid under the quilts, he leaned over her. One calloused finger trailed down her cheek and across her trembling chin. “Relax.”

A kiss light as butterfly wings touched her temple. “Relax,” he whispered against her ear, and she shuddered.

He nuzzled her neck below her ear, and she sighed. “Relax, my beauty.”

Kisses gentle as an angel’s touch pressed against her eyelids and her fists uncurled. “Relax, sweetheart.”

Then he covered her lips with his, and his hand slid to her neck. While he did scandalous things to her lips and mouth, his thumb made slow circles on her throat.

He was taking his time, she’d give him that. Carefully and sweetly he tortured her with kisses and touches. Her body and mind gentled and enjoyed. Sighs and whispered words of praise filled the air while he slowly initiated her body to his touch.

“You’re going to be mine, Sophie Catherine. Mine.”

She wanted to tell him he sounded like Eli, but the languid state of her body made speaking impossible. By turns, he kissed, nipped, and licked her neck and shoulders. Her restless body writhed beneath the quilts, seeking something unknown.

When his mouth found her breast, she thought she’d died and gone to heaven. A gentle kiss followed by a swirl of his tongue brought her nipple to a peak. “Beautiful. You’re so beautiful, sweetheart.”

Although his trained mouth created new sensations, it was his praise and terms of endearment that enchanted her. Tommy’s groping had been rough and uncaring. Cam’s leisurely enjoyment of her body made her feel important, desired, cherished.

When he drew her nipple into his mouth and sucked on it, her response was so intense, so mind-numbing, her hands went to the back of his head, pressing him further into her breast. “Don’t stop. Sweet Mary and Joseph, don’t stop.”

He chuckled and continued his current method of sensual torture. His broad hands swept to her waist while she wrapped her feet around the calves of his legs, trying to anchor him to her.

“I’m going to rub my hard-on over you. Don’t be afraid. I’m not going to enter you yet, not until you have your release.” He raised himself on his elbow and held his member in his hand and rubbed it over her privates, settling on a spot that made her moan when he touched it.

“Re…release? Women can have a release, too?”

“Would it be fair if you didn’t? If I didn’t take the time to help you soar to the stars, would you want to do this again?” He began making slow circles around a certain spot with the end of his hard-on. “Look at me, sweetheart. Let me watch your beautiful eyes while I pleasure you.”

Cam’s voice was deep, intimate and languid, just as his effect on her. Although her eyes were focused on his, her mental focus was on that part of him touching her, torturing her, taking her higher and higher. Her belly coiled tighter and tighter. She was reaching for something, if she only knew her destination. Even so, the sensations he created, with his slow rubbing of a spot she never knew she had, held her captive.

“Cam.”

“Yes, sweetheart. Tell me what you want.” He never stopped rubbing over her spot, circling it, teasing it.

“I…I can’t say it out loud.” Of all times, with a naked man on top of her and her nipples puckered from his sucking, she was blushing.

“I’m your husband, Sophie Catherine. You can tell me anything.” Sweat beaded on his forehead. His breathing labored.

How could she tell him she was on the edge when she didn’t know what she was on the edge of? Her hips rose and fell as if they were searching for something, too. Then finally—suddenly—she slipped off the edge and soared. Spasms so strong they bore a cutting sensation. So beautiful they stole her breath. So potent her body craved more. A cry escaped her lips. Stars exploded in vibrant colors before her eyes.

It was then Cam entered her, filled her, stretched her. Something tore, but her focus was on the powerful, all-consuming spasms inside her most private space.
Sweet heavens, don’t let them end.

When she slowly floated back to earth like a feather on the wind, Cam’s face was contorted with focus as he continued moving. His eyes were closed, nostrils flared, jaw clenched. Sweat ran down his face. Her hands rose to his cheeks. “Look at me, Cam.”

Stormy blue eyes opened, hooded with passion and searing with possession as his thrusts increased in speed. “You feel so good, sweetheart. So tight. So…” His head reared back, the cords of his neck standing out as he roared her name. Her effect on him was obviously as powerful and sweet as his was on her. She gloried in that fact and tumbled all the way into love.

After he emptied himself into her, he collapsed against her neck, gasping for breath. With his arms around her, he rolled over and pressed her face to his shoulder. Strained breathing filled the room. His heartbeat was rapid under her palm. Hers pounded in her ears. Her throat was dry from breathing so hard. And she wondered if she’d ever felt so light, so relaxed, so close to anyone in her life. Possessiveness of this man rooted in her soul.

When her lungs finally recovered, she knew she’d never be the same again. Cam had claimed her, well and true. She was his wife in every way now. Her mother’s remarks made her smile against Cam’s chest. “You never gave me the chance to think of Ireland.”

He pulled back and studied her. “What?”

Her fingers trailed through the mat of dark hair on his chest. “Momma always said when a man demanded his husbandly rights, it was best to close one’s eyes and think of Ireland.”

Laughter rumbled from his chest, and she loved the sound of it. His fingertips tipped her chin upward, and he covered her lips with his. When he pulled back, he enveloped her in his arms and held her tight. “Sweetheart, thank God I found you.”

****

Cam brought the coffee cup to his lips to hide his smile. He didn’t think his wife’s blush had dimmed from the time she woke up naked in his arms. Every time she looked at him, her face reddened even more. Damn, if she wasn’t something when she was flustered.
He hardened; she’d certainly been
something
last night. They’d made love three times, and if he could he’d take her by the hand and lead her back to bed again.

She wore her hair down today, secured with the pretty combs he’d bought her. His fingers itched to twine themselves in her long, curly tresses. Her lips—made for kissing, in his opinion—were pursed in concentration as her fingers made quick work of their various jobs.

Sophie Catherine’s remark last night about thinking of Ireland during sex made him laugh, something he hadn’t done since before losing Amanda. This woman kneading bread dough while he ate the hearty breakfast she’d fixed was melting the ice in his soul. Watching her bustle about the kitchen was a tranquil pleasure he was loath to end. Yet chores beckoned.

An approaching buggy snagged his attention. Cam stepped to the window in the parlor. “We’ve got company, Sophie Catherine. Madam Dora.”

“What?” She stood in the doorway between the kitchen and parlor, wiping her hands on her apron. “She’s never up this early. Something must be wrong.”

Cam opened the door to greet their visitor. “Good morning, Miz Dora. Awfully early for you, isn’t it? Come in and get warm. You’ve got to be cold.”

“Oh, I am.” She rubbed her gloved hands together. “The sky looks heavy with snow to me, so I’ll make my visit short so I can get back to town. Is Sophie up?”

Sophie Catherine hurried to Dora. “Come in the kitchen where it’s warm. Would you care for some coffee?”

“Yes, bless you. I can barely feel my feet.” Once Dora settled at the table across from Cam and unwrapped the knitted scarf from her neck, she turned her gaze on him. “Could I please have a few moments of privacy with Sophie?”

Unease crept up his spine. Would Dora try to convince Sophie Catherine to come back to work for her? He needed her here. He glanced at his wife as she refilled his cup. “I suppose.”

A small hand clasped his shoulder and gave a gentle squeeze. “Whatever you have to say to me can be said in front of my husband.”

His hand rose to cover hers. A warmth rushed though him over her gesture and melted a chunk of his frozen heart. He turned an eye on her as she sat across from him.

Dora’s eyebrows shot up. The corners of her mouth quirked. “Very well. There’s a man in town looking for you.”

The color drained from his wife’s face. “For…for me?” Her eyes darted around as if she were looking for an escape. The pulse in her neck beat rapidly. “Is he a Pinkerton?”

“Yes. Or so he claims. Man by the name of Veers. Archie Veers.” Dora turned toward Cam. “Cold eyes. Mean, real mean. Roughed up Trixie last night.”

Cam covered Sophie Catherine’s hand with his. “Is that the man who hit you?” When she nodded, her green eyes full of fear, hot rage rolled through him like a powerful western wind. He regarded Madam Dora. “Thank you for coming all the way out here to warn us.”

“Well, he’s in the poky right now. Sheriff Manning arrested him after the beating he gave Trixie. I suspect he’ll release him later today, after Veers sleeps off his snootful of whiskey.”

Sophie Catherine stood, her fingers twisting her apron. “I’m going to Deadwood with you. I don’t want Veers harming Cam or Eli.” Her gaze swept around the kitchen she’d breathed life into, just as she’d breathed life into him. “Or doing something to this house. Cam’s memories are here.”

Cam slowly stood, willing his heart to stay in his chest. “Your place is here with us. I promised you no one would ever hurt you again, and I meant it.”

“No, ’twill be better for me to meet him in town than for him to come out here. We don’t know if he has others with him. I won’t have you or my boy in danger because of me.”

A sense of panic twisted Cam’s gut. He wrapped his hand around Sophie Catherine’s waist and pulled her to him. “You’re not leaving.”

His wife’s hand twisted into his shirt. “Cam, you don’t know what that man’s capable of.”