Weathered Too Young (25 page)

“Thank you for puttin’ the children to bed for me, Lark,” Katherine said.

“It was a pleasure,” Lark told her—and it was the truth.

“Good night,” Katherine said.
Johnny nodded and headed to the back of the house.

“You keep that fire goin’ if it gets cold, Kate,” Slater said.
“I’ll see you all in the mornin’.”

He was gone then
,
taking the stairs two at a time.

Lark closed the door behind her as she entered her room.
She was tired—it was true.
Yet her mind was alive with thoughts, feelings—her heart still beating erratically
,
the result of Slater’s flirting.
She closed her eyes and placed a hand to her forehead as her tired mind whirled.

She knew her face was still fiery with blushing.
She wondered if her heart would even resume an even tempo.
She was thrilled by Slater’s attentions—devastated by the fact that he cared so deeply for Katherine.
Unexpectedly, even to herself, she burst into tears.
Yet this was not sobbing—merely the quiet tears of fear, fatigue
,
and even strange delight.

Lark knew she’d grown too comfortable—too pleased with the life she’d come to know at the Evans ranch.
She’d fallen too deeply in love with Slater.
Furthermore, she sensed the life that she had enjoyed was all too abruptly coming to an end—or
,
at very least, about to change
,
dramatically.

Oh, certainly she’d always known a man like Slater Evans would have had many women in his past.
Yet she’d somehow convinced herself that he was so single-minded to his work—to hi
s cattle and horses—that no woma
n would ever breach his attention.
Still,
a mature, beautiful woman, recently touched by tragedy and looking as alluring as anything on earth, had now returned from Slater’s past—returned to be part of his future.
Yes
,
Slater had flirted with Lark
,
but it could well have been he meant only to entertain Katherine.

Lark felt weary and discouraged.
She knew better than to ponder such matters when she was in such a state of exhaustion.
Her arms felt heavy as she reached around to work the buttons of her shirtwaist collar.

“Oh!” she gasped, suddenly remembering she’d left the small poetry book she’d purchased in the parlor.
She knew reading a few pages before going to sleep would ease her mind into a more restful slumber.

Quietly, she opened the door and peered into the darkness.
Across the way she could see the embers of the dying fire yet smoldered
,
for an inviting orange glow beckoned her.
She paused, unable to remember if she’d
heard Slater’s boots drop over
head.
Every night she waited—waited to hear him settle
,
hear his boots thud to the floor.
It was how she knew he was in bed—how she found her own peace in knowing he slept just above her.
Had she heard them a moment ago?
She thought she had.

Again she peered across the entry toward the parlor.
She unlaced her boots and removed them
,
not wanting to disturb Katherine or the children.

Slipping out of her room, she made her way to the parlor.
Lark marveled at how silent the house was
,
how the absence of voices and light caused the room to seem lonesome—a room that had been filled with life such a short time before.
The book of favorite poems was resting on the edge of a small table
,
just where she’d left it.

As she reached for it
,
however, Slater’s voice from behind startled her.
“What’re you doin’?” he asked.

Breathless with residual distress, for she had nearly jumped out of her stockings when he’d spoken, she placed a hand to her bosom to settle her madly beating heart.
“You frightened me near out of my skin, Slater Evans!” she scolded in a whisper.

“Sorry,” he said, striding toward her.
He wore only his long underwear
,
the front of which were unbuttoned and gaping open to his waist.
“But what’re you doin’?”

“Retrieving my book,” she told him.
“What’re you doing?”

“My shoulder’s botherin’ me,” he said, reaching across his chest to massage the back of his left shoulder.

Lark remembered the scar she’d seen there.
It seemed the cooler the weather, the more she caught moments of Slater rubbing his shoulder or rotating his arm as if working out some stiffness.
“I came down to fetch the liniment.”

“It’s in the kitchen,” she whispered, starting to move past him.
“I’ll get it
for you.”

Lark gasped as Slater took hold of her arm, growling, “No.”

“I-I don’t mind,” she breathed.

She watched as his dark eyes narrowed—as a deep frowning scowl furrowed his handsome brow.

“I need to quit dancin’ around this, baby,” he said.
His voice was deep—somehow rich and alluring like molasses confection.

“Quit d-dancing around what?” Lark stammered.

“You,” he mumbled, taking hold of both her arms and maneuvering her body, pressing her back against the parlor wall.
Slater leaned toward her
,
and panic mingled with elation bathed her in a euphoric sort of anticipation.

Frightened by her own rising desires, Lark put out one hand up and pressed firmly against Slater’s chest in an effort to keep from melting to him.
“Me?” she choked in a whisper.

“I need to quit dancin’ around this,” he mumbled.
She felt him cover her hand pressing against his chest with his own, squeezing it a moment before releasing it.
Lark held her breath as he took her face between his powerful hands and moved closer to her.
Instinctively, her other
hand
went to his chest as well
,
and she gently pushed at him.

“You’re shakin’ like a leaf,” he said, grinning at her—though the narrowing of his eyes told her his intentions were far beyond m
ere
mischief
.

“I-I’m cold,” she whispered, though she was far from it.

“I’m not,” he told her.
“Go on
. S
lip your arms around me…and
I’ll show you how warm I am.”

Lark could hardly draw breath!
Every inch of her flesh was alive with goose bumps
;
her stomach felt as if a swarm of birds had just taken flight inside her.

“Let’s quit dancin’ around it…just do it…and get it over with,” he said.
“Then I’m sure we’ll both settle down…and get right back in the saddle of everyday livin’.”

“D-do what?” Lark squeaked.
She was breathless—weak—entirely at his mercy.

Slater’s grin broadened to a smile.
“Kiss,” he breathed.

“Oh n-no,” Lark whispered, shaking her head.
She pushed at his chest more firmly, terrified of what might happen to her heart if she
were to succumb
to him.

“Oh yes,
” he breathed.
He brushed the t
i
p of her nose with his own
,
lightly kissing
her upper lip.
“Let’s just quit dancin’ around it
. L
et’s just get it over with
…
quit distractin’ each other with wantin’ it so bad
ly
.”

“Maybe I don’t,” she lied.

“Maybe you’re a liar,” he mumbled against her mouth.
“Now slip your arms around me…and let me warm you up a minute.
I promise you ain’t never been warmer.”

“Slater
—
”
she began to argue.

“Shhh,” he whispered.
“I gotta get this outta me, baby…else you’re gonna drive me to…”
He kissed her then—directly on the mouth.
His lips were warm and soft
,
and he buried his hands in her hair.
“Quit dancin’ around it, Lark,” he whispered against her lips. “It’s one kiss
. T
ake hold and run.”

She gasped as his mouth found hers once more—lips parted—warm and moist.
Why would he kiss her?
she wondered for a brief moment.
The question was fleeting, however—for what did it matter why?
Slater was kissing her!
All her resistance was beaten
,
and she allowed her arms
and
hands to slid
e
over his chest, to slip beneath the fabric of his gaping underwear and around to his back.
Oh, he was warm!
Warmer than anything she’d ever experienced!
His skin was smooth and heated
;
she could feel the strength of the muscles in his back.

Her heart soared as his manner of kissing her intensified
.
Over and over
his mouth commanded hers
,
coaxing and leading her to return
his affectionate endeavors.
He paused, pulling her arms from around him and repositioning them around his.
Then he drew her against him, his arms banding about her, pulling her flush with his body as he continued to draw pleasure from her mouth—as she continued to draw pleasure from his.

Even in her dreams
,
Lark had never imagined such desire—such warmth and fascination!
His powerful hands tightened at her waist—traveled over her back and shoulders—clutched her hair in
his
strong fists—and all th
e while he kissed her
,
enrapturing
her with ravenous wanting.
His mouth left hers for a moment
,
and she sensed his breath was labored as he trailed moist kisses over her neck and throat.

She heard him swear under his breath as he put a hand to the back of her head and drew her mouth to his once more.

Slater had thought one kiss would satisfy him—at least for a time.
He thought if he kissed Lark—if he quit dancing around his yearning for her and simply had her for a moment—then perhaps his blood would cool and he could return to the man he’d been before his brother had put her in his path.
Yet he’d been wrong—ignorantly wrong!
He wondered now if he’d ever be able to release her.
The sweet flavor of her mouth owned him—broke him like a beaten stallion—and he feared he might not be able to stop
,
to let her go without…

“Uncle Slater?
I’m scared.”

Lark gasped as Slater broke the seal of their kiss and looked down to Charlie.

“Charlie?” Slater panted.
“What’re you doin’ out of bed, puppy?”

Charlie brushed the tears from his cheeks with the backs of his hands
,
rubbed his eyes
,
and sniffled.
“I’m scared…and Johnny just told me to hush,” the child answered.

Lark wiped the moisture from her lips as Slater released her and hunkered down before the boy.
“Well, how about you and me sit up for a minute un
til you’re feelin’ better
?
Al
l
right?” Slater said.

Charlie nodded and smiled.

“And if
you
still like sleepin’ by yourself,” Slater said
,
looking up to Lark, “then
you
best get to your bed too.”

Lark couldn’t speak.
She wondered if she’d be able to walk, for her arms and legs felt as weak as a newborn calf’s.
Still, she managed to nod.
Picking up her book with one trembling hand, she made to move past Slater and Charlie.

But Slater reached out and caught hold of her arm.
“We don’t need to dance around that no more,” he whispered.
“It’s done…and we’re good, right?”

Lark nodded.

“Come on, Charlie,” Slater said, taking the boy’s hand.
“Let’s watch the fire burn down a bit more.”

Charlie followed Slater to the large chair near the hearth.
Slater wadded up a small quilt in his lap, and the boy curled up on it
,
just like a puppy.
Lark smiled as she heard Slater begin to hum a soothing melody.