Charlene Sands (3 page)

His eyes searched hers for one instant before his lips came down on her softly, brushing his mouth over hers with exquisite tenderness. Nothing in her life had ever felt more right, more perfect. The taste of Blue Montgomery left her breathless, in a thrilling sort of way. Jenna let out a soft moan, which seemed to please him. He took hold of her hand and wrapped it around his neck, coaching her and leaving no room for doubt what he wanted—her complete participation.

Jenna kissed him back with everything she felt inside. Sinful, wicked sensations edged into her thoughts as Blue took what she offered greedily, making her fully aware without question that he was a man with needs. He dragged her closer and
kissed her again and again until Jenna’s lips were bruised and her body raged.

And just like that, he backed off, breaking the seal of their lips, shaking his head. “That was…too good,” he said with regret in his voice.

Trembling inside, Jenna prayed it didn’t show. She’d never felt so wonderful in her life…or so scared. Yes, it was good, she admitted silently, wondering why he’d stopped kissing her. “Did you,” she began, biting her swollen lip, “did you remember anything?”

Oh, yeah, he thought. He remembered something. He wasn’t a man who knew how to handle sweet innocent women. He knew it had been a long time since he’d held one in his arms and wanted so badly, the way he wanted Jenna. But damn it all, he didn’t
remember
her. More than anything, he’d wished he had. And if he hadn’t been daydreaming just then before Jenna knocked, about what it would be like to have her in his arms, loving him, right there on that bed, he would never have taken her the way he had.

Like he had a right to.

He smiled at her, a deep grin meant to soothe her feathers, should they be ruffled. “I think I’ll try your way, Jenna.” He brought the letters clenched in his fist up for her view. “I’ll read them.”

With that, he closed the door, shutting Jenna out.

Jenna balanced the plow, steadying the handles with both hands as the Percheron made a slow yet efficient trek through the wheat field. “That’s it, Mac,” she said to the old but reliable draft horse. She had half an acre to plow today and was only an hour into her task when Blue strode up, his face grim.

“What are you doing?” he asked, none too gently.

Jenna’s heart sped up at the sight of him. Every time they had occasion to talk, to be near, her reaction was always the same, a mixed-up sort of feeling that made mush to her insides. Ever since that kiss. She had trouble forgetting it and spent many a night recalling the sensations over and over in her mind.

That had been exactly five days ago, and still the memory was as vivid and clear as the Oklahoma sky on a cloudless spring day. “I’m plowing the field, Blue,” she said, breathless, both from the chore and the man pointing his sharp nose at her.

“That ain’t woman’s work,” he said, then added, “Where’s the men?”

Using her sleeve, Jenna took a moment to wipe sweat from her brow. Under regular conditions, no, it wasn’t woman’s work, but this wasn’t the first time she’d taken on the chore. With an entire wheat field to plow this spring, what choice did she have? The fields wouldn’t plow themselves and
she had minimal help. “Ben’s gone until tomorrow evening. He took Rosalinda to Goose Creek. It’s a day’s ride from here. The others are working the top end of the field.”

“What’s so special in Goose Creek?”

Joy filled her heart. Ben’s purchase today would make life a bit easier around here come planting time. And it symbolized something even more important.

Progress. She’d scraped together enough money from selling off surplus eggs and butter in Goodwill to finally purchase something to help the farm prosper. “He’s buying us a seeder, Blue. You know what that means, no more broadcasting the seeds. We’ll get the planting done faster and more efficiently.”

“A seeder?” He cast her a dubious look. He must think her odd, a woman getting excited about the purchase of farm equipment. She expected most women only got their feathers up if their man bought them a shiny new bauble or two.

He took hold of her hands then, removing her overly large gloves and lifted up her palms to see calluses developing. She was sure it wasn’t a pretty sight. He twisted his lips. “Move aside, Jenna. And show me what to do with this thing.”

“No, Blue. It’s too soon for you.” Jenna understood a man’s pride, but he was still recovering from his injuries. And it wasn’t as if he hadn’t been helping. He’d insisted on chopping firewood, raking
out the barn and mending fences around the farm.

“I’m through standing by, watching everybody else around here get to their chores.” He fit his hands into the gloves.

“You’ve been helping,” she offered in his defense. She couldn’t bear for him to think of himself as useless. He’d done everything his healing body would allow up until this point. It was all anybody could ask.

He snorted. “Slopping the hogs ain’t real work, Jenna. Now move aside.” His big body nudged her out of the way gently and he took hold of the handles. He shot her a quick look, his eyes beckoning.

“Just keep the furrows straight as you can. Mac knows what to do. And plow deep enough to make for a good root bed.”

He nodded then sent his gaze over the unplowed land. “Don’t wait supper for me.”

Jenna put a hand to his arm. “You come in before sundown, Blue. Nobody’s ever plowed a whole field in one day.” She said this with amusement and his quick easy smile nearly knocked her off her feet.

Jenna walked away, stepping carefully over the land already tilled. She turned for a moment, watching Blue struggle with the plow until he mastered it. He’d rolled up his sleeves and she noted thick muscles straining as he held the plow firmly.
She’d never tire of looking at him, her Blue, not for the next fifty years or so.

The memories will come back to him, she thought willfully. He was a farmer from Kansas. Surely, he would remember how to farm the land. But he’d been wealthy at one time and probably hadn’t cultivated the soil himself. Then the war came and he fought for the South, only to come home to find his farm destroyed and his home in ashes. Shortly after, he had lost his parents, but he’d stayed on, trying to rebuild, until the day he decided to come to Twin Oaks to marry her. And although Blue still had no memory, he was here at Twin Oaks, recuperating and working the land, just as they both had planned.

Jenna whistled a gay tune all the way back to the house, glancing at the perfect sky, imagining tall golden fields of newly-grown wheat…with Blue Montgomery standing proudly by her side.

He sank down onto the mattress, his body a mass of solid aches. Farming wasn’t woman’s work and he wasn’t at all sure it was man’s work, either. The tedious monotony of plowing the land wasn’t mind-enriching labor. He scratched his head, wondering how a man who was supposed to be a farmer could find disdain in creating a healthy crop with nearly his bare hands. He should be rejoicing, shouldn’t he, at the labor he was born and bred to do?

He lifted his palms up and noted hard calluses where there had been none before. “Blue Montgomery or whoever you are,” he said aloud, “you don’t know a thing about farming.”

He wasn’t ready for bed. Fact is, every night he’d started reading one of the letters he’d sent to Jenna, not quite making it halfway through the entire contents. He found it hard reading about himself and what he’d been through, wondering if these events had really occurred
to him.

Stretching out on the bed, he gave a little groan. Hell, he was hurting. His body rebelled against stiff joints, sun-drenched skin and torn-up muscles that cried for relief. With a little twist, he turned up the kerosene lamp on his bedstand and picked up another letter. He’d promised Jenna to read them all, and he would. This time he’d read it to the end. The next letter in the batch began:

He folded the letter, carefully replacing it back into its place in the stack and tying up the ribbon. Jenna treasured these letters; but so far, nothing had sparked even the slightest memory in him. He felt as though he was barging in on another’s thoughts. Yet, he was learning something about himself and more importantly, about Jenna.

Something had happened between Jenna and her brother. There was reference to it in the letter, but Jenna didn’t have cause to discuss it with him. The light had gone out of Jenna’s eyes when last they discussed Bobby Joe Duncan and he knew then he wouldn’t ask again. When Jenna was ready to trust him with the truth, if that day ever came, then he’d listen.

It didn’t set well that her brother had hurt Jenna. Tender feelings surged forth; a protectiveness that was fierce in nature seeped into his senses. He didn’t know what to do with these feelings, but he damn well knew if Bobby Joe Duncan showed his face here, there’d be hell to pay.

Jenna had saved his life. He’d not allow anyone to hurt her again. The feelings overwhelmed him and he stood abruptly and paced the room. Noises caught his attention and he glanced out the window. Light from a slice of the moon put a dim glow onto the barnyard below. He thought he saw movement in the shadows. The barn door opened and from his viewpoint on the second floor, once again movement caught his eye.

He buttoned up his shirt and put his boots on with two quick effective tugs then headed downstairs. As he approached the barn door, he listened intently.

“That’s a good mama. You’ve got five little babes here, Button. And aren’t they cute!”

Jenna?

He popped his head inside, being drawn to the sound of her cooing voice, and was instantly struck by the sight of her. Wearing a robe of white cotton he’d only caught glimpses of before, with her long golden hair down about her shoulders and framing her face, Jenna turned to him with wide eyes. Two dimples popped out like twin diamonds on a face that positively beamed with joy. The robe split open, revealing a thin chemise underneath and everything male inside him went tight.

“Blue, look here,” she said softly, the lilt in her voice calling to him. “Button’s had her a litter. Aren’t they the sweetest things you’ve ever laid eyes on?”

He glanced down at the five scrawny wet kittens and nodded. But his mind was on Jenna and how
she
was just about the sweetest thing he’d ever laid eyes on.

Images of Jenna coming to lie with him in his bed, wearing that soft thin strip of cotton and nothing else, danced in his head. He couldn’t block the image, not when she was standing there, smiling up at him with such elation. Oh, how he wished he were Blue Montgomery. How he wanted to be. And why shouldn’t he believe it and take what Jenna offered? Why not accept the love she had to give and marry her? Why not just spend his days blissfully happy with a courageous, lovely woman who had shown him all that she was, all that she could give him, with just one passionate kiss?

“There’s a chill in the air,” he said and turned to close the barn door.

“Leave it open,” she said firmly, a hint of desperation in her tone.

“You’re cold, Jenna.”

“Please, Blue. Don’t close the door.” Her eyes met his searching, as if he should know something that she wouldn’t voice.

One last glance at the bodice of Jenna’s chemise told him, yes indeed there was a chill in the air. He inhaled sharply and forced his focus to the new litter as he strolled over. “They look like rats, all damp and bony like that.”

Jenna bent down to stroke Button, who was busy at the moment nursing the five newcomers. “They do not, Blue Montgomery. They are just darling. Don’t you listen to him, Button. He’s just being silly.”

He smiled and bent down next to Jenna. Stroking the new mama’s head, he amended his first impression. “Okay, so maybe they are a little bit cute.”

She laughed and the sound filled the barn like a melodious song. “Nothing like new babes to make a mama proud. Right, Button? One day, I’ll know the feeling.”

She froze then and he saw a deep red flush come to her face.

“You want children, Jenna?”

“I, uh… I do,” she admitted, but kept her attention
on the kittens. “I shouldn’t have said that.” She drew down on her lip.

“Why not? If it’s the truth.”

“Of course it’s the truth. It’s just that until your memory returns, it’s a bit awkward speaking of such things.”

He stood, then reached down to take Jenna’s hand, lifting her to her feet. They stood inches apart. He studied her eyes, noting confusion there. “And what if I never get my memory back, Jenna? What then?”

“I don’t…know.”

“We can’t go on thinking I’ll remember something. I don’t recall what we shared. Not one bit.” He softened his tone. “We have to face the fact that I might never remember you.”

Jenna shut her eyes, her pain nearly tangible. He sensed she was a woman who experienced each of her sentiments with strong emotion, this one causing her, arguably, the most injury. “I thought by now you might.”